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Authors: Juliann Whicker
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and compeller who stole innocent girl’s souls? I can’t say I had the pleasure. A pity really considering how much we have in common.” His voice dripped sarcasm as thick as the slime on the jaws of the creature by my window. “Did you meet my friend, Pisces, the silver demon hunter? You should sometime. He’s very friendly, besides the death lust and the annoying habit he has of randomly sharpening his teeth on people. Perhaps that’s how he expresses his friendliness.”
I stared at the shadows that wrapped him, unable to see features, the mouth that was probably curved in a derisive sneer and remembered the scent, how it felt to be swallowed in the Nether mists. If I had to bear the scent of the monster out of my window much longer I thought I would throw up, or cry, or both.
I reached a hand towards the shadows, tentatively pushing through the warm dampness that swallowed my hand in shadows. I felt nothing as I moved my hand down, although there should have been a car seat somewhere halfway up my wrist. It was as though shadows and other stuff didn’t really take up the same space, somehow they switched places. I scooted closer towards him, until with a start he wrapped his hand around my wrist and gave me a sharp tug.
“What are you doing?” he asked in a voice that sounded almost amused, still firmly holding my wrist. He wasn’t made out of mists anyway.
“I thought if I had more mists, closer, then I wouldn’t be able to smell the monster and throw up. Your mists are really potent. I don’t see how you can smell or sense anything else with so much wrapped around you.”
“You get used to it,” he said shortly, then after a moment’s pause. “You actually want to get closer to me? I don’t recommend it, but it wouldn’t bother me.”
I found myself pulled into the darkness, falling forward as gravity ceased having any kind of meaning, swallowed up in the warm, damp world until I found myself touching a shoulder with the hand that wasn’t still held by his. The smell of the mists was so encompassing, so rich, dark, and sweet, that I forgot about the other scent, the other world that had so recently occupied so much of my mind. I felt my heart slow as I relaxed, lost for a long moment in a relief so heavy I felt buoyed by it.
There was nothing to see, so I let my eyes close, not trying to see or make sense of a world inside of my world where there was the Nether, dark and dangerous inside the steaming mist that soothed every ache I had. There was a distinct lack of pain before something shifted inside of my mind or intention, and I realized then that the skin under my hand was bare, wet and slick. My hand slid over the shoulder, down a chest, a stomach with rippling muscles until his other hand came firmly over mine, stopping my progression any lower.
I opened my eyes, startled, but there was nothing to see, although the darkness seemed to caress my eyes, soothing the strain I’d had trying to see in the dim light. I pulled back, suddenly.
He didn’t resist, letting me slip out of his grasp like a fish in a stream until with a choked cry and a disoriented lurch, where I ended half off the seat, I was back in Satan’s car, staring horrified at the shadow across from me while a monster breathed through the glass behind my head with an awful smell that was almost comforting.
“Are you naked?” I shrieked. I’d never asked a boy that before, and the Nether might be a monster, but he was still a boy monster.
He laughed, and that sound flooded my head, sending all my rational thoughts skittering away like leaves in the wind. He shouldn’t have a voice that could do that, not when he was naked under all those mists, not when he smelled like that and could appear like magic in Satan’s car. I glared at the shadows, desperately trying to think of something that would shut him up, the laugh that mocked my innocence, that mocked my helplessness, that mocked my fear.
The sound of metal against
I stared at the shadows that wrapped him, unable to see features, the mouth that was probably curved in a derisive sneer and remembered the scent, how it felt to be swallowed in the Nether mists. If I had to bear the scent of the monster out of my window much longer I thought I would throw up, or cry, or both.
I reached a hand towards the shadows, tentatively pushing through the warm dampness that swallowed my hand in shadows. I felt nothing as I moved my hand down, although there should have been a car seat somewhere halfway up my wrist. It was as though shadows and other stuff didn’t really take up the same space, somehow they switched places. I scooted closer towards him, until with a start he wrapped his hand around my wrist and gave me a sharp tug.
“What are you doing?” he asked in a voice that sounded almost amused, still firmly holding my wrist. He wasn’t made out of mists anyway.
“I thought if I had more mists, closer, then I wouldn’t be able to smell the monster and throw up. Your mists are really potent. I don’t see how you can smell or sense anything else with so much wrapped around you.”
“You get used to it,” he said shortly, then after a moment’s pause. “You actually want to get closer to me? I don’t recommend it, but it wouldn’t bother me.”
I found myself pulled into the darkness, falling forward as gravity ceased having any kind of meaning, swallowed up in the warm, damp world until I found myself touching a shoulder with the hand that wasn’t still held by his. The smell of the mists was so encompassing, so rich, dark, and sweet, that I forgot about the other scent, the other world that had so recently occupied so much of my mind. I felt my heart slow as I relaxed, lost for a long moment in a relief so heavy I felt buoyed by it.
There was nothing to see, so I let my eyes close, not trying to see or make sense of a world inside of my world where there was the Nether, dark and dangerous inside the steaming mist that soothed every ache I had. There was a distinct lack of pain before something shifted inside of my mind or intention, and I realized then that the skin under my hand was bare, wet and slick. My hand slid over the shoulder, down a chest, a stomach with rippling muscles until his other hand came firmly over mine, stopping my progression any lower.
I opened my eyes, startled, but there was nothing to see, although the darkness seemed to caress my eyes, soothing the strain I’d had trying to see in the dim light. I pulled back, suddenly.
He didn’t resist, letting me slip out of his grasp like a fish in a stream until with a choked cry and a disoriented lurch, where I ended half off the seat, I was back in Satan’s car, staring horrified at the shadow across from me while a monster breathed through the glass behind my head with an awful smell that was almost comforting.
“Are you naked?” I shrieked. I’d never asked a boy that before, and the Nether might be a monster, but he was still a boy monster.
He laughed, and that sound flooded my head, sending all my rational thoughts skittering away like leaves in the wind. He shouldn’t have a voice that could do that, not when he was naked under all those mists, not when he smelled like that and could appear like magic in Satan’s car. I glared at the shadows, desperately trying to think of something that would shut him up, the laugh that mocked my innocence, that mocked my helplessness, that mocked my fear.
The sound of metal against
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