Mephisto spread his arms wide as they neared the curb, his smirk self-satisfied and delighted.
"I've found us a chariot," he declared, voice smooth and saccharine, like he had gifted them a limousine instead of—
A city bus.
Marisol hesitated.
The rusted vehicle groaned at the intersection, headlights flickering in the dim morning light. The scent of damp fabric, gasoline, and rusting metal seeped through the open doors. The driver turned toward them, his eyes glowing red as he waved—too casual. In the rearview mirror, his gaze lingered. Unblinking. Unnatural.
Mephisto tilted his head slightly, watching her reaction like an entertained parent.
Eri's lips thinned. "We should stick to the plan."
"The plan?" Mephisto grinned, his fangs peeking slightly. "This was the plan, my queen."
Eri dug her nails into her forearm.
She knew Mephisto's idea of transportation was never going to be normal. But this—
This was excessive. Even for him.
Marisol's shadow cat stirred weakly beneath her, its inky form barely flickering, curled deep within the darkness she cast on the wet pavement. It hadn't made a sound since Eri's roots had lashed it aside.
Marisol pressed her lips together and rested her hands on her hips. She hated this.
Eri, tense beside her, still stepped forward first.
Marisol followed.
The moment she stepped inside, she felt it.
The weight of every single turned passenger.
They didn't look up. Didn't speak. Only smiled—wide, too wide—like their faces had been stretched into permanent grins. But they were aware of her.
Marisol exhaled slowly and slid into a seat near the front. The air inside was thick, humid, the faint scent of iron beneath the dampness of the rain. She could see it now—small, sporadic splatters of blood on the poles and fabric.
This wasn't just a ride.
This was a territory.
Mephisto's own personal domain.
And she hated it.
She hated the silence.
She hated their presence.
Her hands twitched against her lap, fingers fidgeting.
She wished she had the cat with her.
She wished—
Warmth.
She blinked.
Something pressed against her leg.
She glanced down.
A shadow took shape beside her, curling at her feet.
Not the cat.
Something bigger.
A dog.
No—something canine in nature, but feral, monstrous. Its crimson-glowing eyes stared up at her, sharp and alert, like they could see through her pulse. Yet—
It pressed its head against her palm.
Nudging for comfort.
Like it knew.
Like it understood.
Marisol swallowed hard.
Slowly, she ran her fingers through its inky fur.
It felt real. Warm. Solid.
She inhaled. The tension in her shoulders loosened slightly.
Eri watched from beside her.
Mephisto, leaning lazily against a pole, chuckled under his breath.
Marisol didn't look at him.
She was still running her fingers through the shadow-dog's fur, trying to ignore the full bus of silent, unnatural people.
The vehicle rumbled forward, tires splashing through shallow puddles.
Eri turned toward Mephisto, her voice low. Concerned.
"This isn't safe."
Mephisto lifted a brow. "We're surrounded by my own servants. What's unsafe about that?"
Eri stared at him.
"We should be finding a new place to train her."
Mephisto sighed dramatically.
"You worry too much."
Eri's fingers tightened against the edge of her seat.
She hadn't told him about the black flower or the petal that faded away.
She hadn't told him about Marisol absorbing her roots.
She hadn't told him that for the first time—she was losing track of what was supposed to happen.
And she hated it.
The bus slowed.
Rain fell again, streaking down the glass.
The doors groaned open.
Two figures stepped inside.
At first glance, they seemed normal.
Damp hoodies. Hands tucked in their pockets. Eyes hidden beneath thick black sunglasses.
But Marisol felt it immediately.
A cold, creeping sensation.
Like Mephisto's enforcers.
Like something foreign to this world.
Mephisto's smirk remained, but his gaze sharpened.
The two enforcers moved toward him, heads slightly bowed.
"Lord Mephisto," one murmured.
The other nodded, their voice just as low.
"We welcome you for our big brother, Carlos."
Marisol tensed.
She couldn't place why.
But she didn't like them.
Eri sat rigid, her eyes narrowing slightly.
Mephisto merely lifted a brow. "Oh? And why can't he greet me himself like he was told?"
One of them shifted slightly, placing a careful foot near the bus doors.
"Carlos extends his gratitude," the first one said.
The second moved closer.
Mephisto's fingers twitched.
"...But he cannot comply."
It happened fast.
A fist cracked against Mephisto's jaw.
And then—
A hand wrenched Marisol from her seat.
His grip clamped tight around her arm, yanking her toward the open door.
She barely had time to process it before she reacted.
She didn't know how.
Didn't know why.
But she felt it.
Something releasing within her.
A voice without words, calling from the depths of her mind.
A shadow leapt.
The dog.
It surged forward, clamping its massive jaws around the enforcer's calf.
A scream tore through the bus.
The second enforcer turned—just as two smaller shadows shot upward.
Squirrels.
They lunged straight for his face.
Their tiny claws raked into his eyes.
He screamed.
Marisol felt everything.
Felt the tearing of flesh.
Felt the shock flooding through them.
She felt their pain.
Their fear.
And her own guilt.
Was this regret?
She willed them back. The dog first, then the squirrels. They resisted at first, lingering in the bloodied air like they didn't want to leave.
Like they still wanted to fight.
But she wasn't ready for that.
Not yet.
Eri moved.
Thorns erupted from her palm, piercing the enforcer's shadow.
He froze.
His muscles locked. His face contorted in agony.
The other enforcers—Mephisto's servants—moved swiftly, restraining the second attacker.
Mephisto, for the first time, wasn't smiling.
He watched, eyes cold, as the restrained enforcer thrashed.
"Do you serve me?" Mephisto mused.
The enforcer spat blood. "We only answer to our savior. Our big brother."
Mephisto sighed.
"Shame."
Then—
With a casual flick of his wrist—
A blade of darkness materialized.
The enforcer's struggle halted. A flicker of something—fear—flashed in his ruined eyes.
And then—
The slice was effortless.
His head hit the floor before the body realized it had been severed.
A wet thud.
Silence.
Marisol's breath came in short, sharp bursts. Adrenaline surged through her veins, each heartbeat slamming against her ribs. The sound of her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out everything else.
Mephisto flicked his fingers, shedding black ichor from the blade. His smirk had returned, but there was something hollow beneath it.
He turned toward the remaining enforcer, still frozen in Eri's thorns.
"Well?" Mephisto drawled, cocking his head. "What was your next brilliant move?"
The enforcer swallowed hard.
Eri watched Mephisto closely.
She had seen him do this before. Countless times. But there was something about the way he did it now—
So clean. So casual.
Like a reflex.
The bus was silent.
Eri's gaze flickered toward Mephisto again.
There was no hesitation in him.
He wasn't even bothered.
She didn't know why she expected anything different.
But still—
She loathed it.
Mephisto stepped forward, gripping the final enforcer's chin. He lifted his face, studying him.
A heartbeat of tension.
And then—
Mephisto smiled.
A lazy, almost warm expression.
"I think I'll make you useful," he murmured, dragging a clawed nail along the enforcer's throat. "For now."
The enforcer flinched
Eri stared at Marisol.
Marisol was still holding herself together.
Her shadows had returned to her, slinking beneath her feet.
But her eyes.
Something about them had changed.
For the first time, Eri wondered—
If protecting her was even possible.