Chapter Text
On your way home from work one night, you feel it for the first time.
A pull, a force, strong enough to stop you mid-stride, to turn you around, make you stare into the dark bushes by your house for some kind of source. There’s nothing there. Nothing you can see, at least.
You gulp, but quickly push the fear down, just as you taught yourself to do all those years ago.
Don’t get scared. Get angry.
Pushing the worry from your mind, you resume your casual stride. You think you hear soft footsteps behind you, but you refuse to look. No one’s there, you already checked. And if there was someone there, you’d beat their face in before they even tried—
“What a funny creature you are.”
For just a moment your anger slips, and fear takes back its hold once more. You spin around to face the raspy, male voice that had come from right behind you, directly into your ear.
There’s no one there.
Don’t be scared. Be angry. Be angry be angry be angry—
“So unusual…”
Your fist almost connects with his jaw, but in a blur of white and red he ducks out of the way, and before you can even wonder about the colors he somehow pops from one spot to the next. One second he’s in front of you, the next he’s to your side.
You adjust fairly easily. It’s been years since your last karate class, but certain moves still haven’t left your system. You shift your weight and drop low to the floor, sweeping your leg out to slam against his legs in an effort to knock him down.
Except before you can make contact, he’s gone again. How in the hell…?
“So unique,” he decides, now several feet behind you. This is the first time you get a good look at him. You freeze, taking nearly ten whole seconds just to let his appearance sink into your mind, to convince yourself you’re not loosing it.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” you ask, throwing your hands into the air in exasperation. “I’m being attacked by a creep in a clown suit?”
“A creep?” he echoes, mocking offense by crossing his arms and huffing, completely over the top just like a real clown might act. “How rude! This is my favorite form, you know. Who doesn’t love a good clown?”
“Me,” you say. “Now walk away and I won’t kick your ass.”
The wicked smile he gives you is menacing, but there’s something about it that catches you off guard. It’s almost as if he’s actually happy about what you just said.
“Fiery,” he says in a lower, more gravely voice than the one he was using before. “I like that. Means the transformation will be easier on you.”
As if the clown getup wasn’t enough of an indicator, his words are enough to convince you that this guy’s fucking insane.
“I’m warning you,” you say seriously. Maybe this is really just some loony escaped from his bin. You don’t want to hurt the guy just for being crazy. “Go back to wherever you came from and leave me alone.”
“I can do one of those things,” he tells you. “But only if I don’t do the other.”
You clench your jaw muscles and curl your hands into fists, fully prepared to split your knuckles. He seems to notice, but he only smiles even wider. It’s creepy as all hell but you turn your uncertainty into irritation with practiced ease. You stride forward, showing him you’re not on the defensive and hopefully intimidating him with your confidence.
“Oh, you silly, silly creature,” he says as you walk closer. He looks amused at your performance. “You can’t hurt me as you are now. Though I sure do like your spunk!”
Just before your fist can land on his painted white jaw, your forearm is caught in his hand. Not skipping a beat, you bring your knee up to slam against his side. This time you don’t miss, but the clown doesn’t even flinch at the blow. Not one to give up, you stomp on his toes, punch him in his solar plexus, and even knee him in the groin, but not one of your attacks seems to hurt him.
All the while, your right arm is held firmly in his grip, and he smiles down at you almost giddily, snickering mockingly behind his teeth.
Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. A human man, even one who had a high pain tolerance, couldn’t take a knee to the groin and not even blink. You try yanking your hand out of his grip but he holds tight with inhuman strength.
Inhuman strength. Inhuman endurance. Inhuman speed.
What the hell is this… thing?
“There it is,” he says, his voice low and gravely again. “Your tasty, tasty fear…”
His eyes stare deeply into yours, and you only just notice the color of them. You hadn’t really cared before, thought maybe they were just really light in color or, hell, maybe even contacts. But now you can see the glow in them. His irises are fire incarnate.
“But your fear smells different,” the clown says, whispering it to you like he’s telling you a secret. Those bright yellow eyes begin to drift askew, but you know he’s still looking directly at you. “Do you want to know why?”
“Let go of me,” you demand, your resolve slipping. Training temporarily forgotten in your panic, you begin pushing at his chest desperately, trying to free yourself from his firm grip.
“Not until I show you what you are,” he says.
You notice a thick dribble of spit drooling from the end of his large bottom lip. He’s so close to your face now that you can smell his breath. Rusty, like blood, and meat that’s been sitting out for a little too long.
To your horror, you find yourself drawn to the smell. Never in your life had you considered the smell of blood enticing, but on this demonic clown’s breath it’s almost like a musk.
“That’s right,” he says, as if he’s trying to soothe you. His free hand cups your face, gripping your jaw when you try to flinch out of it. “Don’t I smell so good?”
“N-no,” you force out through clenched teeth. “Get away from me, you freak!”
“Who’s the freak?” he asks gleefully, using that childlike voice again. He’s so excited, his words jumbling together like he’s about to show you something amazing. “Do you know any other humans who like the smell of blood and rotting flesh? I sure don’t. But then, you’re not entirely human, are you?”
“W-what the hell are you talking about?” You’ve given up on thinking this guy was just a random crazy person. Clearly, he’s no person at all. Which means that maybe there is some sense to his words. “Of course I’m fucking human!”
He starts to giggle, like he can’t contain himself because what you said was so fucking funny.
“Ha ha! Hoo hoo, no, no, no, you’re not!” he says through his chuckles. “Oh no, not you, nope! Hee-hee, here, I’ll show you!”
You can do nothing but watch in horror as his eyes roll back into his head and his mouth open so wide that his jaw actually unhinges. He has rows and rows of needle-sharp teeth, like a lamprey eel or a goblin shark. They just keep going and going, his mouth opening further and further, until light peaks over his massive tongue like a rising sun.
Your eyes squint to adjust to the hypnotizing glow, and three balls of light beam at you from within this beast’s wide, toothy maw. They’re… beautiful. You stare in awe as the lights dance in front of you, the urge to reach out and cup them in childlike wonder gripping your very soul.
Slowly, almost gently, this wonderful creature’s mouth begins to close, and you actually whimper at the loss of the lights. You want nothing more than to see them again.
You are now completely drained of fear. You know, somehow, that you should be terrified. What you just witnessed is not something of this world, or perhaps even of this universe. It is not meant for human eyes to comprehend, and yet to you they are the most amazing things you’d ever seen.
“What are they?” you ask, breathless. The clown slowly releases his grip on your arm, and you don’t even try to run. Why would you, after seeing something like that?
“Deadlights,” says the clown, his face strangely blank now. His head tilts slightly to the side, as if he’s studying you. “You like them?”
“They’re beautiful,” you admit. Your cheeks are burning and your heart is racing, and suddenly there’s very little about this clown that scares you anymore. “Can I see them again?”
“If you come with me,” he says, his eyes trained on your lips. He starts to drool again, and the scent of blood once again washes through you. “If you be mine.”
“Your what?” you ask, warning bells going off in your head.
“Mine.” He growls out the word, and it rumbles through your whole body. Your toes curl in their shoes.
It’s completely insane, and yet it feels so right. After seeing his “deadlights” your entire worldview has changed. It is as though something has awoken inside you; primal desires and instincts that you know are not meant for this human life.
You need to go with him. You need to see his lights again.
“Okay,” you say softly, and his lips stretch into that menacing smile once again. Only now this time, it’s not so menacing. Now, it’s devious.
And you find yourself wanting to smile just like that, too.