After a quick and comforting shower, Leif put on his jacket and stealthily left the room to go search for breakfast.
The fresh morning air, though still early, cleared his mind, and a soft whistled melody accompanied his steps as he imagined Jennifer waking up.
As soon as he returned to the room, he found Jennifer stirring under the sheets, which barely covered the curve of her bare back.
The first rays of sun peeked through the curtains, caressing her skin and revealing the silhouette of her body beneath the thin fabric.
She slowly opened her eyes, still sleepy, and her gaze settled on him.
A soft smile curved the corners of her lips.
"I thought you were already gone," she mumbled, hoarse from sleep, with a hint of playful reproach.
Leif returned her smile, holding up the breakfast bag. "And miss the pleasure of seeing you wake up, my love? No way."
Jennifer, with a voluptuous slowness, sat up a bit, her eyes still fixed on his.
The sheets subtly slipped, revealing the nakedness of her shoulders and the start of her bust, which moved gracefully.
Then, as if an invisible force drew her, she stood up with a fluid movement. The first steps toward Leif were a delicate dance of exposed skin and confidence, leaving behind the still-warm bed.
Reaching him, without breaking eye contact, she rose onto her tiptoes, her hands settled with a soft urgency around Leif's neck, and their lips met in a kiss that was much more than a morning greeting.
The kiss started slow, exploratory, savoring his breath and her sleep-sweetness.
Jennifer's mouth opened slightly, and Leif's tongue responded to the invitation aggressively, intertwining with hers.
The contact grew deeper, more urgent, their bodies drawing closer until there was barely any space between them. Leif slid his hands down Jennifer's bare back, feeling the softness of her skin, the warmth of her body against his.
His fingers lingered on the curve of her waist, slowly moving up, outlining the delicacy of her spine, while she clung to him with a palpable need, deepening the kiss with a total surrender that drew another moan, this time more audible, from Leif's throat.
It was a kiss that said everything without words.
"Sigh..."
They separated with a shared sigh, lips swollen, eyes bright with lust... but first they had to eat.
After enjoying breakfast in bed, Leif drove Jennifer back to her house. The goodbye at the threshold was sweet and prolonged, and then, he turned around to start walking toward his own home.
The sky, which moments before had been clear, suddenly darkened, as if something had covered the sun with a blanket of black clouds.
In the blink of an eye, large drops of water began to fall, transforming almost instantly into a torrential downpour that lashed the city fiercely.
Leif did not panic. This moment was, in fact, perfect for testing his new ability.
A strange light shone in his eyes and, with concentration, he used his telekinesis to form a spherical barrier around his body, completely isolating the pouring rain.
...
In a house in the neighborhood ahead, Billy was laid up in bed. Fever had knocked him out, his breath wheezing and his eyes heavy. For his younger brother, Georgie, this was almost a blessing.
With Billy sick, he had a playmate.
Billy, struggling to keep his eyes open, mustered his last strength to fold a sheet of newspaper. With careful creases, he turned it into a paper boat.
It was no big deal, but in those folds lay all the patience of an older brother.
Just as Billy was drifting back to sleep, the deluge unleashed outside. Rain drummed against the windowpane.
It was an insistent sound, almost an invitation. It called to Georgie.
He didn't think twice. He slipped into his bright yellow raincoat and darted out of the house, the boat safely in his hand.
The air smelled of wet asphalt.
With utmost care, Georgie placed the boat in the stream running furiously along the sidewalk. The current immediately caught it.
"There goes the S.S. Georgie!" he shouted, running alongside it.
The boat sailed fast, but danger was approaching.
The storm drain on the corner of the street opened like a hungry mouth. Water swirled in front of it, turning into a treacherous whirlpool. The paper boat sped up.
Georgie saw what was about to happen and his heart skipped a beat.
"No!"
He dashed forward, his rubber boots splashing desperately in the puddles. But the soaked paper was relentless. It slid faster and faster, straight toward the darkness.
And then, it disappeared.
It was swallowed by the black mouth of the storm drain.
"..."
Georgie stopped dead in his tracks. He stood paralyzed, staring at the empty gap where his boat had gone. He didn't even notice the rain soaking him.
He only felt a knot in his throat, a rage that always preceded tears.
He was about to turn around, defeated and ready to go home and cry, when a sound stopped him.
It wasn't the rain. It wasn't the running water.
It came from inside the storm drain. A soft splash, as if something was settling down there.
Fear told him to run. Curiosity made him take a step.
Then another.
He crouched down, trying to let his eyes adjust to the gloom of the drain. He brought his face close to the wet cement edge, smelling the dampness and something else...
And something was staring back.
First, he only saw two bright yellow dots.
Two eyes.
Then, slowly, a pale face emerged from the shadows.
It was a face made up of cracked white. It had a smile that was not a smile, a blood-red slash that curved obscenely up to its cheeks, revealing large, uneven yellow teeth.
It was a clown... a terrifying clown at the bottom of the storm drain.
The white face was still there, motionless in the darkness. The clown tilted its head, its red smile like an open wound.
"Georgie... your boat is here." With a voice that sounded like a detuned carousel and was full of sticky temptation, it spoke.
From somewhere in the gloom, the creature pulled out the S.S. Georgie, soaked but intact, and waved it like a prize.
"It's floating nicely down here. Don't you want it?"
A gasp of relief escaped Georgie. His boat! Joy instantly erased all fear. He stretched out his small hand toward the drain, eager to retrieve it.
But the instant his fingers brushed the damp paper, the clown's other hand shot out of the shadows.
But it didn't look like a hand but a claw. Pale, bony, and icy, it clamped onto Georgie's wrist like a steel trap.
The pain was immediate and sharp, and the force was brutal, inhuman.
It started pulling.
Georgie screamed, a shriek of pure terror that tore his throat.
"BILLY! Billy, save me!"
He struggled with all his might, his rubber boots slipping on the wet asphalt, trying to dig in his heels. But it was useless.
The clown inexorably dragged him toward the darkness. Georgie's cry, though almost muffled by the deluge, was a peak of desperation so sharp that it cut the air...
...a sound that the wind carried two blocks away, where Leif was walking in the same torrential rain.
The scream cut through the roar of the water. "BILLY!"
There was no time to think. It was a bloodcurdling sound, a sound that was wrong. Leif spun on his heels and ran, not toward the voice, but toward the source of the terror that produced it, guided by a chilling certainty.
He rounded the corner, skidding on the wet pavement, and the scene hit him head-on. The yellow silhouette of a child, about to be swallowed by the storm drain.
He saw Georgie, clinging with one hand to the slippery edge of the cement, while his other arm was being dragged by that pale, bony thing.
The clown was pulling, its mouth open, showing all its teeth, inches away from sinking them into the child.
There was no more time for hesitation. Leif covered the distance in three strides. His right hand shot forward and caught the clown's arm just above the wrist holding Georgie.
And with the contact, the purification.
A bluish-white light, bright as magnesium, erupted from Leif's palm.
Like flame, it climbed up the clown's arm unstoppably. Where the light touched, the clown's skin instantly cracked and turned to ash.
!
The scream that burst from the clown's mouth was inhuman, a shriek of pure agony that pierced the sound of the rain.
Its body convulsed, writhing frantically within that purifying light. The arm Leif held flailed chaotically, and the face, already grotesque, deformed into a mask of unimaginable pain.
The bluish-white light didn't just burn, it dissolved. In a matter of seconds, the creature disintegrated like wet paper, evaporating into a column of black smoke that the rain instantly dispersed.
The scream was cut short.
Suddenly, the only sound was the drumming of the water again.
In that sudden silence, Georgie's ragged breathing sounded like a scream. The boy remained glued to the asphalt, trembling violently, with terror still anchored in his eyes.
Leif let out the air he didn't know he was holding and turned to him. He crouched down, meeting him at his height, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"It's over," he said in a calm voice. "Kid, on rainy days like this, you can't go out alone. Got that?"
Georgie could barely nod, his eyes flooded with tears that were finally starting to spill over.
Opportune, Leif saw the paper boat, abandoned in the stream next to the storm drain. He picked it up, shaking off the dirty water, and held it out to him. "Here. Go home. Your family must be worried about you."
As if grabbing a lifeline, Georgie snatched the boat. That piece of soaked paper was the only warmth and safety left. He turned and ran. He didn't look back.
He just ran, his yellow raincoat turning into a bright spot receding in the downpour.
"..."
Leif slowly stood up, watching the boy disappear.
But as he was about to leave, he turned, feeling the weight of a gaze upon him.
His sight swept the street and fixed, instantly, on the other side.
There, under the deep shadow of a tree, stood the same clown.
He was holding a single red balloon, so bright it seemed to absorb the daylight. The balloon swayed gently, in an unnatural calm that defied the wind.
The clown's eyes, two yellow pits, were fixed on Leif.
The message was clear: Leif had interrupted the hunt.
Leif held the stare.
"Pennywise."
The name seemed to strike him. The being tilted its head, a curious gesture. How...?
But in a blink.
The image of Pennywise dissolved.... It simply wasn't there anymore.
But the red balloon was.
It remained there, floating static, with nothing holding it, a crimson dot against the gray of the storm.
________
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