Page 111 of Pareidolia

The body in my arms doesn’t matter, save for the fact that it tastes like the man who tried to kill him. I drop him to the cool ground of the cave I’d dragged him into, tilting my head to watch him as he falls. There’s still a little life left in him. The human body is an odd thing—the fall should have killed him, but adrenaline and fear are keeping him alive.

I wonder if he’ll still be breathing by the time I get back.

I’m not the type to save or savor a meal. There are far too many humans who wander into the forest for me to think I need to save some mewling, living creature for when things get tough.

And I’m certainly not interested in keeping their bodies around once I’ve had my fill of their emotions. There’s nothing for me once that happens—I don’t eat their flesh.

Humans taste just as bitter as their thoughts usually are.

My head turns back in the direction of the fire tower. I can see it in the distance, a fixture that rises above the trees and marks a place where the forest grows too close to the town for my liking. It’s not that I’m afraid of Duskfen or the people in it, but I prefer to be nothing more than a legend, a scary story to them.

I prefer to be a creature of shadow and myth, not something constantly hunted. Slaughtering the entire town would probably overcomplicate things. Duskfen feels comfortable to me—having a group of humans burning down the forest would spoil that.

But one human… one human in a fire tower who felt like cool rain against my senses won’t upset any balance.

Without another thought, I take to the sky. The truth is, I’d burn the world down for the sake of my own curiosity without thinking twice, balance be damned.

It doesn’t take long to get to the tower from where I’d left the dying man.

My wings fan out behind me as I land silently on the catwalk of the fire tower. I like the shape of the body I’m in. Four arms, enormous wings… and spilling from my flesh are the tendrils of shadow that make up what I truly am. A single candle sits on the window in front of me, and the only other light filling the small cabin comes from a screen. It lets me see the human’s profile. His hair is a pale, nearly white color streaked with blue, and his arms are covered in swirls of ink. There are a few earrings marching up the curve of his right ear…

He’s chewing on his lower lip hard enough that I can smell the tang of copper and iron in the air, his eyes fixated on whatever he’s doing on the computer in front of him.

By human standards, he’d be attractive, all lean muscle and a sharp jawline… but I don’t care about that.

I care about the sensation spilling through the framework of the fire tower and hitting me in the chest, rolling across my body so that I nearly threaten to lose my shape and dissolve into shadows.

Nothing. He’s empty.

A little monster, just like me.

A little monster in my forest, ready to learn that there’s always something out there with bigger teeth.

He’s that cool taste I had eight years ago when I dragged a dying boy into the trees to drown in his fear. Now that I’m this close, it’s beating against my senses and drawing me in—that thing I was craving.

That thing I was longing for.

It’s right here.

He’s right here, and he’s more perfect than I could have imagined. I’d wondered then if it was some strange creature, another supernatural being that had left that clean taste behind.

But… no.

He’s here. He’s human.

And he’s in my forest with the taste of murder still clinging to the air around him, like a gift waiting just for me.

I stalk silently around the open windows of the little cabin, watching him curiously as I slip in and out of the shadows to keep myself hidden. From the way he’s staring at his screen, his pupils slightly dilated from the bright light and his expression distant and far off, I have the feeling I could have walked with the light beneath my skin glowing and he wouldn’t have noticed. Wherever he is, whatever he’s working on, it has his attention far more than the forest around him.

When he leans closer to the screen, I can feel it again—that wave of strange, apathetic excitement that poured across the skin of the man I’d taken earlier. It’s empty, hollow, reaching out to something, like he’s begging the darkness to fill him up and make him whole.

Patience has never been something I’ve possessed, and watching him through the glass isn’t enough.

I’m too curious. The cool sensation of his emotions is making something inside me burn, a hunger I’ve never felt before flare to life so viciously that I throw the door open without trying to be subtle.

The candle on the window ledge flickers and fades, and the screen in front of him goes dark as I let my energy, the shadows that make up what I am, flood through the room.

In the darkness, all I can see is the slightest reflection of his eyes.