Page 54 of Accidentally Vacationed with an Incubus

Shadows pooled defensively around Devlin, but they dropped away the moment a familiar voice called out, “Just a moment!” The voice was much softer as it said, “It’s alright, dear. It’s just someone at the door. You just try and get some rest, and I’ll be back in a moment with your medication.”

Theclack-clackof a cane echoed from beyond the door, slow and deliberate, followed by the faint slide of a chain locking into place. The door cracked open, just enough for Mr. Cadmus’s glassy eye to peer out, his expression suspicious as he took in Devlin’s towering form.

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Cadmus,” Devlin said. “I don’t know if you remember me from the other evening?”

Mr. Cadmus narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Devlin for a long, drawn-out moment before exhaling sharply. “Oh, yes,” he muttered. “The incubus staying at the Myerses’ old house.” His fingers tightened on the door, hesitation flickering across his expression. “Listen, son,” he said, his voice gruff, “now’s not really a good time.”

“Of course,” Devlin said smoothly. “I just wanted to say thank you for your advice on the ghost. I don’t think I would have lasted this long without your help... and Jen’s."

Mr. Cadmus’s brow furrowed, confusion clouding his face. Devlin took a small step aside, and the moment Mr. Cadmus’s gaze landed on me, his glassy eyes widened.

For a heartbeat, I thought maybe—just maybe—things were going to be okay.

Then the door slammed shut.

I stumbled back, instinct kicking in, but Devlin’s hand caught mine, his grip firm, grounding me in place.

“Just wait,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

A long pause stretched between us, then the rattle of a chain sliding free sounded from the other side. The wood creaked, slow and hesitant, before the door swung open once more. Mr. Cadmus stood there, eyes wide, his face drained of color, as if he’d just seen a ghost.

I must have been mirroring his expression, because the man standing before me was nothing like the one I remembered. I mean, of course it was him, but the Mr. Cadmus I knew had been plump, full from the three apple pies his wife baked for him every week. He had always worn tweed, his meticulously sculpted mustache perfectly twisted, his jolly nature as much a part of him as the scent of cinnamon and apples that clung to his clothes.

The man before me was half the weight he once was, his soiled, threadbare clothing hanging off him like they belonged to someone else entirely.

The mustache was long gone, replaced by a wild, unkempt beard. His eyes, once sharp and full of mirth, now sat deep in wrinkled sockets, clouded with cataracts—and yet, there was just enough sight left in them to recognize me.

His voice, however, was the same. “Jennifer?” he breathed, his tone laced with disbelief and something dangerously close to hope. “Jennifer Myers.” A slow, shaky smile crept onto his face as he let out a breathless chuckle. “As I live and breathe!”

Chapter 16. Devlin

Mr. Cadmus looked as though he’d seen a ghost. The color drained from his face, and his knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the handle of his cane. I reminded myself that beneath the guise of an ailing old man lurked a basilisk, the one watching from the trees last night.

And one who might have left those police files to torment Jen.

A flicker of unease knotted in my gut, and I let the shadows creep toward me, feeling suddenly foolish for allowing Jen to invite herself along tonight. Then again, she was his neighbor—she could have bumped into him at any time. At least this way, I was here to witness their first encounter.

“Jennifer? Jennifer Myers. As I live and breathe!” Mr. Cadmus’s voice cracked with disbelief before splitting into a grin, revealing the jagged gaps between his yellowed teeth. He spread his arms wide, taking a wobbly step forward. “Come here, child! Gods, I never thought we’d see you again!”

Jen hesitated for half a heartbeat before stepping around me and moving into his open arms. His frail limbs trembled as he pulled her into a weak embrace, spindly fingers splaying against her back in a series of gentle, almost tentative, pats.

I let the shadows retreat. Whatever my suspicions, Mr. Cadmus didn’t strike me as the type to rally a mob against Jen—not with the way his voice cracked with emotion, his frail form trembling as he held her. If not for the fact that breaking rule number one twice in a single day was a terrible idea, I would have undampened my senses to get a true read on his reaction.

“Come in, come in, child,” Mr. Cadmus said, his hand still resting on Jen’s back as he gently guided her inside.

I followed, using the excuse of securing the door behind me to mask my shock, and the way my stomach twisted at the sight of the house’s condition.

The hallway was a graveyard of neglect. Debris and dirt clung to every surface, creeping up the walls like a sickness. Framed photographs lined the corridor, their glass smeared with filth, the figures beneath obscured as though time itself had tried to erase them. The wallpaper was bubbled and peeling, curling away at the seams, revealing the mottled mold that festered beneath.

The air was thick with the stench of damp, rot, unwashed bodies, and stale urine. It clung to my skin and lodged itself in the back of my throat. A foreign surge of protectiveness swelled in my chest, an unexpected need to help.

Ahead, Mr. Cadmus steered Jen toward the kitchen. Our eyes met as she glanced back at me, and I didn’t need my senses to know we were thinking the same thing—this was bad. Worse than we could have imagined.

And then we stepped into the kitchen.

The hallway had decay creeping at the edges, but this was almost a full collapse. Cabinet doors hung lopsided on their hinges, some pinned permanently ajar by the accumulated filth clogging the floor. Every surface was lost beneath piles of rotting food, unidentifiable soiled textiles, and mold-caked crockery. The sink overflowed with a swamp of stagnant water and decomposing leftovers. Insects skittered away at the disturbance, disappearing into the cracks and corners.

Mr. Cadmus, seemingly unfazed, attempted to clear space at the table, swiping halfheartedly at a cluster of grime-caked debris before pulling out a chair. “Take a seat, dear,” he said warmly.

---