Page 45 of Corrupt Shadows

An orange hue emits from the two lights outside the church door, illuminating the arched entrances and wooden door lined with black bolts. Within the depths of the graves beyond the church, a thick layer of fog dances in illusory spirals.

A marbled statue of a weeping angel stands sentry in a path carved from stone. A musty, perfumed scent hits the back of my throat when Rosa opens the door.

Our footsteps echo through the empty chamber. My heart races, and I flex my fingers, preparing to run. This is the last place I want to be.

Rosa nudges my ribs gently. “I’m surprised you haven’t burst into flames yet.”

I know she’s trying to lighten the mood, but with what happened yesterday, I take her comment to heart. “It’s a very real possibility.”

“Come on, Evie babe. We’re in the right place.” She grabs my hand and squeezes my fingers. “It’s going to be okay.”

She pulls me into one of the pews, and I spot a pamphlet for this weekend’s coffee morning on the wooden ledge in front of my knees.

My skin crawls as I raise my eyes toward the intricately carved wooden pillars. The church is a haven to many, but I can’t be sure who is and isn’t a part of the Order. I can’t imagine they would invite a pastor from a tiny town on the edge of the map, but if they know I’m here, then they’d have eyes on me. “This is a mistake.” I stand from the hard, polished pew, but she pulls me back down.

“Stop it.” Her brown stare bores into me. “You can’t run from this.”

I close my eyes. Running is all I know, and it’s worked for me before, but she’s right. A demonic attachment has formed, and that’s above the laws of what a human can do. He can follow me anywhere, and if I don’t get help, I don’t know how long my mind can survive him. Maybe it’s his influence urging me to get out of here.

I bury my head in my hands. The moon’s pale light shines through the stained-glass windows, fracturing reds and blues onto the stone floor at my feet. It’s somehow colder inside. I wait for the pastor to come, grateful Rosa set up the meeting but also terrified that I might be walking into a trap.

I’m not sure what else to do.

The refuge of God is my only hope, but I’m certain He abandoned me long ago. Not even a pastor can liberate me from my sins. I look up and spot an abandoned red rose on the ground between the lines of pews. Something tells me it’s from a funeral. I place my hand over my stomach.

I’ve never attended a funeral, which is ironic, considering how many I’ve caused. I wonder how long it’ll be until they report Jay missing.

“Stop overthinking,” Rosa says. “You’re way too hard on yourself.”

“You think that because you don’t know the truth.” I look down at my feet. I told her some of what happened—that the demon came and killed Jay, and that he’s been oppressing me. She’s worried about possession, although I’m pretty sure Lorcan would rather own me than take over my body. I may have omitted a few things. One being how he made me come harder than anyone else, and two, how desperate I am for him to do it again. I long for his touch.

I hate myself for thinking about it. But my body reacts nonetheless.

Rosa grabs me by the sides of my arms and pulls me to face her. The heat in my cheeks quickly dissipates.

Her lip quivers, something I’ve not seen before. I hate the pity in her eyes. She should save it for someone who’s earned it. “No one deserves what you’re going through,” she states. “Believe it or not, when you came to town with no family and refused to speak of your past, I guessed you were hiding something.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “I’m a therapist. You seriously think I don’t know there’s a lot you’re not telling me?” Her chest rises and falls sharply. “I know when you’re ready, you’ll tell me, but I promise you nothing will scare me away.” She pauses. “Unless you’re a serial killer.” She’s teasing, but little does she know… “But none of that matters. This demon stuff has gone on way too long. We’re putting a stop to it… today.” She pauses and lowers her voice to a whisper. “What happened to Jay isn’t your fault.” Her fists clench, and she stares ahead. “It’s that vile, disgusting fucking demon.”

She lets out a long shaky exhale. I swallow thickly, wanting more than anything to believe her, but maybe the dark magic inside me isn’t dark for its own sake. What if it’s like that because of me? Edward told me that magic like mine was shaped by the witch’s personality. So if it’s just an extension of me, then I’m the terrifying thing people should stay away from.

I avert my gaze from hers. “Rosa,” I whisper as I attempt to hold back a fearful sob. “If something happens to me, promise me you’ll take care of Gomez.” I already know she will, but I need to hear audible confirmation. “Please.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” she says with a determination so fierce that I could believe her if I didn’t already know the outcome of this.

Demons form attachments and oppression settles in, then the darker a person becomes, the more susceptible they are to possession. Fortunately for Lorcan, I already walk the line so it’s only too easy for him to pull me into my shadows.

Footsteps bounce off the tall, stone-bricked walls. I glance up and spot the man who’s my only hope. With a quick scan, I check for any evidence he might be in the Order, but there’s no upside-down cross.

I need to know if I can trust him. He can’t be any older than fifty, and he has kind eyes. But then, so did Edward at first.

Magic sparks in my chest, like shots of liquid heat searing into my bones. My magic doesn’t like that I’m in here.

“Good evening, Rosa. I assume this is the friend you were telling me about?” His smile is too gentle, and I worry if he won’t be able to handle the power inside me—or Lorcan.

Their conversation fades as I stare ahead, dissociating in and out of reality. The lack of benzos pulls my anxiety to a new level, and I’m sweating despite the cold air. I fucking hate my doctor. Apparently he’s not happy with ‘filling the prescription early’. I grit my teeth, then flex my fingers.

The pastor sits against the back of a pew two lines up from us and crosses his legs. “I’m Father Thomas.”

My magic grows agitated the more the pastor stares at me. Ever since my powers fused with Lorcan’s, they’ve felt even more dangerous than usual. I’m finding it difficult to keep them suppressed like I used to.

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