The setting sun, the golden hour. The neon lights being turned on one after another.

A beautiful combination of rush hour and the beginning of the rest period of the day.

It's calm and rewarding after a long day, that is except Kathleen and the rest currently sitting in her truck. 

The rickety truck cranked and groaned as it drove through the highway on it's way to Noah's apartment.

Kathleen's brows were furrowed, her hands gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. 

Each time the truck shook and her eyes panned to the back where Noah and Kael sat, her eyes hurt.

The energy around them was so strong and dense now they sat close to each other.

She sighed and rubbed her brows wondering what her life has turned into.

Noah on the other hand felt uncomfortable, his brain felt wrong. Like there's something he's forgetting.

At first he passed it off as a side effect of falling into a coma but as he looked at Kael that nagging feeling grew.

The past few days hadn't been kind to Noah. It had been one problem after another, and honestly, he needed a break. He tried to push the feeling down, but it refused to budge.

It annoyed him beyond measure. 

He stole a peek at Kael, his breath stopping at the thought of Kael catching him staring but Kael didn't look his way, seemingly lost in thought.

Ever since he woke up Kael hasn't said said a single word to him and kept his distance. It made him strangely uncomfortable but no matter how many times he tried he couldn't say a single word to Kael.

Miles away from the hum of Kathleen’s truck, the silence of the suburbs was being shredded by the screech of tires as Detective Mitch's car came to a halt.

Detective Mitch didn't just stop in front of the apartment complex; he slammed the car into park before the engine had even fully died.

He sat there for a moment, his chest heaving, the steering wheel slick with his own sweat. To anyone passing by, he was just a cop on a tough case. But to Mitch, the interior of the car was shrinking, suffocating him.

He looked in the rearview mirror, but he didn't see a decorated detective. He saw a man whose skin was twitching with a life of its own.

A phantom itch started behind his ear, and when he scratched it, he could have sworn he felt something soft and squishy collapse under his nail. He didn't look down. He couldn't.

After a hot minute, he stepped out of the car and stared at the apartment building with a shop underneath.

Ware.

The kid’s name was Noah Ware. Twenty years old, and already tied up in things that made hell look like a playground.

Mitch spat directly at the building, the bitter taste of antiseptic still coating his tongue. He’d seen types like this before, kids who thought they could play with all these ancestral nonsense and stay clean. Now Mitch was the one paying for it.

He was the one rotting while the kid played victim.

(Note from Ryle: Uhm this part isn't a racist jab at the black community, I'm black myself; West African. This is just Mitch's thinking as he's a racist bigot and in no way, shape or form reflect my personal beliefs.)

He slowly walked up the stairs beside the building, welcoming the cold biting wind that somewhat numbed the uncomfortable slimy sensation he's feeling.

At some point he stopped, shook his head violently then proceeded to take off his jacket and scratched his skin so violently that red marks bloomed on his skin, some bleeding but he didn't stop. The uncomfortable feeling growing each step he took.

Once he reached the door, he grabbed the knob and shook it violently but it didn't budge. 

He grew angry and grabbed it with both of his hands and shook it with all his might, shouting and cursing at the top of his lungs.

The door still stood strong seemingly mocking Mitch, enraging him even further. 

He slammed his body into the door multiple times before it gave way and he waltzed in. 

The apartment carried a faint sense of blood and that suddenly made him remember the hellish morgue. He could smell the disinfectant and feel the cold, clinical air and his body shivered involuntarily. He closed his eyes then blinked rapidly in an effort to clear them out and when he opened his eyes, they were gone.

He wasted no time and started rummaging through the apartment looking for anything at all.

Kathleen pulled to a stop in front of the building and furrowed her brow at the sight of a cop car parked in her parking space.

"There's a cop car here" Kathleen announced.

"What? What are they doing here?" Noah asked almost jumping off his seat.

"I'm not sure but we are about to find out"

The trio silently walked up the metal stairs and pushed open the door only to find the apartment completely trashed.

They walked in, stumbling over things randomly scattered around the apartment. Just before Noah could say a word, a man walked out of Noah's room, a pistol in his hand.

"STAND WHERE YOU ARE AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR" He spat, the muzzle moving between the three before settling on Kael.

Noah noticed the badge sitting on his waist and cursed "Hey, hey man please put the gùn down" Noah beckoned slowly bending down, his voice laced with fear and worry.

"I said stand and don't fcking move" When the three raised their hands he asked, his voice shaking "How did you do it, huh? Tell me how the fck you did it?"

Kathleen stared at Mitch in shock, her mouth hanging open at the sight before her. The dark energy around Mitch is actively eating him up, draining him of everything.

She noticed something moving inside the violet mass of energy and moved closer but halted when the muzzle was now aimed at her.

"Don't test me lady" He warned then turned to Kael, his body tweaking "Answer me nǝgro, HOW DID YOU CURSE ME?!" 

Kael sneered and didn't say a word, Mitch walked up to him, his body tense and and aimed the weapon directly at Kael's forehead but before he could spit out another threat, the sound of sirens filled the air and Mitch's face paled.

Noah breathed a sigh of relief and Mitch backed off and ran to the door, he took one last, long look at Kael and the rest and spat on the floor before running off.

Once Mitch ran far enough from the apartment, he paused to catch his breath and pulled out a book he hid under his jacket.

It's an old looking book with sigils around it. The more Mitch looked at it the more unsettled he became.

But it also made him more confident.