Let the Ghosts Laugh At Us, We'll Laugh Right Back

Alastor was still maintaining eye contact with the not-Lurid demon in the water, both grinning like psychopaths at one another from between the barrier of the water's surface. He felt Manea come closer to lean into his side, but he didn't look away from the creature in the water. His mate asked him what he was seeing and who he was speaking to, the dire brute shaking his head when she asked if it was Lurid. "No no no, turns out it's not Lurid at all, darling! It's a demon!" Or, well, he assumed the firefly thing was a demon. He wasn't really sure what else to call it. But it definitely wasn't Lurid, which was both a relief and a concern at the same time. It meant he didn't have to worry about a vengeful ex-lover coming to fuck up his life. It did also mean that he was about to experience some more paranormal shit.

As if on cue, the not-Lurid in the water's eyes flashed bright blue once more, her grin splitting wider and wider, as if the flesh of her cheeks was ripping apart to show every sharp tooth in her jaws. Alastor's brows raised, impressed by the display, and grinned back at the demon, flashing his own razor sharp teeth in reply. She started to laugh then, that maniacal, echoing laugh that grew louder and louder, far louder than the whispered voice on the wind that had drawn him here. Alastor began to laugh back, both monsters cackling at one another as dark memories and violent images flashed in his head. The faint metallic taste of blood lingered on his tongue while his brain ran through the memories of the day he'd killed every other suitor to win her over. Her scent filled his nose and her cries of passion filled his ears while memories of the night they'd shared in the cave began to replay.

That was when Alastor realized that the more memories the specter filled his head with, the more his body began to grow weaker. His paw pads felt clammy, his muscles felt weary, his legs trembled with the effort it took to remain standing. It was like the demon in the water was a succubus draining the life from him. And why did he suddenly have a craving for spaghetti?! Alastor's grin faltered, his jaws clenching hard as his breathing became heavier, like he were fighting against an unseen force. His paws clawed at the pebbly shore and a part of him felt like he was about to tumble forward into the water—right into her arms. He fought to remain strong, struggling against the pull the demon had on him. "Can't you see it?" he asked Manea through gritted teeth, unable to tear his gaze away from the sultry demon in the lake.

"Alastor Mendacium"