"Pay attention to the road, will you," Baphi said sharply, snapping Neil out of his thoughts.
Neil blinked and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He'd been lost in his head, replaying how he might approach her again. The last time they'd seen each other, he'd tried to imprison her. Not exactly a fond memory.
"You can't keep beating yourself up over it," Baphi went on, his voice ringing out from the passenger seat. "It's not like you hid your background and then tried to lock her up the moment you found out hers."
Neil shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. Baphi only grinned wider, clearly pleased with himself.
"Don't look at me like that," the cat said casually, licking his paw as if they weren't discussing Neil's most embarrassing screw-up.
"Oh—remember, we need to restock supplies," Baphi added a moment later. "We're out of wolfsbane, holy water, and you still need to carve more runes."
"I know," Neil muttered. "But Michael still hasn't texted me back, and finding neem wood for the runes isn't exactly easy."
"I guess so." Baphi said stretching then jumping from his position in the passenger seat to the back off the van.
---
After turning onto a narrow gravel road that split off from the main highway, they soon came upon a lone, weather-beaten house sitting in the middle of a wide, empty stretch of land. No fence. No lights. Just wind and silence.
Baphi squinted at it from the dashboard. "How do you even know she's here?"
"Don't worry about that," Michael said.
He stepped out of the van and walked around to the back, pulling the doors open. The interior was packed wall to wall with the tools of his trade. Knives of every size were mounted neatly along one side, their blades catching the dull light. On the lower shelves sat small pouches filled with things no ordinary person would ever want to touch. Firearms rested on the opposite wall, clean and well-kept.
None of it held his attention for long.
He reached into the center of the van and dragged out a black duffel bag. When he unzipped it, Baphi hopped down from his cushion and padded closer, peering inside. A small smirk tugged at his whiskers.
"Thought you said you were just going to talk to her," Baphi said. "Why do you need all this?"
Michael nudged the cat's head aside and sighed. "That's exactly what I'm here to do. I'd just prefer she doesn't rip my head off before I get the chance."
He pulled out a leather belt fitted with three sharpened wooden stakes and fastened it around his waist. Then he took a silver crucifix from the bag and slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket.
His eyes flicked back to the duffel. A small crossbow lay nestled among the rest of the gear. He hesitated, then shook his head and left it where it was.
The bag was zipped shut and shoved back into the van.
Baphi jumped down to the ground as Michael closed the doors. He turned and faced the house again, taking a slow, steady breath before starting up the long, uneven driveway.
Halfway there, he glanced over his shoulder.
Baphi was still by the van.
"You not coming?" Michael asked.
The cat flicked his tail. "I know what happens when you knock on that door," he said dryly. "And I don't feel like getting caught in the crossfire."
Michael didn't argue. He just turned back toward the house and kept walking.
"He's so hopeless," Baphi muttered to no one in particular, shaking his head.
Michael reached the porch and raised his hand to the door, knocking firmly.
Knock. Knock.
He waited. Thirty seconds passed. Then another. No footsteps, no answer—just the faint glow of a light burning somewhere inside the house.
He stepped back, squinting at the window, then leaned forward again and knocked harder.
"I know someone's in there," he called out. "Could you please come to the door? My hand's getting tired."
A sharp click echoed from the other side.
The door flew open with more force than necessary.
A girl stood there, rigid and seething. Her eyes burned a furious red, locking onto him like a blade. Her jaw was clenched, lips drawn tight, as if the only thing holding her still was the effort not to explode. There was no fear in her posture—only restrained violence, the kind that came from someone deciding exactly how much damage to do.
"I—"
Michael barely got the word out before her fist crashed into his face.
The world tilted. He was lifted clean off his feet and sent flying off the porch, slamming into the gravel in front of the van where Baphi stood. The impact rattled his bones.
"Cough—cough!" Michael choked, forcing air back into his lungs as he tried to push himself upright.
Baphi stared down at him, unimpressed. "And that," he said dryly, "went exactly how I said it would."
"You have some nerve," she said coldly, stepping down from the porch one slow step at a time.
"Shit…" Michael groaned as he forced himself fully upright.
He barely had time to look at her before she was suddenly right in front of him, the space between them gone in a blink.
"I'm sorry— I'm sorry!" Michael blurted, throwing both hands up defensively as she drew her arm back, clearly ready to hit him again.
She bared her teeth in a hiss and grabbed him by the collar with one hand, lifting him off the ground like he weighed nothing.
"You're eight months too late, Malachi," she snarled.
"I know, I know—but you're not exactly easy to find," he said quickly, feet dangling as he tried not to choke. "I went to your apartment. You were already gone. What was I supposed to do?"
That was the wrong answer.
Her grip tightened as she shook him once, hard. Here you go — clean, tense, and with Baphi absolutely making things worse in the most Baphi way:
---
"You disappear for three months," she continued, her voice trembling with restrained fury, "then come looking for me like nothing happened and expect me to still be there?"
"Four," Baphi cut in casually from beside the van. "It was four months."
Silence snapped into place.
Evelyn's eyes flicked toward the cat, narrowing.
Michael twisted his head just enough to glare at him. "Not now," he growled through clenched teeth.
Baphi shrugged, utterly unbothered. "What? If we're going to argue, we might as well be accurate."
Evelyn's grip tightened again, her fingers digging into Michael's jacket as she stared between them. Her expression shifted—not softer, not calmer—just sharper, like she was reassessing everything all over again.
"Unbelievable," she muttered.
Michael exhaled slowly, still dangling. "I can explain," he said. "I just… need you to put me down first."
Whether she would was another question entirely.
Evelyn let go.
Not gently.
Michael hit the ground hard, boots scraping against the gravel as he caught himself just before face-planting. She didn't spare him a glance. Instead, she turned on her heel and started back toward the house.
"Evelyn—wait," he said quickly, stumbling after her. "I didn't just disappear for no reason."
She didn't slow down.
Baphi hopped off the hood of the van and padded after them, tail flicking lazily as if this were all mild entertainment.
"I left the country," Michael continued, keeping a careful distance behind her. "I went to Japan. There was a yōkai causing trouble—something big. I thought it'd be quick."
She reached the porch, unlocking the door without looking back.
"It wasn't," he said. "I got pulled into helping other exorcists. Spirits, curses, kami—every time I thought I was done, something else came up. Four months just… disappeared."
The door opened, and she stepped inside.
Michael followed—and stopped short.
The inside of the house was nothing like the outside suggested. Where the exterior was dull and weathered, the interior was warm and clean. The floors were polished, the furniture sparse but well kept. Everything was orderly, intentional. It felt lived-in. Safe.
Evelyn walked straight through the room.
"You could've told me," she said flatly. "You could've said you were leaving."
"I didn't think—"
"That's obvious," she snapped, finally turning on him. "You could've texted. Even once."
She gestured sharply toward his pocket. "Even though I'm a vampire, I still have a phone."
Michael opened his mouth, then closed it again.
"And close the door," she added, irritation dripping from every word.
Baphi, already inside, glanced back at Michael with a look that clearly said told you so as the tension settled heavily in the room.
Michael shut the door behind them, the soft click sounding far louder than it should have.
"I should've told you," he said quietly. No excuses this time. No explanations layered on top of each other. "I should've said something before I left. I should've texted. Called. Anything."
Evelyn folded her arms, leaning against the counter. Her expression didn't soften.
"I didn't," he continued, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "And that's on me."
For a moment, she just stared at him, searching for something—any crack in his resolve. When she didn't find one, she scoffed softly.
"You traveled halfway across the world," she said. "But couldn't send a message."
"I thought if I finished it quickly, I could come back and explain everything in person," he admitted. "I didn't plan on being gone that long. And by the time I realized how much time had passed… I was already in too deep."
She didn't respond.
Michael reached into his jacket slowly, making sure she could see his hands. He pulled out a small, wrapped bundle and placed it on the table between them.
"I brought you something," he said.
Evelyn's gaze flicked down, wary. After a long pause, she unwrapped it.
Inside lay a dagger—sleek and dark, its blade faintly translucent, as if light passed through blood frozen mid-motion. Strange symbols ran along its edge, glowing faintly red. Etched near the hilt were two small initials.
E. V.
Her jaw tightened.
"It's forged from condensed blood essence," Michael said softly. "A craftsman in Kyoto made it9."
She picked it up, testing its weight. The blade hummed faintly in her grip.
"This doesn't make it okay," she said flatly.
"I know."
She didn't give it back.
Footsteps sounded from the hallway.
An elderly woman entered the room, her posture slightly hunched but her eyes sharp with curiosity. "Evelyn, dear," she said pleasantly. "Who are your guests?"
Evelyn didn't hesitate. "Friends."
The woman smiled warmly. "Oh, that's nice." Her gaze dropped to Baphi, who had seated himself neatly on the rug. "And what a handsome little cat."
Before anyone could object, she scooped Baphi up and pulled him into a gentle cuddle.
Baphi stiffened for half a second… then resigned himself, purring softly and very deliberately not speaking.
Michael watched, confused. "You live here?" he asked Evelyn quietly.
She glanced at the old woman. "Not exactly."
Understanding hit him. His expression darkened. "Evelyn. You can't just hypnotize people and—"
Smack.
Pain flared as her hand connected with the back of his head.
"Careful," she said sharply. "You're on thin ice as it is."
The old woman chuckled softly, oblivious. "You young people always bicker," she said, stroking Baphi's fur.
Michael winced, rubbing the back of his head, while Baphi shot him a smug look from the safety of the woman's arms.
Some things, it seemed, hadn't changed at all.