Atlas
AS SOON AS JULIAN’S head smacks into the hardwood, I run. With the incubus staring at his limp body, I take my chances and give it a wide berth, unlocking my bedroom door and flying down the stairs.
All the while, Oscar’s words ring in my ear.
“If things become… difficult, please come to me. No matter the time or day, come get me. Do you understand?”
I’m running so fast that I don’t register the sound of my feet slapping against the crisp flooring or my own heavy panting.
All I can see is the deep red blood flowing down the side of Julian’s face or the sound of his body slamming into my dresser.
My mind is full of different angles of the incubus, terrifying and too real. Now it’s too real.
It was having sex with me. That thing has been slamming into me, night after night, and I am petrified.
And now, I’ve left it up there with Julian, to hurt him, to kill him. But what could I do? If someone as strong and brave as Julian couldn’t fight it off, then I certainly can’t.
Once I’m in Hall E2, I slam open Oscar’s door without a thought. The man in question startles, falling out of his bed.
It’s my first time seeing him so discombobulated. His hair is a mess, and he’s wearing nothing but a pair of cotton pajama pants and a t-shirt as he wipes his eyes.
“W-what’s happening?” he asks, voice hoarse.
“Julian is dying,” I rush out, walking up to his side to grab his hand. “Help me. Right now.”
Oscar takes one good look at me and goes pale. A moment later, a fuzzy blue robe is being thrown over my shoulders and tied around my waist as I slide my arms through the correct slots.
“Good Lord, Young Master Atlas. Why are you running around naked?” he chastises, his brow pinched.
“Oscar!” I screech. “Julian is dying. It is in there with him right now, and he’s bleeding. Fucking help me!”
The butler is gaping at me, frozen, before he seems to come to his senses. He stands up straight, nodding once.
“Let’s get your father.”
“What?! No! Why—”
“I cannot take on this demon alone, Young Master Atlas,” Oscar says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I am not sure what the two of you have done, but for Julian’s sake, we must get your father.”
I know he’s right. Fuck, I know he is. And my desire to keep Julian alive trumps my fear of my father kicking him out, but the fear is still there.
“Fine,” I grit out, and Oscar nods, slipping on a pair of house slippers as he guides me back toward the main staircase.
We reach Hall W2 quickly, and Oscar slips inside, leaving me in the hallway. A minute or two later, my father comes barreling out in a robe, his face distraught as he looks me up and down.
“My darling boy,” he breathes. “Are you alright? What is happening?”
“Papa,” I cry, suddenly feeling like a small child who has fallen from his bike. “It’s here, and it has Julian. Please, I’m begging you to save him. Please.”
A determined expression, the kind of expression only a motivated father can make, covers his features.
“I will fix this, Atty,” he promises before turning on his heel.
Only, he makes it no more than two steps before a loud scream sounds throughout the castle.
Abigail.
In a flash, the three of us are running toward Hall W4, spotting Atticus as he’s tumbling out of his own bedroom.
“What’s happening?” he asks, disoriented.
No one responds to him as we burst into Abigail’s room. She’s sitting on her bed, sobbing into her arms with her knees drawn up.
“Little one,” Father calls, falling to his knees next to her bed. “What is it?”
“I s-saw something,” she whimpers, unwilling to lift her face from where it’s tucked. “It was big and scary.”
My father looks over his shoulder, his eyes finding mine.
It appears the incubus can leave the west tower, something I was unsure of until now, outside of its visits to Julian’s room.
“It’s okay, love. It’s over now. We’ll protect you,” he coos, dropping a kiss to her forehead.
“What’s happened? I heard Abby scream.” My mother pushes into the room from behind us, approaching my sister’s bed.
Repressing a groan, I run a frantic hand through my curls. It appears the entire castle is awake; all that is missing is Jeremy Walsh—
“Master Abraham? Is everything alright? I heard commotion, but when I went to check on Julian, I couldn’t find him. Is he in here?” Jeremy fucking Walsh appears behind me.
Great. Now the entire castle really is awake, and the incubus is in an unknown location while—oh, no.
Julian!
“Fuck!” I shout, shoving past Jeremy and Atticus and sprinting toward the door that leads to the west tower, taking the steep steps two at a time.
I can hear a chorus of following footsteps pounding behind me, but I can’t find it within myself to care.
As I enter my bedroom, I’m relieved to find only Julian in the room. He’s still lying limp in front of my dresser, blood crusted over the right side of his face and pooled onto the floor around where he rests.
I rush to his side, pulling his upper body into my lap.
“Julie,” I whisper, gently pushing his hair from his forehead.
There is a gash running from the upper corner of his forehead over his eye, most likely from where he slammed into the dresser, and a nasty bruise on his cheek from where the incubus slapped him.
“Julian!” Jeremy shouts, rushing forward.
Oscar grabs his arm, keeping him with my father and Atticus by the door as he peers around the room with narrowed eyes.
“Wait,” he murmurs.
“Let go of me! That’s my son!” Jeremy demands, but Oscar does not obey. He continues his search, and I notice that Atticus and my father are also looking around wearily, their chest rising and falling quickly.
“It’s still here. It’s somewhere in this room,” Atticus whispers, his face pale.
The room is deathly silent, aside from our breathing.
“Someone better tell me what the fuck is going on before I lose my damn mind. Who hurt my son?” Jeremy screeches, and I feel for him—I really do—but he wouldn’t understand even if I did try to explain it.
“Listen,” Father begins, but he promptly closes his mouth as Julian stirs in my lap.
“Julian!” I call, running my fingers over his cheek.
“Atlas?” he mutters. And then, more urgently, as he tries to sit up, “Atlas! Are you okay? Where is it? Did it touch you? Fuck, why is everything red?”
I keep him where he is, not willing to let him move around too much and injure himself further. But something in my chest warms at his immediate concern for me.
“It didn’t touch me,” I assure him. “And you’re bleeding; that’s why everything is red.”
“Bleeding?” he asks, wide eyes staring up at me as he lifts a hand and runs it gently over the gash on his face, wincing.
“Julie,” Jeremy breathes.
Julian tilts his head back, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Dad? Oh, shit—Master Abraham… Oscar… Young Master Atticus.”
I can see the panic as it unfolds. He’s been caught in the west tower, and to make things worse, he’s naked.
I reach into one of the half-open drawers behind us and pull out various articles of clothing, using them to cover his lap. Julian gives me a thankful smile.
Right as I’m about to explain what has happened or ask for some kind of first aid for Julian, the temperature of the air rises.
The hairs on my arms stand on end, and everyone in the room—aside from Jeremy—freezes.
Julian tenses in my arms, his hands lifting to grip my shoulders.
It is as if the atmosphere of the room has shifted, something ominous and insidious taking up shop right alongside us. I feel suffocated.
“We should go—” But Atticus stops speaking, his eyes growing wide as he stares ahead.
Slowly, I turn my attention to the right, to where the incubus stands before my mirror.
“What the fuck?” Jeremy whispers.
“Oh, god,” I murmur. Julian squeezes me tighter, but I can feel him shaking.
The incubus is horrifying to look at; absolutely disgusting. Its black eyes are watching us silently, though I can’t make out exactly who it’s observing.
And then, after everyone has stayed frozen and completely silent for long enough, it lifts one long arm, pointing a crooked finger with its sharp nail right at me.
Then, distorted and hoarse, it says, “Meus est.”
Louder than it was earlier in the night, it shrieks, and my father and Jeremy cover their ears and hunch over at the sound. Julian flinches in my hold. But Atticus stumbles forward, falling to his knees directly in front of me.
Protecting me.
I can see the rise and fall of his back, the way he’s trembling, but he does not move.
Fortunately, he’s not required to be any braver than that. As the shriek dies out, the incubus steps back into the darkness, disappearing completely.
Julian’s blood is everywhere, soaking into the robe I’m wearing and covering my hands. As I look into his eyes, I find them dim and slightly disoriented.
“He needs medical attention,” I say, urgent and scared.
Atticus turns around, peering down at Julian with concern.
“He’ll need stitches,” my brother confirms. “I can administer them. Let me take him.”
“No!” I shout, holding Julian closer to my chest. “I won’t let you take him.”
Atticus’s eyes are wide, shocked.
My father interrupts, saying, “You can’t carry his weight, darling. Let your brother—”
“I’ll carry him; he’s my son,” Jeremy interjects. “And after he’s taken care of, you will tell me what the fuck just happened.”
It appears that Jeremy no longer believes in formality, not after that. Not that I can blame him.
“Then I’m following you. I won’t leave him,” I insist.
“Atlas,” Julian calls softly. “I’m alright, really. You need to rest.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Not without you.”
The room is silent for a moment, and I can feel four pairs of eyes drilling into me, but I refuse to look away from Julian’s face.
Jeremy approaches, kneeling next to me.
“Alright,” Father begins, “let’s all head to the infirmary, and then we’ll get some rest. In the morning, we can discuss what has transpired.”
This seems to be a decent compromise, and I allow Jeremy to take Julian from my arms. I immediately feel cold and empty without him.