Page 107 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

It stood in the middle of the alley like it had been waiting. This one was different.

Taller. Broader. Smiling.

Its skin, unlike the others, didn’t shift as much—it was solid, onyx-black, but its surface was lined with deep, glowing cracks, as if its body was barely containing the raw energy inside. Its eyes were golden like the rest, but these narrowed when they landed on us, filled with something almost…knowing.

Recognition.

It lifted a clawed hand, flexing its fingers slowly, deliberately.

And then—

It lunged.

Chapter 30:Inheritance of Shadows

Now, there we were.

One monster led us (the huge one). The other two followed behind, making sure we didn’t even think about running. Their presence pressed against me like an invisible noose—suffocating and unnatural. I heard the wet, shifting sounds of their ever-morphing flesh, the way their claws scraped lightly against the pavement as they moved.

The alley stank of damp rot, salt, and something else—something sickly sweet, like burnt sugar and decay. A scent I recognized.

Demonic energy—thick and cloying, curling around my senses like smoke.

"Ethan," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "What’s happening?"

His grip on my wrist tightened. He didn’t answer immediately. Ethan—the one who always had something witty, sarcastic, or outright irritating to say—was silent.

Then, his voice came, low and strained. "Remember something you said about running away from something only keeps it chasing you?"

My stomach knotted. I remembered. I told him once that running away from problems never stops them from chasing you. That the only thing one could do was face them.

Ethan exhaled sharply. "Yeah. Well, it's my dad."

I stopped walking.

It was instinctive. My body refused to take another step, my brain still trying to process the weight of those words. But the monsters didn’t stop. The one behind me nudged me forward—no, not a nudge. A warning. Its clawed hand barely grazed my back, and a cold, unnatural chill spread across my spine where it touched.

I swallowed hard and moved.

His father. The one he was ignoring calls from. The one he never wanted to talk about. The one that sent that message in the morning.

We stepped out of the alley, back into the blinding glow of the town lights. The bass from the bar still thrummed in the air, the sound almost mocking now—a reminder of how normal the night seemed only moments ago.

Then, I saw it.

The most expensive convoy I had ever laid eyes on.

It stretched along the curb in a perfect, polished display of wealth and power. Black cars, sleek and armored, their tinted windows gleaming under the neon signs. But it wasn’t the luxury that made my skin crawl.

It was the presence sourcing from them.

Even from here, I could feel it. The raw, suffocating force of something ancient, something powerful, lurking beneath the surface.

And then, my eyes landed on the one car that stood out from the rest.

It was different—not just in price, but in feeling. The energy brimming inside it pulsed like a living thing, pressing against my senses, whispering in a language only demons and those who suffered under them could understand.

That was the car.

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