Page 53 of Corrupt Shadows

I roll my eyes, then grab my bag and head up the path, steadying myself as I tread over uneven stone. I reach the door, still open from whoever broke the original locks many years ago. The chains and padlock rust, hanging from the handles. Slowly, I walk inside, my fingers grazing the chain as I push open the door.

I must have come here a hundred times, but something feels different this time. The dark hallways beckon me, but I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand erect. I can’t see a thing, so I pull out my phone to use the flashlight, nervous as I hold it up to light the hallway of what might show itself.

Nothing but graffiti, old medical equipment, and dried blood clinging to the walls comes into view. Being around Lorcan has me on edge, the fucking psycho maniac. Although, he is a demon. What should I expect?

I cling to the bag with everything needed for a summoning ritual, and the unmistakable shuffling of boots against floorboards sounds as I reach the end of the hallway. I grab the banister to the rotting, wooden stairs and pause. With a sharp inhale, I hold my breath, listening for sounds of intruders. I don’t want to run into a bunch of teens doing Ouija boards, or demons stalking me on behalf of the asshole in my mirror.

I white-knuckle the handle of the bag as it cuts into my fingers, and I let out my breath. Slowly, I climb the rickety stairs, the wood creaking beneath each step. I glide my fingers along the handrail, my nail catching against a newly formed cobweb, sending it drifting to the ground.

I enter a narrow hallway and turn into a patient room, number 203—an ex-serial killer’s residence, or so I read. There should be enough fucked-up energy in here to help feed the summoning ritual.

A boot scuffs against the ground in the corridor, and I turn to face the door, shining my phone light at the entrance. My heart stammers its next beat as a man steps into view, his hands clasped behind his back.

Father Thomas, the pastor from the church, walks inside, old ritual candles and bits of animal skulls crunching under his shiny shoes. “Good evening, Evangeline.”

I lower my phone light, the powdery white light illuminating his soft features and collared shirt. I quickly drop the tote bag from my other hand. “What are you doing here? Did you follow me?”

“Yes,” he says, his eyes averting to meet mine. Between his index finger and thumb, a rosary hangs, and he rubs the beads. “I heard what you said to Rosa. I prayed she would run as soon as you left to come in here, but she didn’t. Sadly, she’s drawn to your evil as much as poor Jason was.” He lets out a heavy sigh, and I realize he’s talking about Jay. I rarely heard him being called by anything but his nickname. “How can I look at his parents knowing the truth, that he was murdered. They still think he’s missing and might return home.”

My voice is lost, my throat tight as I try to find the words. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He takes another step, this time cracking a shard of glass under his foot.

My shadows build inside, vibrating through me along with my death magic, sensing the danger. “Don’t come closer,” I warn, finally finding my voice. “If you heard us outside, then you know I’m dangerous. I don’t want to kill you.”

He shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. “You act as if you have morals,” he spits, clenching the beads tighter. “I do not fear the face of evil.” His gaze glides down to the tote bag, and he spots the candles and grimoire sticking out. “What is your plan once you summon the demon?”

My magic pulses. Fuck, keep it in. Keep. It. In.

A shadow dances behind him, and I clench my fists. “Get back!” I yell, holding my arm out as my magic dances ever closer to tearing him apart. I can’t have even more blood on my hands.

He halts, and my heartrate quickens. “I’ll leave,” I say and let out a long, shaky breath. “Okay? I’ll skip town. I’m not evil, and well, the demon, he is attached to me. If I’m gone, then there’s no evil in this town.”

“Evie?” Rosa’s voice travels from where she’s entered downstairs. “Oh my God, please answer me. It’s so fucking creepy in here.”

His blue eyes narrow, and he steps back. A second shadow shifts closer, and this time he sees it. It moves around me in wisps, and sweat collects on my forehead. “Go!” I yell, pointing at the door as the heavy, hot hum of death magic creeps closer to the surface. I have absolutely no control over that one, unlike my shadow magic.

“Don’t come up here,” I shout, praying Rosa hears me. “Get out now.”

Father Thomas looks me up and down, his face blanched. His eyes lock onto my tattoos, and uneasiness settles into my gut. “You… You’re a Fallenmoore.”

No. No. How the fuck does he know? “What?” I scoff in an attempt to laugh it off, but his jaw slacks.

“Those markings,” he says, pointing at the ones visible from under my rolled-up sleeves. “You’re a death witch.”

I press my lips tightly. The Order must have told him, to keep him on lookout. I bet every town and village in Washington state has been alerted, to know who to watch for ever since I ran.

He runs off, and panic squeezes my chest. He’s going to tell them I’m here. I run out after him, my magic humming under my skin, ready to be used.

“Evie!” Rosa’s voice echoes closer. I spot the pastor at the end of the corridor as he disappears around a corner. Behind me, Rosa appears, running to meet me. Her breaths come out in short bursts when she reaches me, her eyes wild in the dark. “I saw Father Thomas…”

“He was here.” I grind my teeth, looking at the empty space where he ran to. I can’t use my powers on him, not with Rosa here, and he could come back at any moment. “We should leave,” I say, dismissing the summoning bag.

TWENTY-THREE

Lorcan

I try to kick myself out of the nightmare, but nothing works.

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