Page 24 of Eternal Devotion

“Name’s Mordecai. He moved here from the UK. Bought the old Branson place.”

“No shit. The haunted house?”

“It’s in a serious state of disrepair, but it’s not haunted.”

“Oh yes it is.”

I decided that whatever happened in the bathroom five days ago was a figment of my imagination. Nerves. Nothing more.

A knock sounded, and Poet and Ziggy came in, the former dressed like he’d come straight from the office job—he likely had—and the latter wearing fitted trousers and a Henley under an open jacket, suggesting he’d not changed after work either.

Ziggy taught seventh grade at the local elementary school, and his love for gaming and anything superhero-related made him an automatic favorite teacher with the boys. His good looks and dimpled smile earned him far too much unwanted attention from his female students.

Poet carried a hefty tote stuffed with gaming supplies and dungeon manuals. Without preamble, he aimed for the coffee table to set up. Poet was the official Dungeon Master and the serious one in our group. A classic nerd through and through. Meticulously organized and rigid about rules and order, he ran DnD night like a military operation.

During the day, Poet worked as a statistician of some kind or other. I had no idea what it entailed outside of collecting and analyzing data. Poet was brilliantly smart, if not socially awkward. The only time he came out of his shell was when he gamed. He embraced the fantasy world so passionately, he became someone else. Vibrant and dramatic, he acted his role without shame or embarrassment.

Ziggy aimed for the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Poet, you want a beer?”

“Water’s fine.”

Poet rarely drank alcohol, claiming he didn’t like losing control of his faculties. His brain was his greatest asset, and booze hindered the thinking machine. His words, not mine.

Mars handed Ziggy a beer while I collected plates for pizza.

“The one with lactose-free cheese is marked,” Mars called to Poet.

“Thank you.”

“Is your friend coming?” Ziggy asked as he poured filtered water from the fridge into a glass.

“Supposed to be.” I checked the time. It was ten after six.

We hadn’t texted or communicated since parting ways Monday night, so I assumed he was still coming. I aimed for the window and peered along the street in both directions, looking for an approaching taxi since I knew Mordecai didn’t own a vehicle.

Not seeing one, I was about to retreat when movement across the street caught my eye. A figure stood at the mouth of an alley. Not any figure, but Mordecai. The setting sun cast long shadows and left deep pools of shade along the pavement. Coupled with the gunmetal grey clouds and the dreary autumn weather, the man, dressed in black from head to toe, blended with the coming night.

What was he doing?

I motioned for him to come up, but he must not have seen me.

The guys had gathered around the coffee table with heaping plates of pizza. Poet was still organizing the game.

“I’ll be back. I’m going to wait downstairs, so he knows where to go.”

“Ten minutes, and we’re starting without you,” Mars said with his mouth full.

6

Mordecai

I left the mansion at dusk as my powers slowly awoke. Protected somewhat by the heavy, low-hanging clouds, I managed to raise a dense fog, blanketing the landscape outside the city so I could move with ease to my destination. I melted into shadows along the street and swept unseen beyond the prying eyes of pedestrians. I eavesdropped on their conversations, attuned to key words and suspicious context, in case I overheard anything about hunters or Iulian.

At Ensley’s building, I found a quiet place out of sight to observe and determine my approach. To analyze my predicament. One of his friends arrived, a handsome man with red hair, carrying a load of pizza boxes, drinks, and chips so high it was a wonder he managed to open the door without spilling anything.

I caught flashes of them interacting in an upstairs window, taxed my ears to listen to their banter, and suffered an unexpected twinge of envy at their obvious camaraderie.

I had a purpose in Owen Sound, and it wasn’t meant to involve the charismatic Ensley Elowen. Yet, I’d been unable to turn down his offer. Something about the mortal called to me. He awoke a long-repressed yearning for connection and companionship. One that was never satisfied by fleeting and forgettable encounters. I knew better than to tease myself with impossible things, but Ensley’s vibrancy and spark of life were hard to ignore.