"Dancing with the Devil." | Larry Stylinson. TRANSLATION

III. "Evil Personified"

Harry's breathing increased as did his heart rate, and even though he felt like he was dead, he could swear that if he didn't die right there it was by pure chance.

Something stroked his neck, and then something held his hips, holding him in place. He wouldn't move anyway. He looked down and, despite being frozen with fear, could process that what was holding his hips were hands full of strange gold rings. Men's hands, human hands...

Was that thing behind him human? He felt a breath near his right ear, causing his skin to bristle completely and forcing him to close his eyes tightly.

—I couldn't wait for you to get that little shit off your neck. —It was a normal voice, even very soft, low. There was nothing evil, but there was something about it that made him shiver.

Perhaps it was the quietness or the deafening silence that formed when it was present, except for the ringing in his left ear.

Harry's breath was cut off as he fell into reality: He was going to die... he really was.

—Ready? —He tried to swallow, but could barely get air down his throat.

That thing was going to turn him, and he was going to be scared because nothing good could be expected from the Devil. Nothing nice, nothing angelic. Just disturbing and horrifying.

He continued with his eyes tightly closed as soon as the hands on his hips exerted a soft pressure, turning him over until he was in front of the creature. Only his breathing was heard, and the footsteps on the floor above.

He had to open his eyes and face it. It was already too late.

Slowly he did, and the breath got stuck in his throat, admiring the evil personified in front of his tiny body. He did not look like that red, horned creature with a long tail, which he had visualized in his mind. Nor was there a frightening, hellish face, or that thing he had seen on the road, on the way to the church.

There was definitely something, but nothing horrific... it was just a human.

The most precious human/demon he had ever seen.

Tanned complexion, tall and slender figure. His hair was short, straight, and dark. Her lips were thin, reddish, with a short nose, marked jaw, arched eyebrows, and, blessed God, his eyes; as heavenly as the sky, appearing in them a beautiful home of angels. But a quarter of the color was of a burgundy, in which -most probably- thousands of souls took refuge. His pupils were dilated, but they were the most beautiful eyes that Harry ever admired.

However, he couldn't do it for long, because when his eyes met, the beeping in his left ear increased, to the point where he thought his head would explode.

Okay, it was scary. He could clearly feel the discomfort of being at a close distance, and his expression gave him chills. He looked down at the man's clothing: he was wearing a long-sleeved, black, buttoned-up T-shirt. A pair of ordinary pants, also black, and very shiny shoes. They looked new and, obviously, the same color as all his clothes. The gold rings on each of his fingers gave him confusing memories, which he didn't know if they were his own. He had seen someone like that, with lots of jewelry, but he didn't remember how, or where.

Nor did he want to.

The man tilted his head a little, raising it slightly higher. Harry wasn't entirely sure if he was struck by fear or by the beauty of whatever was in front of him.

—How is it that a little boy like you has invoked someone like me? —He nodded slowly. —It must be important.

Harry continued to say nothing, with his lips half-open, still trying to breathe properly.