The Devil and I

Chapter 1: I May Be Evil-Landon Tewers

The air was humid and thick as I ran through the field. My lungs burned, and my legs were weak. Moonlight cut through the clouded sky above as I raced toward Bane's Hollow. It was the night of the full moon, and I didn't know if I could hold out much longer and wait for the next. Cicadas buzzed in the night; their calls obscured any other sounds as I crouched to listen.

The only other thing I heard was my own heart as it drummed in my chest. I was listening for the slap of the screen door, the heavy footfalls of him realizing I left. His voice calling for me, but I heard nothing. Nothing but those cicadas. Glancing back at the house over the long grass, I popped back up and dashed for the trees. Once I was far enough, it wouldn't matter if he found out I was gone.

If the local legend was true, this was the only thing I thought would save me. Kids at school always talked about this place, but they were too scared to go. They had been right to be scared. People had drowned in the deep black water of the lake and their bodies never been found. Some people claimed it was haunted or cursed, but my gran once told me that if you went to Bane's Hollow on a full moon you could make a wish. "It comes at a price," she said. All I had to do was be brave enough to stand in the water and ask.

The trees blocked any light the moon had to offer, only slivers of silver light reached the ground. Thorns pricked my bare feet from the barbed vines that snaked over the ground, but I continued on. I wouldn't stop. I was desperate and afraid, and it was my only option—my last hope. If it was true, it didn't matter if there was a price to be paid, I would do it. My father was a drunk, and my mother was long gone. She had been the only thing that kept me safe from him, until she wasn't. Until she couldn't take anymore. Until she took her own life. I missed her just as much as I hated her for leaving me with him. I couldn't really blame her for what she did, though. At times I felt like I was on the verge of doing the same thing, but I was different than her. I didn't want to die—I wanted him to.

Through the trees ahead, I saw the reflection of the moon on the still water. Like a lake of obsidian surrounded by the forest, it was unmoving and silent. The cicadas had died away and I heard nothing except the snap of twigs and leaves that crunched under my feet. I stood by the edge of the water and waited. Eyes fixed on the moon, I watched for the last bit of cloud to roll past. The moon shone down bright and full over the center of the water, and I slowly stepped forward. Mud squelched between my toes as I eased in. Even in the heat of the summer, the water held a chill to it that seemed unnatural.

Waist deep, I stopped, my hands drifting across the surface at my sides. Water rippled away from me and sent small waves back to the bank. I took a deep breath and said, "I wish my father was dead." My voice sounded broken from the screaming I had done. My body was bruised and sore, but the coolness of the water soothed it.

Under the reflection of the moon, the water rippled. A small bubbling formed against the surface. I stayed still, rooted to the lakebed in fear and anticipation. I didn't know what to expect, because as far as I knew, no one had ever done what I was doing. Not unless it was the people who had vanished here, but I supposed that if my fate was to die here, then it would be better than living there with him, and either way I would be free.

A figure rose from beneath the water, and my heart stopped beating for a moment. Long dark hair cast in slick murky strands over his bare shoulders. His skin looked like it lacked color under the pale light, but his eyes—they glowed orange like a blazing fire was trapped inside them. The corner of his lip twitched up in a twisted grin as he moved closer, head cocked to the side inquisitively. He looked like one of those statues I had seen in textbooks, like he had been crafted and tirelessly sculped to perfection.

"What a wish to make, little one." His voice was deep and velvet, soothing in a way that sent a shiver through me, but I didn't feel frightened of him. My mouth had gone dry as I tried to swallow. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do or say. Gran never said what would happen after you made a wish, maybe she didn't know. Maybe she did.

"It's what I want," I found the courage to say, and held my chin up to him.

Sharp teeth shone as he grinned wider. "There's a price, especially for wishes such as this."

"I'll pay it, whatever it is I'll pay it. Please, just grant my wish," I replied without hesitation. He clicked his tongue as he flowed through the water and made a circle before he came to a stop in front of me.

"Not yet." He paused; his eyes aflame as he stared like he could see my soul. "No, I think I'll wait to collect. Ten years—ten years and I will be back. Deal?"

I nodded my head, my eyes fixed on him and too nervous to move. "Deal."

"Then your wish shall be granted, but we must solidify our deal in blood." He withdrew his hands from the water. They were large and strong and as he flicked his finger out, a sharp claw pushed forth from the tip. He held his hand out palm up and dug it into his flesh and sliced it open. Orange eyes lifted back up to mine, an expectant look on his face. I held my hand out and he took it carefully. My hand looked so small inside his own as he pierced my skin and clasped his hand over it.

"Deal is a deal, little one. Ten years, and I'll be back."

He disappeared before my eyes, like I had imagined it all, but I knew I hadn't. The cut on my palm and smear of blood was proof. I dragged myself from the murky water and started back through the trees. I was in no hurry to be home, and though I had just made my wish, I was still unsure if it had worked. It could have been a trick. Maybe it was all a fantasy that my fractured mind let me have so that I wouldn't give up.

I snuck back through the field and circled to the back of the house. My window was still cracked open just as I had left it. Dad would have killed me if he caught me sneaking out on a school night, but by this hour, he was usually pretty drunk. As I climbed in, the house was silent. No noise from the television that was usually on the sports channel, no clank of beer cans, nothing. The house was never this silent. I cracked the door open and peered down the hall. I was more afraid to walk down it than I had been to walk into Bane's Hollow, but I pushed myself forward to check.

As I reached the end of the hall, I peeked around the corner, my fingers grasped on the edge of the wall. I saw the top of dad's head as he sat in his armchair, but it wasn't rocking as it usually was when he sat there. The lump of fear in my throat was hard to swallow as I tiptoed into the living room and around to the front of his cracked and faded brown leather chair. He sat there frozen, eyes wide as if something had frightened him, but he was unmoving, chest still. Reaching out, I poked his hand that was gripped tightly to the armrest. Cold. He was dead.