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

Epilogue II/II

May // 1998

In that dusty house, with a woman's body on the floor, covered with blood from the stab wounds in her abdomen, Death stared at the man sitting quietly at a table, glancing sideways at the body as he talked on the phone about how to dispose of it. Harry had already taken care of freeing the soul from it, but there was something specific that didn't make him feel any peace, any tranquility that he usually felt after doing his job.

When the Reaper collected the woman's soul, the latter, already dead, turned his panic-stricken gaze to his murderer, then sadly to a corner of the room, and finally in supplication to the curly boy. Finally, the soul ascended, and Harry slowly made his way to the corner of the room. He had learned long ago how to become invisible, so there would be no problem with the worldling in the chair.

His green eyes with a small spot of darkness opened wide when he saw inside the crib, which was very badly assembled, two five-month-old babies in it, naked. Harry could still feel body temperature and wouldn't stop feeling it for a couple of years. It was cold in that room, and he was sure those creatures could get very sick if he didn't hurry.

Was it because of them that the woman had stared at him? Did she expect Harry to save those babies from a lousy, short life? Did she expect him... to kill them faster?

Well, he could do that. Death was no longer something abnormal and tragic from his point of view, so it wouldn't be anything new. He positioned himself better in front of the crib, raised his right hand, and directed it toward both babies, opening his lips to speak in an indecipherable tongue.

However, he stopped.

One of the babies, the one that looked a little bigger, was staring at him. His eyes were dark, and the little hair he had was blond. He just looked at him, and he tilted his head. Unconsciously, Harry did too, with a slight frown, his hand in the air, which began to tremble.

The baby started making little sounds with his mouth, causing little bubbles of his saliva, closing his little eyes. Was he going to fall asleep? Soon, Harry understood. His presence gave him peace, to both of them.

He leaned over the crib more when he noticed that the other baby was barely moving, and touched his little body a little, making sure he was okay. He noticed the cold temperature, and his chest burned. That baby needed food, blankets, and much love from his mother, who had left her body only minutes before.

They both needed her.

Many ideas began to spring up in his mind that he could use, but he was absolutely certain that he couldn't kill them.

And he couldn't understand why.

Lou... come, please. I can't decide this alone.

He quickly stepped away from the crib, taking steps backwards while keeping his head occupied, not really knowing what to choose. One of the babies began to sob. The man struck the table with his fist, pushing the phone away from the right side of his face.

—Shut the fuck up! Or I'm going to leave you like your mother!

The baby's crying increased because of the abrupt response, and Harry watched the killer hang up the phone to stand up abruptly from the seat. The presence of the Devil emerged unexpectedly, and in the blink of an eye, he was standing in front of the woman's body, blocking the way of the worldly.

Louis only had to analyze the situation to raise his hand and bend his fingers, as if forming a claw, with his palm upwards. He turned it sharply to the side, and the man's bones began to break, one by one. The screams echoed until his neck snapped and he was left motionless on the ground, lifeless.