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

V. "Heart Attack"

His eyes remained open, but he couldn't move his body, nor speak either. It felt like being asleep, but with the mind alert to whatever was happening.

The very tall figure, covered by a huge black cape, to the point where even its face wasn't visible, was in a corner of his room. He knew immediately that it was the same figure he had seen in the accident on the road to the church. It was standing there, but Harry knew that even without seeing its face, it was watching him.

The despair he was trying to contain, little by little, seemed to want to fade away, but he felt the fear spreading through his chest as the figure advanced at a rapid pace to the left side of the bed, leaning to the side of his left ear. The breath of that "thing" was heavy, unpleasant, but when it whispered in his ear it was much worse. It had a quiet voice, but it was deep and threatening. He understood absolutely nothing of what it was saying because it was speaking in another language.

Harry felt a lot of shivering, the need to take a deep breath, but he felt like a dead weight was on his abdomen, obstructing his breathing. His eyes were beginning to fill with tears but, before he even tried to scream at the top of his lungs, in the blink of an eye, he managed to take control of his body.

He took a deep breath, sat down, and looked around him paranoidly: there was absolutely no one there, only complete darkness and a feeling of unease, which indicated to him that the Devil was present. He could breathe, he could move, and nothing would harm him. He sighed half-heartedly before lying down again slowly, trying not to break into tears and looking slowly at the King of the Underworld, who was with his back against the back of the bed.

—You had a sleep paralysis, —he said to the worldling, staring at him, expressionless.

Harry didn't understand if it was because he was asleep or unprotected, but shyly and covertly he huddled against the torso of the King of the Underworld, still looking around. Silence remained until he was able to regulate the accelerated beats of his heart, with paranoia decreasing at the warmth of the opposite skin, even over his clothes.

—Can anyone be spared from going to hell? —He asked in an almost inaudible tone, fearing an answer he would most likely receive.

—No, and that's why people don't make deals with me very often, —Louis answered, bringing one of his arms behind the teenager's shoulders. That relaxed him even more. —You surprised me.

—I did?

—You amazed me. I've never seen anyone so pure look so damn good doing an invocation ritual.

Harry's cheeks burned fiercely, remembering the conditions he had been in when he decided to stay underwater. It still felt strange to him, he would have never believed that he would dare to perform such a madness.

He also remembered when Louis confirmed that he had been the one who drowned him with his weight. However, it was dark, and the Devil couldn't see in the dark...

Could he?

Did he watch him all the time? He assumed that he did since he always felt that protection, that discomfort, that... pleasant but strange heat. Luckily for Harry, he couldn't look him in the eye, because if he did, after knowing that both of them had been much closer than usual, or that there was a small chance that Louis was present while he was taking a bath, he would die of shame before he could even take his soul.

—Have you taken the soul of someone important? —He dared to ask, curious.

Louis nodded slowly at his favorite child's question. —I have taken the souls of many important people, it has been five years since I did.