The creature was a stark, leathery charcoal beneath the light of day. Two little horns rose from its head, and though it was shorter than Eve, it made up for lack of height through the sheer brawn of its claw-tipped wings. There was something grotesque about it; the violent hunger in its eyes despite the impish, lizardlike exterior.
It had perched atop an expensive, glossy sports car, which somehow managed to look more out of place in the dusty lot than the monster did. Eve felt her throat go dry at the spike of fear which came from her side, watching Arman’s pointer finger waver midair. Samir inhaled sharply at her back.
A hallow.
So they’d found her. She’d been so careful. Hadn’t allowed the faintest scent of her existence to reach beyond the Divide. Still, she thought as she watched the membrane over those wings flex, even the dullest of the beings in the mythic dimension were bound to notice, eventually. That I’m slaughtering their lackeys and forcing them back home. It would at least explain why there had been so many attempting to break past the barrier. They’d been trying to figure out who their enemy was.
Eve’s stomach filled with leaden calm. She must have pissed someone off.
Hallows were upper beings. Soldiers. Deities strong enough that they could bleed into the human world with only minor consequences.
“Not these bastards again,” Samir muttered, his hands sliding off her skin and dropping to his side.
Again?
Before Eve could so much as open her mouth, his arm shot out, a bullet tearing forward, silencer making the sound dull. It was still loud enough and sudden enough that she jerked backwards, heart shooting up into her throat.
“What are you doing?” Eve hissed, fisting his jacket so she could drag him back. That would never work. It was only a regular bullet. A hallow’s existence wasn’t tied to its flesh and blood.
Predictably, the beast only swayed, its maw dropping open so it could flick a snakelike tongue over elongated fangs. It was doing something - growing larger, spines along its back bristling upright. Trying to intimidate them. Imprint itself in their minds.
“Keeping us safe,” Samir said dryly, shaking her off.
“Don’t look at it,” Eve muttered under her breath, wishing desperately that she'd brought any of her tools with her. “The more you believe it's real, the stronger it will get.” Samir only calmly cocked his head and fired a second time, this time stepping to the side so that the sound would not echo so close to Eve’s ears. She watched, astounded, as the man repeated the action again - and again, and again, and again until the gun clicked empty.
Samir pulled another clip from his pocket and loaded it into the magazine. “You see how that’s impossible though, right? I’m already aware of it. I can’t just wipe my memory.”
“Well, try,” Eve growled. “Pretend you’re on a movie set or something.”
“And let it kill us?”
“Not on my watch,” Eve said, reaching for his weapon. At least she could wield the old magic. Something that would actually deal some damage. Samir lifted the gun higher and resumed shooting. Eve snarled in frustration and leapt, wrestling the weapon from the man’s grip in a maneuver that was definitely entirely unsafe. He gave it up easily after that.
The hallow - sensing that something had changed, let out a screech and tensed, muscles rippling. There wasn’t a single wound across its scales. It leapt from the car, long claws gauging lines across the hood, and for a moment, cast a shadow that blocked out the sun.
Eve exhaled, once, the motion stilling any quiver in her muscles as she searched for fuel. Samir was an utterly useless, empty bucket. But Arman: this man would work just fine. She could see the terror in the flare of his nostrils and the way he worked to swallow but seemed to have forgotten how to work his throat. It bathed her, icy-hot, a cavern that punched the breath straight from her lungs.
She took it all. When her finger pulled the trigger, the bullet glowed purple as it left the chamber.
And this time, when it hit the hallow, mid-leap in their direction, the body pulled apart and scattered like shattered glass into nothingness.
Eve swayed, blinking dark spots from her eyes. Strong emotions made strong magic. It should have been a simple equation. Should have. But the recoil slammed into her more fiercely than it had even the night before, human body scorching beneath the strain. Samir reached for her. She anticipated it, scuttling out of his reach, hands on her knees as she fought to catch her breath. By the time she could see properly again, the man had paused, the corners of his mouth tight, and they held eye contact for one long, still moment.
“What was that?” He asked, words slow and measured. Like he was fighting to keep his voice steady.
Eve set the gun gently down on the ground. “The creature, or me?”
Samir was shaking his head. “Nevermind, I doubt you’ll give me a clear answer either way.” Her mouth twisted in response to his scowl, tone a little too short.
“You couldn’t have gotten rid of it.” She didn’t know why she was humoring him. It was as though his presence compelled her to act foolishly, and the prospect of saying more had Eve wishing she’d never bothered stepping out of the room in the first place that morning. Her dress curled around her ankles when she swiveled, slow and heavy with exhaustion.
“Wait.” Samir reached for her wrist again, but went stiff, holding himself back with a frustrated little flinch. “Arman. What did you do to him?” Eve had forgotten about him, attention sliding briefly and carelessly back over to the kneeling figure. His pupils were dilated, eyes gazing emptily at the horizon.
“He’ll be fine in a few minutes,” Eve said, fight and squabble going out of her voice like a deflating balloon. “Just empty.” Samir moved back, fingers pressing to Arman’s shoulders and lingering there when he did not react.
“Stop talking in code,” Samir shook Arman gently, to no avail. “What do you mean, he’s empty?”
Eve floundered for words. “Well,” she began, hands waving in large movements. “You know, when sometimes, you tune out of the world for just a few minutes, and feel absolutely nothing? And then you seem to snap back into reality?” Her palms collided, the sound sharp. “And everything feels a bit too sharp and vivid for a few seconds, as though you can physically sense the passage of time restarting?” Samir only looked at her, unflinching and blank-faced. Eve lowered her hands. “Nevermind,” she muttered. “Just know he’ll be totally fine in a minute or two.” She turned heel, stomping up the stairs, slightly irritated that she had even tried to explain.
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A pair of long legs fell into step beside her. “You walk too fast.”
She looked up at Samir from beneath her lashes, scrutinizing. “You left him there, like that?”
“You said he’d be fine.”
“Should be fine. So long as there aren’t any more of those things.”
“There won’t be,” Samir said confidently, and seeing Eve’s doubtful glance, explained. “It’s always been the same one. I recognized it - gave it an awful nick along the left flank.” His words rattled her. She sucked in sharply, letting her eyes trace over the furrowed crease of his forehead, then down to his mouth, searching for any sign of a lie. Finding none, her gaze hardened, almost imperceptibly. A blast of AC hit her skin as Samir pulled the door open.
This man - a human - had, through some incomprehensible to her method, injured a creature of the mythic dimension. She shuddered slightly, and it was not because of the chill. She’d heard it was possible of course. That spiteful and vengeful humans had, in the past, deliberately erased their knowledge and fear of certain existences. Had toppled entire faiths, leaving gods searching for scraps of recognition, lest they fade entirely from existence.
But those had been groups, communities, over hundreds of years.
Never a lone individual. One thing was clear now: He was dangerous. And he was being hunted.
It was incomprehensible.
When at last she broke from her thoughts, Samir was still holding the door open for her, posture tight and cautious, like a pet that had been caught doing something wrong. His dark brows were furrowed in anticipation, waiting on some sort of answer or decision from her.
It was a frustrating decision. Eve held his gaze for one second, two.
“Go home, Samir,” She murmured at last. He’d be safer now, with the hallow gone. Something behind those silver eyes crumpled, but it was gone as soon as it had come. Eve felt herself soften a little anyways. As she brushed by him, her fingers traced beneath his jaw, tipping the hanging head upwards. “Chin up. It’s better this way.”
“Better for you, or better for me?” Samir whispered. Disappointment had drawn his shoulders taut.
And well, Eve couldn’t really answer that. But if it had been Samir that had caught the attention of the hallows, she could not afford to spend any more time with him.
In this body, it was all she could do to keep herself alive, much less another useless human.
“Go home,” she said again, gentle, barely cutting over the sound of the door as she pushed it shut.
-
She rented a car the next day, and called Aska from her burner. Eve didn’t do friends anymore, but she certainly would not have survived for so long if she didn’t have a couple of...acquaintances.
Helpful ones.
“Yo,” the girl said, the sounds of running water in the background. “Long time no call.”
“Sorry,” Eve cringed, hearing the careless irritation in that tone, shifting the phone to her other ear. “You know I’ve never been the best at calling.”
“Stupid. Even though you made me buy the phone. Do you know what a hassle it is to keep it functional? There’s no electricity in Cropis.”
“Well, you’re the one who told me not to use magic,” Eve argued back, eyes flicking sideways as she changed lanes.
“Yeah,” Aska drawled. “Because you’re literally not built to handle it anymore.” There was a sound akin to a stone falling into water, and then a long, drawn out sigh. The running water cut out. It was unusual for any of the divine to bathe; there was no need, not when magic would keep you clean. But Aska had always enjoyed it. The poor woman’s body ran so hot that a cold bath helped temper some of that discomfort.
Or so she said.
Eve wasn’t sure that was the honest reasoning, since being warm was Aska’s natural stage of being. But the Elder God of energy had always been a particular one.
“I’m dropping by,” Eve said, for lack of anything else to say.
“You overdid it again,” Aska hummed. It was accusing.
“No,” Eve replied, and the retort sounded weak, even to her. “It was necessary.”
“I’m sure it was,” Aska said in a tone that meant that it had been anything but. For a second, there was only the sound of her splashing around in the tub.
“It’s been almost ten years,” Eve whispered. An even weaker argument to make with an immortal. But she needed the help and was not above begging if need be. Her leg, where it pressed the gas pedal, trembled, joint aching. The silence stretched on. Then Aska sighed, dulcet.
“Fine. Swing by. I’ll get you patched up. But you better bring those things you had last time.”
“The donuts?”
“Yes!” Her voice was positively delighted. “Those.”
“Be there soon,” Eve promised.
“Don’t rush,” Aska purred. “I’ve just gotten in the bath.” There was a click as she hung up the phone.
Her friend had always had a sweet tooth. She should have led with a bribe and spared herself the judgment.
Eve drove for a long time after that pit stop, maybe around two hours, in utter silence. Up North, the foliage grew sparser, and the wind coming in from the coast picked up. There wasn’t a single town around, the unassuming, empty county a mess of empty farming fields. Burnt sugar tickled her nose, sinking into the car upholstery, and she rolled all the windows down to fight the sickly smell.
She passed a small pond, and an unassuming directional sign.
Slowly, as if she had all the time in the world, Eve edged off the road, and between two trees.
It was a subtle sensation, when it happened. The tear in reality. A mere ripple across the skin, a caress soft enough to be mistaken as a warm gale.
But the change was immediately visible.
The city of Cropis was built along one of the edges - the narrow strips that stretched between dimensions. There were only a handful of them, and they weren’t accessible to humans. Even if some poor soul haplessly drove through, they would soon find themselves stranded by the entrance with no memory of how they’d arrived.
‘Course, Eve wasn’t exactly entirely human.
She kept her hands on the steering wheel only through habit. Eve felt as though she was dissolving, driving without volition, mind spinning in circles hopelessly. And it was familiar to her, after so many passages in between, but fuck it felt wrong, coursing like poison through her veins.
The world grew dark as her car bobbed beneath the weight of the uneven ground. An eerie, mint green glow flashed through the windows, giving her skin a sicklish sheen. It emanated from the magic keeping the city afloat, dozens of islands crowded with spiraling towers and temples without any sense of style or consistency. Stretching into the sky, imposing over all of them, was an arch - the gateway into the mythic lands - and through it, Eve could see perfect blue skies. The air here practically teemed with old magic, stinging at her eyes and pressing heavily across her shoulders.
She parked, somehow. Her breath came in huge, heaving gasps, rattling her ribs with their strength. There wasn’t enough time for this. Dazedly, almost out-of-body, Eve abandoned the car, slipping out of it and onto one of a hundred cobblestone bridges. The box of donuts swung loosely in her grasp while she twisted down, avoiding the searching beam of light from one of the city sentinels.
Cropis always had been a little anal about its security measures.
The guardian took one enormous, shuddering step towards the car, four eyes like headbeams and toes bigger than Eve’s entire body. After decades in the human world, the shape of it was more cow-like than intimidating, and there wouldn’t have been any need to worry if the beast didn’t have an absurdly good sense of smell.
Good thing her car stunk of dessert more than human. Of course, she couldn’t ever be certain that it would be enough.
One fur-coated foot came down atop the hunk of metal, flattening it thoroughly. The screech rang into the distance, bridge filling with the scent of metal and gasoline.
That would do it. Nothing living could have survived that.
For how much the divine relied on humans, they never had liked seeing any traces of their pitiful existence.
Passerbys gawked at the vehicle, looking for its owner, but Eve had already yanked her hoodie up and over her head, melting into the crowd.
This, she thought as she let the city swallow her, is why I don’t get attached to cars anymore.