9. Evan

9

Evan

I didn’t want to go back and face the entity, and certainly not on my own. Fuck, he scared me more than anything I’d ever faced before. There was something about him, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but I felt it down to my core. He was angry, and somehow it was because of me. He was angry with me.

I had no idea why, just that he’d seen me as something to hate or, more accurately, to destroy.

Cary was snoring on his couch, and I justified sticking around in case he needed more help. I hadn’t intended to stay in his cottage this long, let alone watch him sleep. I thought about returning to The Pink Palace, where I’d stayed after being released from the hospital, although I was quickly going through my limited funds. I had no intention of sleeping in the manor again, and I’d even contemplated leaving my belongings behind because I didn’t even want to venture inside now.

As my mind wandered, my gaze landed back on Cary, who didn’t appear to be having a restful sleep. He genuinely might still need my help, though. His shoulder was scratched like you’d expect to see in a werewolf movie. There hadn’t been quite as much blood, but before we got the poultice on him, the welts were growing in size way too fast for my comfort.

This felt so surreal. I… was I losing my mind? I shook my head. No, no… this was real. I’d seen the ghost. I’d seen the welts down the back of Cary’s shoulder. Hell, I’d felt them when applying the poultice. And I sure as hell hadn’t thrown myself against the boiler. My body ached from it.

Only then did I realize, Cary had saved me. He’d literally put himself between me and evil incarnate. As a result, he’d been wounded. How could I not stay and help the man?

It felt a little awkward being in Cary’s home when he was asleep, though, so I decided to check out the little lake with the swans. It was warmer here than on the top of the hill, almost like the area was protected somehow.

Maybe with all the old-growth forest surrounding it, it was.

I sat on a small bench overlooking the lake and enjoyed the soft touch of the sun that continued to warm me, assuring me that even after the horrible encounter, the world was still a good place. There were still good places around, including this little spot.

The swans must’ve been used to being fed, because the moment they realized I was sitting on the bench, they swam toward me. I would have to remember to bring food for them if I ever came back this way.

During the winters back home, we’d sometimes drive out to the Potomac River on Sundays when we were all a little stir-crazy from being locked inside for too long. The Tundra Swans would often fly in and swim around the marshes not far from our home.

Watching these swans, although much more elegant with their curved necks than the Tundras were, made me homesick. Had I made a mistake with all this? I’d left it all behind, ended the lease on my dad and grandma’s old trailer house.

I’d even left my long-term relationship with… well, no use remembering the asshole. I knew, at the very least, I did right by dumping him. I should’ve done that long ago.

I didn’t know if I’d done right by moving here. I grew up halfway between Richmond, Virginia, and Washington, DC. Where was I now? On the Oregon coast, where I didn’t know a soul and there were so few people, they didn’t even have a Costco nearby. How did broke people go out to eat if they couldn’t go to Costco for a buck-fifty hotdog?

I chuckled at my silly reasoning, which helped lighten my mood a bit. I wasn’t a millionaire, and my people weren’t made to live in fancy-ass manor houses, even if they weren’t haunted by evil ghosts that wanted to kill them.

We considered ourselves lucky to find a nice home in the middle of nowhere and not have to live in an old decrepit shack, which might’ve been our fate if we’d stayed in Oregon. Last I’d heard from my mother, which was ages ago, that was exactly where she’d ended up—some derelict trailer just outside Portland.

The swans swam away now that they’d figured out I had nothing to feed them. The grass had begun to green up, so I assumed they had plenty to eat anyway, although I wondered if maybe Cary fed them.

Remembering him, I rose and turned back toward the cottage. Damn, it was so sweet. Someone had recently painted it. The cheerful yellow walls accented by dark wood suggested what I thought was called Tudor style. I had once dated an architect, and the man spent an entire date pointing out houses and naming the styles.

I only remembered Tudor because I was obsessed with all things Anne Boleyn. Well, not just her, King Henry VIII and all his wives, but Anne especially. Why? I had no idea. Some gay men tended to obsess over Greek gods, or Diva singers. I went more for British royalty.

While I couldn’t wait to get rid of the possessed manor and all the drama associated with it, I wondered about this quaint cottage. I’d have some money in my pocket when the estate sold. If it sold, considering it was haunted by an evil entity that wanted to kill me and maimed others. Not that we’d advertise that in the listing.

I shook my head to rid myself of the thought. This was Cary Beacroft’s home, at least for the rest of the month until his contract ended. He’d warned me not to go into the basement, I’d ignored him, and he’d been injured saving me. I shouldn’t be thinking about forcing him out, especially since I was sure he painted it and, by the looks of things, had kept the place up instead of letting it become as dated as the manor.

To my surprise, Cary stood up when I entered the room. “Mr. Beacroft, are you okay?” I asked.

I’d barely entered the cottage when he turned toward me, and I could immediately tell something was off. His smile was wrong, like it didn’t belong to him. “ You… you filthy worm, you think you can come to my home, to my property. ” Cary was yelling at me now. “ You think you can come here and displace me? I’ll kill you like I should’ve killed him and his pervert— ”

I stood frozen on the spot, watching as Cary seemed to be at war with himself. “ I’ll not have it! ” he roared when he looked over at me again. Then, almost as if he were arguing with someone else, he yelled, “ I won’t let that bitch’s whelp have what’s mine! ”

Cary shook his head and fell back onto the couch. “Cary, a-are you okay?” I asked, not daring to move toward him.

When his eyes met mine, I could tell it was Cary this time and not… whatever that was.

“Did he possess me?” he asked, then looked at his hands. “Did that son of a bitch really possess me?”

I didn’t know how to respond. I was petrified that if I moved, the thing would possess him again and come after me. I was at least a foot shorter than Cary and definitely not as strong. I wanted to be able to bolt out the door if I needed to.

“Shit, I need to get the coven up here now. Evan, can you help me?”

When he looked at me again, he quickly stood and crossed the space between us. I backed up, reaching for the door handle.

“Wait, Evan, it’s me, Cary. The scratches gave him… never mind, it’s me now, he won’t be able to possess me again. Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath. “I should’ve predicted this. How many times did my grandmother pound into my head that being touched by the dead was their way of entering your body.” He signed then, a mixture of frustration and concern evident on his face.

“I-I can’t stay here,” I said as I opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. “I-I’m not safe here. You… he… I-I just can’t.” I bolted, rushing toward the lake even though I had no idea where I was going. Shit, all my belongings were still at the manor, but I’d be damned if I ever stepped foot in any part of that place again. Fuck the state, and fuck its returning things to my family. It would do me no good if this place cost me my life like it had my great-grandmother.

My mind spun as I approached the driveway on the other side of the lake. Crazy , my mind screamed at me. This was insane… but it felt so real… but how… how could it be? In the end, it didn’t matter. Whether Cary was a witch, whether that thing in the basement wanted me dead, whether leaving would’ve disappointed generations of my dead relatives, I needed to get the hell away from here.