15:02

The call concluded abruptly, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Michael took a step back, observing Detective Ilmar's unexpected display of vulnerability. The sight of a grown man shedding tears struck an unusual chord, especially considering the detective's initial impression of stoicism, calculation, and grounded composure.

Michael's eyes constantly flitted toward his mother, a light sleeper whose distress was evident through the intermittent wails that filled the air. He couldn't help but wonder what David had done to provoke such a reaction from her. Meanwhile, David remained silent, navigating the complex dynamics of a world that Detective Ilmar, despite his involvement, still seemed alien to.

Realizing the intrusion he had made into this unfamiliar realm, Michael took it upon himself to pick up Detective Ilmar's gun. With practiced precision, he disassembled it, removing the magazine and cartridge from the chamber before expertly reassembling it. He extended the firearm, offering to the detective.

Detective Ilmar abruptly lifted his head from the floor, rejecting the offered items with a vehement denial. "No! They're not dead! They wouldn't kill them; they need me to bring Michael! Aisha was under duress! Nura was hurt, and her faith naturally wavered…"

'My faith is with God, my love is with my husband! Be content with that, takhdae fi alhubi!'

Her gentle voice echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of her unwavering commitment to her beliefs. Never had he succeeded in convincing her to prioritize him over those convictions, not even for the sake of their daughter.

'Why now?' he questioned himself, desperately searching for a rationale. However, his gut instinct insisted there was none; the kidnappers had somehow replicated her voice. The confirmation from the short man only reinforced this suspicion.

Abandoning his gun, he urgently activated the location app on his cellphone. "They're fine! I'll go find them now… they're fine!"

His grip on sanity had long since slipped away. What spoke now was sheer desperation. Michael couldn't help but draw parallels to scenes from movies, though he refrained from voicing this observation as David thrust the gun and magazine toward the detective, silently urging him to take them.

"Two locations? Aisha's phone is in motion. Nura always keeps hers on her person… it's close to our home! Are they separated?!" Detective Ilmar, treating Michael and David as if they were invisible, accepted the gun and magazine. With an air of urgency, he swung the door open and dashed out, driven by a singular purpose.

"We can't offer assistance; he's not in a state to heed advice," David responded to Michael's confusion. "He's a man of action, anyone in law enforcement, search and rescue is. The Lycander Clan members are in motion. They erred, losing him as a pawn. Once he… reunites with his wife and daughter, they won't bother returning to eliminate him."

Despite his brevity, Michael sensed a condescending tone in David's words, a silent reprimand withholding crucial sentiments that needed expression.

"They perished because of me," Michael confessed, harboring no doubts after witnessing Detective Ilmar's emotional collapse, a direct consequence of his own actions.

"More lives than you realize have already been lost, and more will follow. These are the immediate consequences of dealing with Demonic Entities. I warned you – you have forty-eight hours until this ordeal concludes, at least for the near future. Right now, your focus must be on safeguarding those you can, while I exert every effort to shield you. This means we halt the questions and turn your home into our stronghold for the night. You have until sundown to determine whether to send your family away or disclose the truth and persuade them to stay."

Michael grappled with the weight of deciding not just for himself but for his family as well. He had already experienced the repercussions of his choices, and the gravity of those outcomes lingered in his mind.

"As long as they remain within a hundred kilometers of you, they're at risk, and it's already too late for them to leave. The pursuers seeking your bounty will swiftly uncover your identity, utilizing methods beyond the reach of ordinary individuals. They'll exploit anyone close to you as bait to lure you out. Even if you consider surrendering yourself, the safety of those in your proximity won't be assured. That's my perspective. I won't make the final decision for you, as it's a difficult one – the first of many in your new life. Right now, literal monsters are closing in on you. With the revolver I provided, you have a fragile shield to endure until the breach in the Demonic Contract is rectified and your bounty becomes obsolete."

"I'll…" Michael glanced at his mother and tapped the screen of his cellphone to illuminate it. "Protect my family."

"Then hurry and acquaint yourself with the sensation of infusing the revolver with your Magick. It will help absorb the impact and enhance your chances of survival."

…

15:05

The door screeched in protest as he swung it open, and the pungent odor of death assaulted his nostrils. He absorbed the grim atmosphere and exhaled with a sigh.

"First," he addressed the elderly gentleman, reaching into his saddlebag to retrieve a bottle containing gray powder. Removing the stopper, he sprinkled a handful of the powder over the old man with the twisted neck. Nothing appeared to change outwardly, but he sensed a transformation had occurred. He witnessed it.

Advancing to the heartless teenage girl, he settled in front of her. Pondering his words carefully, he crossed his fingers and began to speak.

"They engage in this brutality to transcend the inherent weakness of their nature. It's a necessity for their species; otherwise, they would stagnate. Their women are born leaders, possessing shrewdness and ruthlessness. The men, in turn, are born soldiers, their obedience nurtured through loyalty and affection toward the Alpha. She took your heart, consumed it, to fortify hers. It is a crucial step in laying the groundwork for the Second Metamorphosis and the potential inheritance of the Lord's position. A Lord must care. By merging your heart with hers, you will coexist within her. During her Second Metamorphosis, you'll have a solitary opportunity to strike back."

He delved into his saddlebag, retrieving two bottles – one containing the familiar black powder and the other a mysterious blue substance.

"I've been entrusted with presenting you a choice. The black powder offers your soul the peace it ardently craves. The blue powder, on the other hand, forges a link between your body and the act of murder. During the wolf girl's Second Metamorphosis, your soul could traverse this bridge, delivering a blow far more devastating than mere heartache. In return for the blue powder, I seek your brain and final memories. Rest assured, your hatred won't be forgotten. What is your decision?"

A radiant green consumed his eyes, granting him complete perception – sight, hearing, and sensation of her presence. Violent deaths yield souls teetering on the brink of becoming Abhorrent Spirits. A weary, malnourished, almost bald iteration of the living self emerges, with sunken, manic eyes, a proclivity for lashing out, and a piercing howl as their sole means of communication.

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She lashed her bony arms at him, the lengthening nails signaling the onset of her transformation into an Abhorrent Spirit. She fought the urge to make contact. His eyes, aglow with a sparkling green, both terrified and comforted her. His gaze offered solace she resisted, deeming it incongruent with the entity she was becoming.

"Make your choice, or would you prefer a few minutes to contemplate, perhaps until I conclude with your mother?"

"M-O-T-H-E-R?!"

Ignoring her, he proceeded to the kitchen, settling in front of the headless woman.

"I began with your daughter, giving her time to consider. Teenage girls can be quite indecisive. You've heard my offer – essentially, it's about revenge. He consumed your head to acquire your brain. Their males are warriors, brave and honorable in their own way. Yet, to become strategists, to grasp the initiative their Alphas lack, they must teach their brains to think independently. He took yours to refine his. Choosing the blue powder won't connect you and your daughter on the same bridge. However, on that bridge, you'll delay the transformation into an Abhorrent Spirit. You and your daughter will be able to sense each other. When the time arrives, after seeking your vengeance, you can find peace. All I ask from you is the heart he left, with its last emotions."

The mother's soul appeared more composed, resembling what her body might have looked like with its head intact. Her hand hesitated between the two bottles.

"I offer you peace either way," he reassured her.

Her hand pivoted, pointing to the blue bottle, the first elongated sharp fingernail indicating her choice.

"Thank you," he acknowledged.

Moving forward, he sprinkled the powder on her body. In his enhanced green vision, a translucent blue tunnel materialized, extending from the ceiling all the way to the oblivious wolf man.

"Go on," he gestured, encouraging her soul to leave the body and ascend the bridge.

She stood, poised to ascend.

"'Aisha', remember it."

She nodded, her gaze piercing through the kitchen wall.

He followed her line of sight. "Seems she's convinced. Soon, you'll be able to sense and communicate. One day, reunite."

His focus shifted to the headless corpse. Extracting a case from the saddlebag containing surgical tools, he chose a scalpel. Methodically, he disrobed the lifeless body and made a precise incision in the chest – a lengthy cut dyed in green. Safely returning the scalpel to its case and stowing the case back in the saddlebag, he swapped it for a sizable jar filled with a bubbly, thick, dark-red liquid. Plunging his right hand through the incision, he took a moment before withdrawing it, presenting the heart – perfectly intact and pulsating vigorously.

"One down."

Returning to the heartless figure, he inquired, "Have you made your decision?" She, somewhat restrained, presumably influenced by the presence of her mother's soul, nodded. Applying the blue powder, as she ascended the bridge, he glimpsed the girl she once was.

"'Nura', remember your name," he sent her off and proceeded to slice her skull, extracting her brain and placing it in the same jar as the heart. Both organs fizzed in the dark-red liquid as he sealed the lid. Shaking the jar, its contents darkened until nothing but gooey black liquid remained inside.

"Two down. One remains."

It wasn't the old man with the twisted neck, as he departed with a step into The Gray and not another word.

…

15:06

Her heart thumped.

His head throbbed.

They both ceased simultaneously, exited The Gray, and glanced back, wearing frowns.

"Someone tampered with the bodies," she couldn't be certain, but the slightest inkling from her instincts was enough to convince her. "We'll find and eliminate them."

He grunted. "We should call the detective. Now, rather than wait four minutes…"

"Already dialing… but he's not answering."

"Should we go back? If he located their position, he won't cooperate when he sees them."

She shook her head. "He's not responding because we messed up. Forget about him. Just focus on tracing the scent you left on him. We might come across him and others who crossed the path. If the detective left the bounty or took it with him to their location…"

"The scent will guide us," he concluded, and together they retreated into The Gray.

…

15:21

Peter and Dan practically burst into their home simultaneously.

"Mom!"

"Mary!"

They had hurried back home after a brief and tense call from Michael, who informed them that a stranger had forced his way into the apartment, knocked out "Mom/Mary", and left after a confrontation.

The two discovered Michael in the living room, sitting beside an unconscious Mary, with a glass of water on the table, anticipating her awakening.

"Everything is fine. Mom is okay," Michael reassured them, standing up and raising his hands to calm them down.

Seeing Mary on the sofa, vulnerable and possibly injured, the two couldn't absorb his words and charged past him.

"I need you to listen to me. Time is of the essence!" Michael blocked their path, placing a hand on each of their chests and applying gentle pressure. Peter and Dan felt as though they were pushing against an immovable wall. With bewildered expressions, they stared at Michael, the shortest and leanest of the three men.

"Honey? Michael? Dan?" Mary stirred on the sofa, disturbed by the commotion, and immediately reached for the water. David had informed Michael that some noise would be enough, and she might be thirsty afterward. All three turned their attention to her as Peter and Dan managed to bypass Michael.

'I must protect them!' Michael felt a surge of fear, not only for what he had gathered them for but also for the impending threat. It was fear of those who were approaching, fear of what they might do to his family, to him, and to others, as David had nearly promised.

Composing himself, Michael closed and locked the door. 'Would it even matter…?"

"Dad, Mom, Dan…" All heads turned towards Michael, Peter and Dan still visibly anxious for Mary, their wife and mother, respectively. Mary, however, wore a look of confusion.

"Is an ambulance on its way?" Peter inquired, his concern etched on his face.

"Mom, take it slow," Dan urged, offering his support despite her insistence that she was feeling fine.

"Mom is fine. She doesn't need your help, Dan. Everyone... I need you to listen to me. I…" In any other situation, Michael would have relished the amazement his family would experience at the revelation of his superpowers. However, the fact that this revelation came with imminent danger to their lives made it difficult to broach. "I asked you and Dad to come because I have something pressing to confess."

His tone and expression were unmistakable signs of distress, triggering the parental instincts of Peter and Mary, who began imagining all sorts of troubles Michael could have gotten himself into.

"Did you have an accident?!"

"Did you borrow money from the wrong people?!"

"Did you commit a crime?!"

"What's going on?!"

Michael found the barrage of questions reasonable from his parents' perspective, except for the fact that... 'They aren't concerned about me getting a girl pregnant…"

"Michael, did you have a gun?" Mary remembered, her voice tinged with worry.

'Can't escape it...' Michael retrieved the revolver from behind his back, where he had hastily tucked it into his pants when Peter and Dan entered. Peter's gaze shifted several times between his son and the revolver, gears spinning in his head. "Who was the one who attacked your mother, Michael?!"

"It was a police detective," Michael admitted. 'Don't delay it. Just say what you've got to say!' He placed the revolver on the dining table, just outside the kitchen and before the living room. "Please don't interrupt me anymore. I'll explain everything if you'd give me the chance."

He circled the living room table, standing opposite his father, mother, and little brother, and picked up an empty glass.

"A few days ago, I made a deal with… a Demon."

"You what?! Really? You think this is funny?!" Dan snapped. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on him. Someone had attacked their mother because of Michael. Their father had to skip work, and Dan had to cancel a gig, taking a hit to his reputation just hours before the performance. Not to mention, many of his online followers had purchased tickets and were set to arrive for the first meet and greet with him.

"I know how it sounds. I'm dead serious. I'm sorry. Truly sorry!" Michael clenched the glass in his hand. "I never intended for anyone to get hurt. I thought I'd be the only one affected... The Demon deceived me. It granted my wish, but now It wants it back desperately," he summarized the information David had given him after Detective Ilmar departed. "There's a flaw in our contract that can be exploited at any time, which is typical in Demonic Contracts and remains active for roughly half the duration of the contract. Four days after making the deal, the demon used the loophole to put a bounty on my head until the early hours of Sunday-"

"Michael!" Peter slammed his hand on the table. "Don't you think we've indulged in your nonsense long enough? See what happens when you isolate yourself every day?! You work the bare minimum, shut yourself in, reading, playing games, stuck on the computer! Come here this instant!" He stood up after exploding at his third child for the first time ever. Assisting his wife to her feet, he reached to grab Michael. "We're going to the hospital to check on your mother and figure out what drugs you're on!"

"I'm not on any drugs!" The sting from hearing what he had always believed was hidden in his father's heart filled Michael with shame. 'But... I'm not that person anymore!' He clenched, shattering the glass in his hand, halting his father, mother, and even the resentful Dan. "I'm not lying."

He opened his palm. There wasn't a scratch on his skin. And the pieces that didn't fall to the floor... floated above.