Childlike laughter slips through the house on a thin breeze, bouncing lightly from room to room, too cheerful for a place that has learned to stay quiet.

  Lily's shoulders tense before she can stop them.

  "...It's laughing," she whispers. "That feels unnecessary."

  Colin snorts softly. "You'd prefer polite knocking?"

  "Yes," she says immediately. "Actually, yes. That would be great."

  He passes her the hot-water bottle. "I'll put that on the suggestion list."

  She takes it and presses it to her stomach, curling slightly around the warmth. Her fingers grip it harder when the laughter returns, closer now, joined by a faint creak somewhere below. Wood adjusting. Or something stepping where it shouldn't.

  "Is it helping?" Colin asks.

  "No," she says. "But now it hurts in a more...considerate way."

  He nods. "Luxury pain."

  A faint smile flickers across her face and vanishes just as quickly when a sharp sound snaps through the house. Not laughter this time. Something dull. Like a hand brushing a railing. Or a toy dropped on purpose.

  Lily flinches.

  Colin raises an eyebrow. "You just did it again."

  "I didn't."

  "You absolutely did."

  She shifts, trying to sit up, and immediately regrets it. Pain clamps down, sudden and vicious. A cold shiver runs through her as her breath stutters.

  "Okay, nope," she mutters.

  Colin's hand is already at her side, firm, steady. "Stay low, little one."

  She exhales shakily. "They sound closer."

  He tilts his head, listening. The laughter floats again, light and playful, threaded now with a soft, rhythmic tapping somewhere out of sight.

  "Still sounds like bad timing to me," he says. "And poor judgment."

  "That's not a category."

  "It is if you're me."

  Another sound. A faint scrape. Something shifting weight. Then silence. Too clean. Too intentional.

  Lily swallows. Her eyes track the doorway, the ceiling, the thin spaces where sound likes to hide. "What if there... checking?"

  Colin leans back, deliberately relaxed. "Then they're doing a terrible job."

  She looks at him. "You're not scared at all, are you?"

  He shrugs. "If I panic, it wins. If I joke, it gets confused."

  "That's your plan?"

  "Hasn't failed me yet."

  The laughter drifts again, closer than before, almost curious now. Lily presses the warmth tighter to herself and inches nearer without thinking. Her shoulder brushes his arm.

  He doesn't move away.

  "Next time," she murmurs, voice thin, "you're the one dealing with cramps and haunted houses."

  Colin smirks. "I'll take the house."

  A sweet scent cuts through the air, sudden and wrong, cloying enough to make Lily's breath hitch.

  "Scoot over, little one."

  Colin pulls her into him before she can answer, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close. The blanket follows, dragged up and over them both, sealing them into a pocket of warmth and shadow. His body is solid behind her, unyielding, a wall that does not ask permission.

  He lowers his face until he can see her properly.

  "You smell horrible," he says.

  She lets out a thin, shaky breath that almost becomes a laugh. "You're one to talk. You smell like rotten garlic."

  His mouth curves. Just slightly.

  But her eyes betray her. Wide. Shining. Fixed on nothing and everything at once.

  "Hey," he murmurs. "Don't panic this time."

  Her breathing stutters.

  "Close your eyes."

  She hesitates. Then obeys.

  The moment her lashes meet, glass shatters somewhere below. Sharp. Explosive. Too close. The sound ricochets through the house as laughter erupts with it, not one voice but many, high and gleeful, overlapping, bouncing off walls that were never meant to hold joy like that.

  The laughter swarms.

  Lily's body trembles despite herself.

  "Don't quiver," Colin says calmly, tightening his hold just enough for her to feel it. "I've got you."

  The laughter grows louder. Closer. It moves like a group, careless and coordinated but chaotic, childlike voices slipping past one another, playing with the echo.

  Colin lowers his mouth near her ear, his voice steady, almost amused.

  "I'm the real monster here," he whispers. "And I'll keep the demons at bay."

  "What are you even saying, silly marshmallow?" Lily whispers, trying to keep her voice light. It trembles anyway.

  Colin huffs softly. "I don't even know either."

  He shifts, already moving away.

  "Stay here," he says. "I'll go check on them."

  "Please don't."

  She grabs the back of his black hoodie, fingers curling into the fabric like it's the only solid thing left in the room. For a heartbeat, it almost works.

  Then, in one smooth motion, he pulls himself free.

  "Don't worry, little one," he says easily. "Weeds like me don't get erased."

  Her throat tightens. "Just... be careful."

  He pauses at the door, one hand resting on the handle. The house is holding its breath. Somewhere beyond the walls, the laughter shifts, rearranges itself.

  He turns back once.

  He smiles.

  Never.

  Then he steps through the doorway, and the door closes behind him.

  His gaze drops to the wooden floor as the sweet smell pushes into his nose, thick and unwelcome, like a guest that refuses to leave.

  "Fuck," he whispers.

  His hand drags over his face. His heart is too loud, pounding high in his throat.

  I need to know how many there are.

  He leans forward, careful, angling himself over the staircase that is barely a staircase anymore. Most of the steps are gone, leaving only gaps and broken lines that fall into darkness. He lowers himself, slow, controlled, until his weight rests flat against the floor.

  He peers down.

  "Where are you?" he breathes.

  They come into view.

  His eyes widen.

  Yellowish. As always. Shaking, but moving slowly, deliberately. Human shapes, almost right, but never fully there. Like something copied from memory and then left unfinished.

  A devil's creation.

  There is a child among them.

  And one of them is pregnant.

  His jaw tightens.

  I could take them, he thinks, the calculation forming before he allows it. Distance. Angles. Sound. Time.

  The child's eyes lift.

  For a second, they lock onto him.

  Colin's breath stills.

  But the child does not react. No scream. No signal. No laugh. Just that same vacant, drifting attention, already slipping away.

  He pulls back.

  Slowly. Quietly.

  He rises, turns, and moves the way he came, keeping his weight light, his breathing measured. The sweet smell follows him, clinging, stubborn.

  "Lily?" he whispers as he steps back into the room.

  Nothing.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "Lily."

  Still nothing.

  Something in him hardens.

  A sharp creak slices through the silence.

  That's enough.

  His body switches before his mind finishes the thought. No hesitation. No caution. This is no longer searching. This is intercept.

  He moves toward the sound with lethal purpose, weight low, steps silent, breath controlled. His hand tightens, fingers already shaping around impact, around bone, around the place where a life ends quickly.

  The closet door opens.

  His fist is already in motion.

  Not a warning.

  Not a threat.

  A kill.

  It stops a fraction too late.

  Fabric instead of skull.

  Black. Clean. White charcoal stripes.

  Arms wrap around him.

  He reacts without mercy.

  He drops his weight and drags the body down with him, turning as they fall so they land at an angle. His legs snap closed around her instantly, one threading underneath, the other climbing high and crossing over her body like a hammer. His hips shift sideways and lock her in place before gravity finishes its work.

  Her movement dies.

  His grip changes seamlessly.

  One hand traps her wrist and folds the arm back against itself. The other threads through and clamps onto his own forearm. His shoulder sinks. Pressure builds with precision.

  Something is about to break.

  "Argh, Colin, you're hurting me!"

  The voice detonates inside him.

  His body freezes mid-finish.

  Lily!

  The realization hits like a blow to the chest.

  He releases instantly. Legs unlock. Arms pull back, as if the hold burns. He scrambles off her, breath suddenly ragged.

  "I'm so sorry," he breathes.

  She lies on him. Alive. Shaking. Eyes wide with shock. The suit rumpled pinned down between them.

  For a moment he just stares, heart hammering like it hasn't understood yet that the threat changed shape.

  "Don't do that," he says finally, voice low, dangerous, edged with something he doesn't let through. "Ever."

  The rumble of the struggle bleeds into the laughter.

  It's closer now.

  Colin doesn't hesitate.

  He extends his left leg, pushing Lily's knee aside as he twists his hips to the right. With a sharp pull and a sweep of his right leg, he rolls her over and is already moving before the moment finishes forming.

  He's on his feet.

  He rushes for the staircase.

  And there it stands.

  A giant of a man, nearly Colin's size, broad and heavy, shoulders thick with a strength that looks old and badly contained. A wild beard frames his face, hair falling loose and uneven around it. Its posture is relaxed. Curious.

  They lock eyes.

  Colin's are a clear, hard blue.

  The other's are glassy green. Unfocused. Reflective. Like light passing through something hollow.

  The thing tilts its head.

  A wide smile stretches across its face.

  Lily scrambles up beside him, breath loud, uneven. Colin takes her hand without looking and squeezes once, steady, grounding.

  His gaze never leaves the figure.

  Fear coils tight in his chest, sharp and real, but it doesn't reach his face. What shows instead is ferocity. Stillness. Readiness.

  His eyes flick briefly to the walls.

  Blood.

  Dark smears dragged across plaster. Handprints. Something sprayed high, as if thrown. The smell in the air suddenly makes sense.

  Lily sees it too. Her hand flies to her mouth.

  The man laughs.

  Not layered.

  Not distant.

  One voice.

  High and wrong. Like a child barely old enough to speak. A laugh without memory or restraint, too pure for the damage around it.

  "Di... did it kill the rest?" Lily whispers.

  Colin doesn't look away.

  "Probably."

  "What is it doing?" Fear fractures her voice.

  He swallows. There's a tight knot in his throat now, heavy and unfamiliar.

  "I think," he says quietly, eyes locked on the glassy green stare, "it's challenging me."

  The creature turns away.

  Just like that.

  Colin doesn't move until it's gone. Then his arms come around Lily and he pulls her in, tight, shielding. Her body folds against him. Tears soak into his chest, hot and silent, her breathing broken and uneven.

  He lowers his mouth to her hair.

  "Hey," he whispers. "May I borrow your knitting needles?"

  She hiccups, half-sobs. "What?"

  "I think," he says softly, forcing the lightness, "I want to try your favorite hobby."

  Her grip loosens. She pulls back just enough to look at him. Her eyes are red, wet, searching his face for something solid.

  He gives her a small nod.

  She swallows, then nods back. Yes.

  The moment breaks.

  A heavy thud slams into them.

  The house jolts.

  Colin reacts instantly.

  He twists, yanks the door open behind Lily and shoves her inside. "Get the needles," he snaps, already turning back.

  Something lies at his feet.

  Small.

  Broken.

  The body of the child.

  The one he locked eyes with.

  Crushed. Mangled. Bent in ways a body should never bend. Blood spreads beneath it, dark and soaking into the floorboards.

  Colin freezes.

  Disbelief hits him first. Sharp. Disorienting.

  Then understanding.

  Cold. Absolute.

  This wasn't a challenge.

  This...

  This was a trade.

  He looks back at it.

  It stands there, pointing at the room, laughing, never breaking eye contact with him. The sound is wrong up close, thin and uneven, like a voice that hasn't learned its own limits yet.

  Colin steps closer to the door. He opens it only far enough for a single hand to slip through.

  "Lily."

  Cold steel presses into his palm.

  Knitting needles.

  "Thank you, little one."

  His eyes stay locked on the creature as he speaks again. "Can you give me some food? Just something small. I need to try something."

  "We only have fish," she whispers.

  "Then give me the smallest one," he says, irritation slipping through despite himself.

  She moves to the backpacks, hands unsteady. Fabric rustles. Zippers whisper. She finds one and places it in his hand.

  Colin steps forward and tosses the fish toward the giant.

  It doesn't catch it.

  The creature slaps it away with sudden force, sending it skidding across the floor. An angry sound bursts from its throat, high and infantile, like a child screaming before it understands what it wants. Its mouth twists oddly as it makes the noise, muscles pulling without coordination.

  Lily's breath turns shallow.

  There has to be a way out.

  Her eyes sweep the room. Cracked walls. Old stains darkened with age. Rot where time has eaten into wood and plaster.

  The window.

  She moves without thinking.

  She slips through, hands scraping against cold stone. Outside, the roof tiles are damp, slick with moss. The moment she shifts her weight, one tile slides loose beneath her foot.

  The world tilts.

  It wants Lily.

  The certainty lands cold and heavy.

  How do we get out of this?

  It's tall enough. Strong enough. If it really wants to come up here, it can.

  A thud.

  "LILY, SAY SOMETHING!"

  The creature shifts.

  Colin reacts instantly.

  He grabs the small body at his feet and hurls it forward without hesitation. It slams into the creature's chest and shoulder, forcing it to stumble back a step, arms flaring wide in surprise.

  That's enough.

  Colin turns and surges through the door.

  "LILY!"

  The room is empty.

  His eyes snap to the window.

  It's open.

  He's there in two strides. He leans out and spots her below, crumpled but moving. Alive.

  The laughter is closer now. Too close.

  He doesn't think.

  Colin swings himself through the window, slides down the slick roof, and drops hard onto the grass. The impact rattles through his legs, sharp and punishing, but he doesn't slow.

  The creature is already there.

  Standing over Lily.

  Colin sprints.

  Full speed.

  He launches upward, driving his knee forward with everything he has. Bone and mass collide as his knee crashes into the creature's torso, the force of his momentum slamming it backward and breaking its balance.

  One of the needles slips from his hand.

  The creature lunges.

  Fast. Wild. Arms swinging with ferocity, weight thrown forward without restraint.

  Colin steps back, eyes locked not on the hands but on the creature's chest. Breath. Balance. The moment it commits.

  It steps in.

  Colin plants his right foot beside it and drops his body to the left. His arm slices across its torso as his hips drive upward, his whole frame folding into it, sharp and sudden, like closing steel.

  The creature loses its footing.

  It crashes to the ground.

  Colin moves with it, just fast enough to stay close. He drives the needle into its ribs, pushing hard, expecting resistance.

  There is none.

  No flinch. No break. No pain.

  Shock snaps through him.

  The creature surges anyway, brute strength overwhelming leverage. It claws, twists, forces him off and scrambles back to its feet, movements violent and wrong, as if pain never entered the equation.

  Lily's eyes flutter open.

  The world comes back in fragments.

  Two vague silhouettes collide, barely human shapes shifting in and out of focus. Her head swims. Sound arrives late, smeared.

  Then something large cuts through the blur.

  Fast. Black.

  It slams into one of the shapes with a growl that shakes the air. A groan follows, sharp and human.

  Lily blinks hard.

  The image sharpens.

  A giant black dog with a white chest, jaws clamped tight around Colin's fist.

  She struggles upright and spots the needle Colin dropped earlier. It lies half-hidden in the grass. Her fingers close around it as she forces herself to stand, legs shaking.

  The creature charges.

  Straight for Colin.

  No hesitation. No feint. Its intent is clear, simple, absolute. The sweet stench thickens with every step, its yellowed skin gleaming as it closes the distance.

  Colin's hand is slick with blood. His fingers barely respond. It doesn't matter.

  The dog is still on him.

  He growls through the pain and heaves upward, lifting the dog as her teeth tear free from his flesh. Muscle screams. Skin gives. He roars, raw and unfiltered, and steps forward anyway.

  Left foot plants.

  He drives everything he has upward into the creature's chin.

  The impact snaps its head back.

  The Dog loses her grip and hits the ground hard, then surges forward again, latching onto the creature's arm, shaking it violently, snarling deep and animal.

  Colin moves.

  He rushes in, spots Lily through the chaos.

  "Now!" he shouts.

  She raises the needle, tears streaking down her face. "I—I can't reach him!"

  The creature thrashes, half-blinded by pain, half-unfazed by it. Colin grabs fistfuls of its hair and drags its head down, veins standing out in his neck.

  The dog growls beside him, teeth still buried, pulling in short, brutal jerks.

  Colin slams his fist into the creature's throat, vicious and direct. The sound is wet. Wrong. The head dips lower.

  "Now, Lily!"

  She steps in.

  Her hand trembles.

  Then she drives the needle forward.

  Into its eye.

  The creature laughs, convulsing, still fighting even as Colin sweeps its legs out and sends it crashing to the ground. He drops onto it and strikes again and again until it doesn't move again.

  Suddenly the dog turns.

  Her focus snaps.

  She lunges toward Lily.

  Colin reacts instantly.

  He throws himself sideways and wraps his legs around the dog's body, locking her close and dragging her out of Lily's path as they hit the ground together. Her weight slams into him. Teeth snap inches from his arm.

  "Don't!" Lily cries, the needle still raised.

  "No!" Colin barks back, straining to hold the dog. "Don't hurt her!"

  The dog thrashes, confused, snarling, muscles coiling and releasing beneath his legs.

  "It doesn't know," he grunts, breath ragged, pain burning through him. "It's just confused."

  The air is thick with breath and blood and broken rhythm.

  Nothing is finished.

  Drool runs down his face as the dog keeps snapping, teeth flashing close enough for him to feel the heat of her breath. Her body thrashes, heavy and powerful, panic driving every movement.

  Colin adjusts.

  Slow. Careful.

  He slides behind her, draws her back until her spine presses hard against his stomach. One arm comes across her chest, not crushing, just firm. His legs spread and lock around hers, wide and grounded, turning her strength inward.

  Whatever she does now can't reach him.

  Or Lily.

  She bucks. Growls. Tries again.

  Colin doesn't tighten.

  He breathes.

  "It's okay," he murmurs into her ear. "I won't hurt you."

  She snaps blindly, jaws clacking shut inches from skin.

  "I won't hurt you," he repeats. Same tone. Same rhythm.

  Lily stands frozen a few steps away, needle clenched in her fist, knuckles white. Her breath comes too fast. Every instinct screams at her to end it.

  She steps forward.

  "No."

  Colin's voice cuts through her.

  Sharp. Final.

  "She's confused," he says, eyes never leaving the dog. "That's all."

  Minutes drag by. Long, brutal ones. His muscles tremble. Sweat burns his eyes. Blood from his hand smears warm against her fur.

  Her movements slow. The growls fray into rough panting. The snapping stops.

  Eventually, her weight settles back against him.

  Colin waits. Counts breaths. Only then does he ease his hold by fractions. She doesn't turn. Doesn't bite. Just breathes.

  "Lily," he says quietly. "Food. Water."

  Lily swallows and moves.

  She breaks the fish into pieces with shaking fingers and sets it down. Then water. Careful. Slow.

  The dog lifts her head.

  Sniffs.

  Eats.

  Messy. Desperate. Real.

  Only then does Colin guide her forward and release her completely. He stays ready. She doesn't attack. She stays close, sides heaving.

  Colin finally sinks back onto the ground.

  His hand is torn open. Bite marks bloom deep and ugly along his forearm, edges ragged, swollen, already darkening. Blood seeps freely now.

  Lily is beside him instantly.

  "Sit still," she says, voice tight.

  She pulls a small bottle from her pack. Rum. Cheap. Harsh. She doesn't hesitate.

  "Colin..."

  "I know," he mutters. "Just do it."

  She pours.

  The alcohol floods the wounds, stinging viciously. Colin's body jerks despite himself, a sound tearing out of his throat as his vision whites out.

  "Damn." His jaw clenches hard. He forces himself still.

  Lily scrubs the bites clean with shaking hands, the cloth already soaked red. She tears a strip from her shirt without a word and binds his arm tight, knotting it with clumsy urgency.

  Her hands are slick with his blood.

  "I'm sorry," she whispers.

  He exhales slowly. "Don't be."

  The dog watches them now. Really watches. Dark eyes. White chest smeared with dirt and blood that isn't hers. Her tail twitches once. Then again.

  Colin studies her for a long moment.

  "Freya," he says quietly.

  Her ears flick.

  "Freya," Lily repeats, softer, testing the sound.

  The tail thumps once against the ground.

  Not trust. But close enough.

  Colin pushes himself up with a grunt. "We can't stay."

  "I know."

  They gather their things fast. No ceremony. No looking back. Lily keeps close to him now, her shoulder brushing his good side. Freya follows, alert, uncertain, choosing proximity.

  At the edge of the ruined house, Lily glances back once.

  Then she turns forward.

  Three figures move on.

  Bleeding.

  Exhausted.

  Bound together by pain they didn’t choose.

  But together all the same.