Even If

Chapter Three

"A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother." Proverbs 18:24

-

Darren Williams was never afraid.

Not when the doctor had called years before to tell him that his mother had been in a car accident and wasn't expected to make it through the night. Not when he was in high school and he stumbled across two men, one with the obvious intention of killing the other. Not even at the realization that he was probably, more than likely, going to die alone.

His life was dedicated to his work. It was as simple as that. He spent twelve hours a day in a hidden office at a computer with his fingers moving faster than should have been humanly possible only to find the culprit in hidden crimes and lead the good guys to him. It had been a part of him since he was sixteen and he never bored of the activity. It was a majority of who he was. He received amazing benefits. Earned enough money to get by. And because of it, he didn't have to worry about getting a wife, even if it was all that his father wanted of him. The truth was, his ego had gone through the roof. He was the best there was. With the degree to prove it, he made sure that his younger apprentices were certain who their superior was.

It was an early Tuesday morning when Darren pulled into the darkness of the trees. Pines and oaks loomed too far above his head to see. The moon was hidden beneath the thick, blackened clouds that pooled water upon his windshield. He could barely see a thing, despite the frantic dance of his wiper blades across the glass. It wasn't long before his rustic one-bedroom home appeared before him. His black Avalon stuttered to a halt at the end of the long, arched driveway and not for the first time, he took in how utterly lonely the entire place seemed to be. Sat in the middle of the woods on top of a single acre of land, it was private and he could take care of his personal matters without the noses of his neighbors right over his back. Not that he would allow such a thing, but he had his precautions to take for their team.

The lights were off inside. His paranoia nagged at him to grab the sheathed weapon from the seat beside him, but his therapist had told him on multiple occasions that it was common for his fears to make a fool out of him. He was fine; no one could have possibly found him.

The thoughts were still racing at the top of his thoughts as he tossed his keys onto the kitchen table. His graying hair was slicked back with rain water and it slid from his body to flood the flooring at his feet. Great. Just what he needed today.

"Need a hand?"

The voice boomed around him to send a gasp from the poor man. Twenty years in his line of work and this was his first surprise encounter with what they considered as an incubus, a man who in legend would take on the form of men in order to steal the souls of unsuspecting women through the form of intercourse. Blood pounded in his ears in such a manor that he was sure he would be left deaf. The tremble in his fingers was much more prominent than usual.

Darren wondered why the monster would be coming after him. After all, they had a strategy to these things. The men they slaughtered and took over were typically covetable to the purest of women. He was well aware that such a word did not describe his aging form. The bald spot upon his head, the rolls of fat forming at his stomach, his thick, winding scar that started just below his eyebrow and burrowed deeply into the nape of his neck. Even if it had been a top priority for him, he never could have fooled a woman into loving him. Instead of enduring that heartache, he made it a sure task to push them all away.

Especially Charlotte...

"Can I help you?" He managed the words out, miraculously, without a single struggle. A smile snaked upon the monster's face. If one had no knowledge of what was really out there, they would have believed him to be a simple, harmless human. With the hair of a frat boy and the body of a swimmer, the host was overwhelmingly attractive, even for someone as straight as Darren. His smile was straight, teeth perfect, but it was his eyes who had given him away. Gold was all he could see. Black slits, like the pupils of a cat, scarred the elegant irises, their glow seemingly more prominent with the hazy illusion.