The house was quiet. Almost too quiet. The kind of quiet that swallowed sounds whole, leaving only the faint creak of old wood and the distant hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

It wasn’t like the squat where Vivi and I had been staying—the smells of damp and mildew replaced here with lavender polish and faint traces of cooked spices. Even in the dim light of the entryway, the place felt... lived in. Warm.

Alin was anything but quiet.

“C’mon,” he said, tugging me by the hem of my shirt, his grin wide and wolfish as he led me toward the living room. “Make yourself at home.”

“You always bring strangers home?” I asked, quirking a brow as he pulled me onto the couch.

“Only the interesting ones,” he replied, his voice low as he leaned in to kiss me.

The words would’ve made me roll my eyes if I wasn’t already distracted. His hands slid under my jacket, tugging it off my shoulders as his lips pressed against mine. He kissed like he didn’t care who saw—messy and hungry, his teeth grazing my lower lip as he pulled me closer.

His touch was warm, his breath hot against my skin as his hands slipped beneath my shirt. I didn’t stop him, letting his fingers trace the edges of my tattoos, his curiosity obvious in the way his touch lingered on the raised lines of the runes.

“Off,” he muttered, tugging at the hem of my shirt.

I smirked, letting him pull it over my head, his eyes widening slightly as the tattoos on my tits flared faintly in response to the brush of his fingers.

“These are incredible,” he said, his voice breaking into a gasp as I leaned in, my lips trailing down the side of his neck.

“They’re not important,” I murmured against his skin, silencing him with a kiss as my hands moved to the waistband of his pants.

We tumbled further into the couch, the cushions sinking beneath us as the heat between us grew, our movements quick and impatient. His shirt joined mine on the floor, his golden skin glowing faintly in the dim light as I pressed my hands to his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath my palms.

“You’re trouble,” he muttered, his voice a mix of amusement and heat as he shifted beneath me.

I smirked, leaning down to kiss him again, my lips tracing the sharp line of his jaw as my hands slid lower. “You knew that before you convinced me to come over since you're home alone.”

He didn’t deny it, his breath hitching as I finally pulled his pants down, my nails scraping faintly against his thighs.

We didn’t stop. Not as his voice cracked into soft moans, not as my mouth found its way lower, lower, lower, not as his hands tangled in my hair, tugging just enough to make me hum against him.

“Raku,” he breathed, my name slipping from his lips like a sigh.

It was only when his body tensed, his voice breaking into a desperate groan as he finished on my tongue, that I heard it.

A step, somewhere behind me.

My body went rigid, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end as the soft, deliberate creak of wood broke the thick haze of heat between us. We were supposed to be alone. Years of living on the streets of a city that hated my very existence teaches you these things.

Alin didn’t notice at first, his head tipped back against the cushions, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. But I was already pulling away, my eyes snapping toward the doorway as the faint sound of footsteps reached my ears.

Slow. Steady. Deadly.

And then I saw her.

She wasn’t the human I'd guessed at. Not even close.

Her frame stretched impossibly tall, her thin limbs angular and unnaturally long as she stepped into the room with a grace that felt too fluid, too precise. Her pale skin gleamed faintly in the dim light, its texture smooth and almost waxy, and the sharp points of her ears seemed to slice through the shadows just like they did through her gold and silver hair.

But it was her eyes that stopped me cold.

They were pitch black. Endless.

They mirrored mine.

For a moment, I thought I was staring into a warped reflection of myself, my own black eyes magnified and distorted into something grotesque. Hers were far too large for her face, catching the faint light like the glossy surface of obsidian. They didn’t blink, didn’t waver, just locked onto me with an intensity that made my stomach churn.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Grandmother?!” Alin’s voice cracked, the word bursting from him like a lifeline as he scrambled upright, yanking the couch blanket over himself in a frantic attempt to cover up.

Her gaze didn’t move, her attention fixed on me with a stillness that was almost predatory.

“You brought someone here,” she said, her voice low and far too smooth, each word dropping into the silence like stones into deep water.

Alin flinched, his face flushing crimson as he tried to stammer out a reply. “I—I didn’t think—”

“I don’t care what you thought,” she interrupted, her tone sharp and cutting. “Go to your room.”

“Grandmother, I—”

“Now.”

The word fell like a hammer, final and absolute.

Alin’s gaze darted to me, his expression a mix of guilt and panic, but he didn’t argue. He grabbed his jeans, clutching the blanket around his shoulders as he bolted toward the hallway, his footsteps quick and uneven.

That left me alone with her. If I had anything to put in a will I probably would've started writing.

Her gaze bore into me, those pitch-black eyes far too much like my own.

I swallowed hard, my hands clutching at the edge of the couch as my pulse thundered in my ears.

“You don’t seem the type to run,” she said, tilting her head in a way that made her long limbs seem even more alien. “That’s good. It saves time.”

----------------------------------------

The silence in the room stretched, thick and suffocating, as the voids of her eyes bore into mine. I felt like a moth pinned under glass, every instinct in me screaming to run, to move, to do something, but I couldn’t.

“You’re staring,” I said finally, my voice cracking just enough to betray me.

Her lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. “You’re unusual,” she said, her voice smooth and unhurried, like she had all the time in the world to dissect me. “I don’t encounter many like you.”

I swallowed hard, my hands tightening around the edge of the couch. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She tilted her head slightly, her long limbs shifting in a way that made my skin crawl. “You’ll find out. Sit.”

It wasn’t a suggestion.

I rose slowly, my legs stiff as I moved to the small table near the window where she was already arranging a teapot and two cups. The delicate clink of porcelain against porcelain filled the silence, the faint scent of chamomile drifting into the air.

“You carry yourself well for someone so young,” she said as she poured, her hands steady and precise. “You’ve seen hardship.”

I snorted, the sound sharp and bitter as I crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s one way to put it.”

It wasn’t until her gaze slowly travelled down, then back up, that I realized exactly how I was sitting.

“Your shirt,” she said dryly, one pale brow arching ever so slightly. “Unless you think having your chest out will give you the upper hand in this conversation, I suggest you fix it.”

Heat rushed to my face as I scrambled to grab my discarded shirt from the couch. “Right. Yeah. Totally forgot about that.”

Her expression didn’t change, but the faintest shimmer of amusement crossed her inky eyes. “I assure you, modesty will make no difference here.”

I tugged the shirt over my head, my tattoos sparking faintly as the fabric brushed against them. “Noted,” I muttered, sinking into the chair across from her.

She slid a cup toward me, the tea’s faint steam curling between us. “Drink,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

I hesitated but lifted the cup, the warmth seeping into my hands as I took a cautious sip. This is where I die.

Her gaze didn’t waver. “What’s your name?”

“Raku,” I said, my voice quieter now.

“Raku,” she repeated, her tone flat but thoughtful. “Interesting.”

I frowned. “What’s interesting about it?”

She didn’t answer immediately, instead setting her cup down with a deliberate slowness that made the silence feel unbearable. “It’s not your name that interests me,” she said finally. “It’s what you are.”

My breath hitched. “What I am?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, the faintest glint of something unreadable flashing in the dark. “You’re not human,” she said. “Not entirely.”

The words hit like a slap, my pulse roaring in my ears as my grip on the teacup tightened.

“Gargoyle,” she continued, “Devil. And human. A rare combination. You'll have to tell me about how that came about some day.”

I didn’t respond, my throat tightening as my chest ached with a hollow, familiar weight.

“And you carry magic,” she added, her gaze flicking briefly to the faint glow of my tattoos. “Not your own, I assume. Borrowed from your devil ancestor, perhaps?”

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to steady. “I didn’t ask for it. Can't even use it without the runes on my body.”

“No,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “But it’s there all the same.”

Her words hung between us, heavy and unrelenting, as I fought the urge to shrink under her gaze.

“What do you want from me?” I asked finally, my voice hoarse.

She leaned back slightly, her long fingers curling around her teacup. “I want you to come to Crimson Reverie,” she said simply. “Bring whoever's magic you reek of, too. You’ll find it worth your while.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Crimson Reverie? The merc company?”

She nodded once, her movements slow and deliberate. “We have... an interest in individuals with your unique talents.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said quickly, the words rushing out before I could stop them.

Her gaze sharpened, cutting through my protest like a blade. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she said. “Gargoyle strength. Devil cunning. Human adaptability. You’re wasted on the streets.”

Her words stung more than I wanted to admit.

“What makes you think I’d even want to join?” I asked, my voice sharper now, more defensive.

Her lips curled faintly, the closest thing to a smile I’d seen yet. “Because you don’t have many other options,” she said simply. “And because I’m giving you one.”

The room felt unbearably small, her presence overwhelming as she leaned forward slightly, her dark eyes boring into mine. “Come to headquarters on Monday,” she said. “I’ll see to it you’re evaluated.”

My fingers trembled slightly against the teacup as her words sank in.

“And bring your friend,” she added, her voice softer now. “Vivi, is it? I imagine they’ll be just as... interesting.”

Can she see my thoughts?

I couldn’t help the faint flicker of a laugh that escaped me, bitter and humorless. “You really don’t give me a choice, do you?”

Her eyes glinted faintly in the dim light. “You always have a choice,” she said, her tone calm but unyielding. “But I suggest you make the right one.”