Aidan
Aidan came home with a mission.
No more second-guessing. No more relying on the police. Whoever was trapped in that yard wasn't going to rescue themselves. If the authorities refused to believe him, then he would get proof—irrefutable, undeniable proof that would force them to take action.
He spent the rest of the evening pacing his room, working out a plan. It was simple but risky. He would sneak onto Mr. Albu's property under the cover of darkness, search the yard himself, and capture photographic evidence. Then, he'd march straight back to the police and shove the proof in their faces.
He just had to make sure he didn't get caught.
As the night deepened and his roommates drifted off to sleep, Aidan pulled on dark clothing, grabbed his phone, and quietly slipped out of the house. The neighborhood was eerily silent, every porch light extinguished, every window dark. The only sounds were the chirping of crickets and the distant rustle of leaves in the breeze.
His heart pounded as he reached Mr. Albu's property. The ten-foot wall loomed over him, even more intimidating in the dead of night. Aidan hesitated, gripping the rough surface. A nagging voice in the back of his head whispered that this was stupid, that he might not be able to make it back home if something went wrong.
"What the hell am I thinking?" He exhaled sharply, looking up at the sky. The stars twinkled above, indifferent to his impending doom.
It was too late to turn back now.
Muttering a quick prayer for his safety, Aidan hoisted himself up, struggling against gravity as his muscles burned with effort. His hands scraped against the bricks, but he gritted his teeth and pushed forward, finally reaching the top. From this height, the mansion looked even more ominous, its silhouette a monstrous shape against the night.
With a deep breath, he swung himself over and carefully climbed down the other side, landing softly on the grass.
The backyard stretched before him, swallowed in thick shadows. Aidan's gaze darted to the massive cottonwood tree standing at the far end of the yard, its ancient branches swaying gently in the wind. He took a cautious step forward.
Then, something moved.
Aidan froze.
Deep within the tangle of branches, something shifted, rustling the leaves like a whisper of warning. His breath hitched as he squinted into the darkness.
And then, he saw them.
Eyes.
Not human eyes. Vibrant, silver-grey eyes that glowed through the blackness, unblinking, locked onto him like a predator studying its prey.
Aidan's blood turned to ice.
The figure perched high in the tree was impossibly still, its posture unnervingly rigid, its limbs hidden within the canopy. It was too large, too shadowy, too... wrong to be human. A long, gleaming silver chain snaked down from its ankle, wrapped tightly around the thick trunk of the tree, binding it in place.
This was no ordinary prisoner.
This was a creature.
Aidan's pulse thundered in his ears as the realization hit him like a freight train. Whatever was lurking in that tree wasn't just a person—it was something else.
And it was watching him.
Aidan couldn't see it clearly in the dark. The thick shadows of the tree stretched over its form like a cloak, but he felt its gaze—an unwavering, piercing stare that sent shivers down his spine.
Then, without warning, the figure dropped from the high branch.
Aidan's breath caught in his throat. Its limbs moved unnaturally, its legs too long, its descent eerily silent. His body locked up in pure, primal fear, every instinct screaming at him to run. But his legs wouldn't obey. He couldn't even yell for help—not that Mr. Albu would come to his rescue after what happened this morning.
The creature moved on all fours, slow and cautious. It took a hesitant step forward, its posture tense, as if expecting a blow.
Aidan's heart twisted.
It reminded him of a stray dog—one that had been beaten too many times, flinching at the mere possibility of cruelty. The thought made his stomach churn with something unexpected: pity.
Even as every nerve in his body told him to get the hell out of there, something deeper—something stubborn—kept him rooted in place.
Slowly, he stepped forward.
The creature froze, its glowing eyes widening before it recoiled, skittering back into the tree's shadow like a frightened animal.
Aidan raised his hands slightly, his voice barely a whisper. "It's okay. I'm here to help you."
Only the rustling leaves answered him.
Aidan pulled out his phone, his hands trembling as he opened the camera. He needed proof—something solid to take to the police. He tapped the shutter button, and in an instant, the flash illuminated the darkness.
The effect was immediate.
A deep, guttural snarl tore through the night, reverberating through Aidan's chest like a shockwave. Before he could even register what was happening, the creature lunged from the shadows with an inhuman speed, its elongated limbs propelling it forward like a wild animal.
Aidan barely had time to react. He let out a strangled scream, instinctively raising his arms to shield his face as he stumbled backward. His feet lost their grip on the damp grass, and he crashed onto the ground, the cold earth biting into his skin.
His breath came in frantic gasps as he scrambled to push himself away, dirt and leaves clinging to his palms. But the creature didn't reach him—something yanked it back.
The chain.
It rattled violently as the thing strained against it, its body jerking forward until the metal links dug into its skin. A pained growl rumbled from its throat as it clawed at the ground, its glowing grey eyes burning into Aidan like a predator ready to pounce.
Before Aidan could even process the scene, rough hands grabbed him by the collar and hauled him backward.
"You just don't give up, do you? You stupid boy!"
Aidan gasped as he was dragged toward the porch, his heart hammering against his ribs. He twisted his head and caught sight of Mr. Albu, his wrinkled face contorted in rage. The old man's grip was like iron, unshaken by Aidan's attempts to break free.
Aidan finally found his voice. "W-What the hell is that thing? Some kind of lunatic?" He pushed himself to his feet, brushing off his scraped elbows, his eyes darting back to the tree.
But the creature was gone.
Just like before, it had disappeared into the thick shadows, its presence reduced to nothing but eerie silence.
Mr. Albu sighed, rubbing his temples as if Aidan were the biggest headache of his life. "What the hell are you doing here?" he snapped.
"I..." Aidan faltered. Yeah, this was bad. Sneaking into an old man's house in the middle of the night? Not exactly the smartest move. But he straightened his shoulders, forcing himself to focus. "Why do you have that man tied to a tree?"
Mr. Albu let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Don't you have better things to worry about?" He jerked his chin toward Aidan's house. "You live there, don't you?"
Aidan hesitated before nodding.
"Then go back, and we'll pretend this never happened." The old man turned, already making his way inside. "I won't call the cops on you for trespassing, and you can go on with your life. Seems like a fair deal to me."
Aidan's fingers clenched into fists. "I have a picture."
The second the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Mr. Albu stopped.
For a brief, chilling moment, there was complete silence. Then the old man turned back around, his gaze shadowed, unreadable.
"Delete it," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "And never come back here again. I'm telling you this for your good."
Aidan swallowed hard. His instincts screamed at him to listen—to leave before he got tangled in something he couldn't escape.
But then he thought of those eyes.
Glowing, terrified, pleading.
He squared his shoulders. "If this isn't what I think it is, then why don't you tell me the truth?" His voice was steadier now. "Why is that man tied to your tree?"
Mr. Albu's expression darkened. A shadow passed over his features, making the lines on his face seem deeper, more pronounced.
"He's not a man."
Aidan felt a chill crawl down his spine.
"What do you mean?" he whispered.
Mr. Albu exhaled sharply, looking over his shoulder toward the tree, where the thing lurked unseen. Then he turned back to Aidan, his eyes filled with something strange—something between warning and regret.
"You should've just gone home, kid."
The old man let out a deep, irritated sigh, his tired eyes flickering over Aidan before he finally muttered, "Come inside."
Aidan hesitated. Every rational part of his brain screamed at him to turn around and run. For all he knew, he was walking straight into a trap—one that ended with him being tied to a tree alongside that thing in the backyard. But deep down, something told him the old man wasn't as cruel as he seemed. There was no malice in his eyes, just exhaustion... and something else. Something like regret.
The door creaked as Aidan stepped inside, the air thick with the scent of old books and wood polish. The dim yellow glow of the lamps cast long shadows across the faded furniture, the place feeling frozen in time.
"Sit," Mr. Albu instructed, gesturing toward an ancient-looking sofa. Aidan sank into it cautiously, the worn-out cushions barely offering any comfort.
Without another word, the old man disappeared into a back room, the floorboards groaning under his weight. Aidan sat in silence, his heart still pounding from the encounter outside.
When Mr. Albu returned, he was holding an ice pack. He shoved it toward Aidan without ceremony.
"For your head," he said gruffly.
Aidan blinked before taking it, pressing the cold pack against the back of his skull where he'd hit it during the fall. A dull ache throbbed under his fingertips, but it was nothing compared to the storm of confusion in his mind.
His eyes flickered back to the old man. "I'm a bit confused, sir," he started, finally addressing him with some form of respect. "Why do you have a man tied up in your backyard?"
Mr. Albu's expression remained unreadable. "I told you. He's not a man."
Aidan frowned. "Is he a woman? Because he didn't exactly look—"
"No." The old man cut him off sharply.
Aidan exhaled in frustration. "Then what is he?"
Mr. Albu sighed, running a hand through his coarse white beard, his fingers momentarily pausing as if debating how much to reveal.
"I shouldn't be having this conversation at one in the morning," he muttered. "Especially with a boy I barely know."
Aidan bristled. "I'm an adult, Mr. Albu. I'm eighteen." He said it as if that had any relevance to the bizarre situation unfolding before him.
"That doesn't mean you're ready to know the truth."
"Try me."
Mr. Albu let out a short, humorless chuckle before shaking his head. "I don't owe you any answers, boy. And frankly, you shouldn't even be here. If I hadn't shown up when I did, you'd be dead by now." His voice grew sharper, his frustration seeping into every word. He stood up, pacing the length of the living room, his fingers twitching as if suppressing the urge to shake some sense into Aidan.
"You should go back home. Forget this ever happened."
But Aidan wasn't backing down. He wasn't leaving until he knew exactly what he had seen.
"I still have the picture, you know."
He pulled out his phone and opened his gallery, ready to shove the evidence in Mr. Albu's face—except when he actually looked at the image, a cold wave of nausea rolled over him.
The creature in the photograph was not human.
Light grey eyes stared back at him, glowing with feral intensity, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. But it wasn't the sharp jaw or the sunken, malnourished face that sent his pulse skyrocketing. It was the tail.
The thing tied to the tree had a tail.
Aidan swallowed hard, his fingers going numb around the phone.
"Do you see what I'm talking about now?" Mr. Albu's voice cut through the silence, grim and unwavering.
Aidan barely registered him. His mind was still stuck on the thing in the picture.
"What is he?" he whispered, feeling the blood drain from his face.
Mr. Albu didn't answer immediately. He only watched him, studying him as if trying to determine whether he could handle the truth.
Finally, he said, "It's better if you stay away. He's dangerous."
"That doesn't answer my question," Aidan muttered, his grip tightening around his phone.
Mr. Albu exhaled sharply. "If I told you what he is, you wouldn't believe me."
Aidan's pulse thundered in his ears. "Maybe I would."
The old man hesitated before sighing in resignation. He muttered something under his breath before disappearing into another room. When he returned, he carried an old leather-bound book, its cover cracked with age. Strange engravings adorned the surface, symbols Aidan had never seen before.
He placed the book on the coffee table with a heavy thud, flipping through its yellowed pages until he landed on a specific one.
Aidan leaned forward, eyes scanning the page—and immediately regretted it.
The illustration showed a creature. Not just any creature—a demon. Its sharp claws dug into the soft, bare flesh of a woman beneath it, one hand wrapped around her throat in a brutal grip, while the other cupped her breast possessively. And—Jesus Christ—its mouth was between her legs.
Aidan's face ignited.
But unlike the skeletal, malnourished thing in Aidan's photo, this one was beautiful. Sinfully beautiful.
Its body was sculpted like a statue, muscles carved with inhuman perfection, skin smooth and dark like polished obsidian. Enormous horns curled from its head, sharp and wicked, framing a face both ethereal and terrifying. Its wings stretched wide, leathery and powerful, the long, coiling tail curling around the leg of the woman beneath it.
And her—the woman—she wasn't struggling. She should have been.
But her head was tilted back, lips parted in a silent moan, her body arching into the creature's grasp.
All the blood that had drained from his face moments ago came rushing back full force. He coughed, nearly dropping his phone as he tore his gaze away from the page.
"What the hell is this?" he sputtered, equal parts horrified and mortified.
Mr. Albu didn't look amused.
"This," he said, pointing to the demon in the illustration, "is an incubus. A demon of sorts."
Aidan's head snapped up, eyes wide with shock. "An incubus?"
What the fuck had he gotten himself into?
"That man you saw outside," Mr. Albu continued, voice low and grave, "is the same kind of creature."
Aidan's mouth felt dry.
"How did you even find him?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The old man's expression darkened. He closed the book with a snap and leaned back in his chair, as if suddenly exhausted.
"It's a long story."
"I am all ears," Aidan said, even though his heart thuded with fear.
"You really want to know?"
Aidan swallowed and nodded.
Mr. Albu sighed. "Fine. Sit tight, boy. I'll tell you everything."
He closed the book with a heavy thud, dust rising from its ancient pages.
"But once you hear the truth," he warned, voice low and foreboding, "you'll wish you never asked."