Devil's Halo

Chapter 6 (Evangeline): Unseen Threads

The yakitori in my hands suddenly seemed less appetizing as I waited for the man—Lucius, as he eventually introduced himself—to unravel the mysteries that had begun to choke the life out of my reality. His name rolled off his tongue with a straightforwardness that had characterized all his interactions with me so far. Knowing his name didn't bring me ease as I'd hoped it would.

"Who are you, Lucius? If you're not like them, then what?" I pressed, hoping for some semblance of clarity. But clarity seemed a luxury he wasn't willing to afford me. Instead of answers, I got more questions, his interest sharply pivoting towards me. "How long have you been seeing...unusual things?" he inquired, his gaze intense, as if trying to peer into my very soul. I scoffed, using my food as an excuse not to give him an immediate answer, taking another bite.

The vibrant nightlife of Little Tokyo hummed around us. People laughed and chatted, completely oblivious to the supernatural storm brewing in their midst. I tried to focus, to gather my thoughts and pierce through the veil Lucius draped over our conversation, but it was like grasping at shadows.

His refusal to provide clear answers frayed my nerves, but before I could probe further, my phone rang. Pulling it from my purse, I saw Martha's name flash on the screen. "Excuse me," I murmured to Lucius, sliding my finger over the screen to answer. "Martha? What's up?"

"Evangeline, where's Ren? She's not answering her phone, and I'm getting worried," Martha's voice crackled through, tinged with panic. My heart sank. Ren. In the chaos of the night, her departure had been a blur—a moment marred by my confrontation with Lucius and the demons.

Panic knotted my stomach. "I—I don't know, Martha. She left with some guy, and I haven't heard from her since." The words tasted like ash in my mouth, the worry for my friend eclipsing the surreal encounter with Lucius.

I glanced at Lucius, his expression unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes—guilt? Was it possible? Then it hit me, a wave of realization so strong it nearly knocked me off my feet. I could sense his guilt, a thread of emotion so palpable it wove itself into the very fabric of my being. How? Why was I able to feel this now?

Confronting him, I felt a surge of anger. "You. You did something, didn't you?" The accusation flew from my lips, fueled by a mix of newfound power and concern for Ren.

Lucius didn't flinch. Instead, he met my gaze squarely, a matter-of-fact tone in his voice. "Yes, I may have...influenced her decision to leave with that man." His admission, devoid of remorse, ignited a fire within me.

"Then you're going to help me find her. Now." It wasn't a request. The urgency to find Ren, to ensure her safety, pushed everything else to the background. I dialed Ren's number, desperation coloring each ring that went unanswered.

Lucius observed me for a moment longer before nodding slowly. "Very well. Let's find your friend." His agreement, though begrudging, offered a sliver of hope amidst the turmoil.

Instead of leaving a voicemail – because who listens to those anymore – I sent a quick text, 'call me'. Aboutto put my phone back in my purse, I stopped and added another text, 'r u ok?'

Leaving half of my food uneaten, I briskly left the table, threw my purse over my shoulder, and turned on my heel, waiting for Lucius to follow. The vibrant hum of Little Tokyo at night felt oddly muffled, as if I was hearing it from underwater. My focus was laser-sharp on the task at hand—finding Ren. Lucius rose, his movements fluid and assured, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside me. As he approached, I could feel the weight of his gaze, assessing, calculating.

Without a word, we began moving through the crowded streets, the neon glow of signs casting colorful shadows on our path. Lucius led with a confidence that suggested he knew exactly where he was going, yet we had no clear direction. The peculiar feeling of being able to sense his guilt still lingered, an unexplained connection between us that felt both invasive and intimate.