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How the hell did he vanish so quickly?
“I bet he just comes to watch us fuck,” Nok suggests on a whisper. “I don’t want to turn my back to the trees now. I feel like we’re being watched.”
“How often does he watch us to know when we’re coming out here is what I want to know?” I sigh and lower my spear a fraction. We kick the ground around where the man was standing. “No footprints. Who the hell is this prick?” I cup a hand to my face. “You fucking scaredy-cat pussy. Run while you still can, asshole.”
We look around, listening to the wind in the leaves, the running stream, the cries of animals in the distance. I don’t pick up a footstep or a cough, or anything for that matter. Nothing remotely human.
“We should probably stop coming out here for a while.” Nok takes hold of my bicep and guides me back to our things. I constantly look over my shoulder and so does he. “Does he still remind you of your dad?”
I shake my head. “Not even a little bit.”
“Good.” He kicks a rock across the ground. “Now we can’t have tree sex.”
“That’s okay. I’ll give you a blowy in the bathroom after dinner.”
Hooking his arm around my shoulder he admits, “And this is why I would be stupid not to love you.”
“I feel very privileged for a white chick.”
“As you should.”
We head to his house, mindful of our surroundings and lock the door to his house behind us. Nok’s dad greets us and kisses both of my cheeks. He tells me how good it is to see me, and I return the sentiment. But then he and Nok discuss the man that Nok admits he thought was a figment of his imagination and to say the mood darkens would be an understatement.
“A flash of a tooth you said?” he asks me, frowning with thought.
I nod. “Like the light hit the point just right. He was far away but not so far that I couldn’t see it.”
Nok snorts so I punch him in the arm.
“Don’t ridicule your friends, son,” Dasan chastises. “They’ll stop confiding in you.”
“Oh heaven forbid she never tells me about pointy-toothed, disappearing men again,” he responds with a heavy amount of sarcasm.
I punch him again and his dad chuckles.
Then I ask, “You were going to tell us something?”
He smiles deviously. “It might keep you up at night.”
“I doubt it.” I sit at the small round table after washing my hands and watch Dasan season another fish and double-coat mine.
I’m guessing I didn’t do as good a job as I thought.
“Well, we have a scary story about these woods.”
“Daaaad,” Nokosi whines, crossing his eyes at me. He looks so young and boyish in this moment. “It wasn’t like that. This was a real guy. I saw him myself.”
“What scary story?” I ask with excitement and unwavering focus.
“Well, it goes something like…” He clears his throat and turns to give us his full attention. “In the depth of the brush and the thick of the trees, a demon of hellfire will come if one needs. He lives in the shadows, he hides from the sun, looking and longing and waiting for one. One who is desperate, one who’s not sane, one to die so they can live again, but it comes at a price, your life will be lost, your soul will be owned by the devil his cost. But then you’ll have riches and all his gifts, a life of grandeur, but with shackled wrists. You will belong to the demon, you will belong to the fire, you will belong to the devil, now a slave to your sire.”
I laugh loudly and give him a round of applause, laughing even louder still when he bows. I then glare at Nok. “How have you never told me that epic story before?”
“Because it’s stupid. It’s been said for years among our people and nobody has ever seen this demon.”
“Perhaps because nobody needed him,” Dasan suggests, a mystical flair to his voice. “Until now.”
“Dasan, you rock,” I say, grinning and look at my ringing phone again. I ignore it, telling myself if they call again, I’ll answer it. I just don’t want to take any chances. What if it’s to trace me? Maybe I should change my number.
Damn I’m paranoid, rightfully so.
“Because of this man in the forest, though, I would like it if I could ride with you to your home. To make sure you both get there safe and my son returns to me in one piece.”
“Trust me, Dasan,” I say, grinning. “I’m the scariest thing on the reservation these days.”
“And I do not doubt it.” He cups my chin lovingly, like a father would a child, and returns to his duties. “Come. Now we must cook.” He hands me a metal rack. “Oil it for me, please, otherwise the fish will stick.”
