The smoke rose in thin, curling wisps, faintly smelling of burnt sage and iron.
Neil hissed under his breath as he rubbed the thick grey paste into the claw wound on his shoulder. The mixture sizzled against his skin like water on a hot pan, sending up little tendrils of smoke that drifted into the cool morning air. The pain was sharp at first, a white-hot sting that made his muscles tighten—but then it faded, replaced by a warm, tingling numbness.
Within seconds, the torn flesh knitted itself together. The bruised edges smoothed out, the cut sealing until only faint pink skin remained.
Neil wiped his fingers on a rag and muttered, "Still hurts like hell."
Baphi was perched on the van's hood, tail flicking lazily. "You're welcome," he said, as if he'd brewed the paste himself.
"You didn't make this," Neil shot back, pulling his shirt down over the newly healed skin.
"I found the ingredients," Baphi countered, narrowing his eyes. "Also, I provided emotional support."
Neil glanced at him flatly. "You knocked over half the herbs while chasing a moth."
The cat blinked slowly, unbothered. "Details."
Neil shook his head, stepped around to the driver's side, and climbed in. The van was old, white, and unremarkable—perfect for slipping in and out of towns without drawing too much attention. It rumbled awake on the second try, as always, the dashboard rattling faintly.
Baphi leapt into the passenger seat with practiced grace. "Village time?"
"Yeah," Neil muttered. "Might as well get paid before they start thinking the banshee was just a mass hallucination."
The road into the village wound through dense fir trees, the kind that trapped the mist low and heavy. Early sunlight filtered through the branches in weak, golden slants, and the forest floor was still slick with dew. The van's tires crunched on the gravel as they rolled downhill.
---
The village came into view like a painting easing out of fog.
It was small, maybe a few dozen buildings clustered around a central square. Most were wooden structures with peeling paint and wide porches, some still decorated with strings of last season's fairy lights. Smoke rose from a few chimneys. There was a diner, a general store, a hardware shop, and a church with a leaning steeple that looked like it hadn't heard a sermon in a decade.
People were already out despite the early hour—farmers loading up trucks, kids on bikes, a woman sweeping her porch while talking to a neighbor. When Neil's van rolled down the main street, heads turned. Conversations paused.
It wasn't fear exactly, more like wary respect.
They'd called him here. They wanted his help. But people never quite knew how to act around someone like Neil. He wasn't a priest. He wasn't a government agent. He was just… the guy you called when something screamed in the woods at night.
Baphi hopped onto the dashboard, sitting like a tiny, smug gargoyle. "Smile," he whispered. "You're among friends."
Neil didn't smile.
He parked near the diner, killed the engine, and stepped out. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of wet pine and coffee. Baphi jumped down beside him, stretching like he owned the place.
The town's mayor—or at least the man who acted like he was—approached from across the street. Broad shoulders, plaid shirt, boots that had seen real work. His beard was thick and flecked with grey.
"Morning," the man said, tipping his hat slightly. "You did it?"
Neil nodded. "She's gone. Banished before dawn."
The man let out a breath he'd probably been holding all night. "Thank God. Folks were gettin' real jumpy after those screams started up again."
A few townspeople gathered nearby, listening in. A teenage boy in overalls stared openly at Baphi, who stared right back with glowing slitted eyes until the boy looked away nervously.
Neil adjusted his jacket. "You said payment would be ready."
The man nodded, motioning toward the diner. "Inside. We kept our end, like always."
Neil followed him through the door, the bell chiming overhead. The diner smelled of coffee and fried eggs, and the hum of a radio played softly in the background. A few early patrons watched curiously as Neil walked by, some offering small nods, others whispering behind their mugs.
The man handed Neil a thick envelope across the counter. "Five hundred. Same as last time."
Neil took it, thumbed through the bills quickly, and slipped it into his coat. "Appreciate it."
"You're doin' us a service," the man said. "Whatever that thing was, it's been haunting these woods for decades. First time anyone's gotten rid of it for more than a week."
Baphi leapt onto a barstool, curled his tail around himself, and said loudly, "He's very talented, you know."
The man jumped back a little, nearly knocking over a cup of coffee. "It talks."
Neil didn't even look at Baphi. "Yeah. Don't ask."
---
They lingered in the diner for a few minutes, Neil drinking bad coffee while Baphi pretended to nap on the stool. People filtered in and out, some glancing their way but not daring to approach.
Eventually, an elderly woman shuffled over to Neil's table. Her back was bent with age, but her eyes were sharp. She wore a shawl over her shoulders and held a small tin of cookies.
"You're the exorcist," she said matter-of-factly.
Neil set down his cup. "Something like that."
She placed the tin in front of him. "For your trouble. My daughter couldn't sleep for a week with that wailing going on."
Neil opened his mouth to decline, but Baphi was faster. "We accept," the cat said, already pawing at the lid.
The woman startled again at the talking cat but laughed softly. "Well, aren't you something."
She leaned closer to Neil then, voice lowering just enough. "You be careful, young man. This place… it's been uneasy lately. More than usual."
Neil's brow creased slightly. "Uneasy how?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. Just… strange dreams. Folks feeling watched at night. Like the forest itself is restless."
Her words echoed what Neil and Baphi had talked about hours ago, back on the road.
Something's stirring.
He studied her face, saw the genuine worry there. "I'll keep that in mind," he said quietly.
She patted his hand like a grandmother would and left, disappearing into the growing morning crowd.
---
Neil watched her go, the weight of her words settling somewhere between his ribs. He'd been feeling it too—those faint ripples in the air, like a pressure building just beneath the surface.
Baphi cracked open the cookie tin, snagged one with his teeth, and said through a mouthful, "Told you. It's starting."
Neil didn't respond right away. He just looked out the diner window at the mist creeping between the buildings.
Something was definitely coming.
---
Neil adjusted the rearview mirror and squinted at the last of the villagers lingering in the square. A few farmers waved awkwardly, hats raised; children whispered behind their mothers' skirts, eyes wide as they watched the strange man and his talking cat leave. One or two adults exchanged glances, unsure whether to call him a blessing or a curse.
Baphi stretched on the passenger seat, tail flicking lazily as he surveyed the scene. "Look at them. Half awe, half terror. I call that a successful visit."
Neil didn't answer. His hand rested lightly on the steering wheel, though tension tightened his shoulders. He glanced once more at the square before finally putting the van into gear. Gravel crunched under the tires as they rolled down the road, leaving the misty village behind.
The forest soon closed in on either side, shadows stretching across the van like long fingers. The air smelled of damp pine and wet earth. The morning was still early; fog lingered low, curling around the trunks and across the road in ghostly tendrils.
For a while, neither spoke. The forest hummed with life, birds calling, leaves whispering, and somewhere distant, the faint echo of last night's banshee wail seemed to ripple faintly through the trees.
Neil exhaled slowly, letting his hands relax slightly. "That went… as expected," he muttered.
Baphi's ears twitched. "You mean terrifying enough to make the villagers respect us, but not terrifying enough to make you scream like a child?"
Neil's jaw tightened. "No. I mean… the whole forest thing, the feeling there's more stirring. It's not just rumors anymore."
The cat gave a low hum of agreement. "I noticed. Subtle, but persistent. Enough to make me… slightly concerned."
Neil cast him a sidelong glance. "Slightly? You were practically rolling your eyes when I mentioned it."
Baphi yawned, the faintest flicker of his glowing eyes catching the light. "I was rolling my eyes because you didn't notice it sooner. Seriously, Neil. Humans aren't blind to the supernatural anymore."
Neil's fingers gripped the wheel tighter. "Maybe not, but most still don't understand it. They panic, or worse, they run around making things worse."
"And yet here we are, helping them anyway," Baphi said softly.
Neil looked out the windshield at the mist curling along the road. "Yeah," he admitted quietly. "We are."
A long pause stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thought. Neil's eyes lingered on the horizon, the forest thinning just enough to hint at the distant hills and the next stretch of road. The air smelled faintly of smoke from a nearby chimney, a human reminder of normal life, of routine. Something he both longed for and couldn't have.
Finally, Neil broke the silence. "There's someone I want to see, nearby. Haven't seen her in… too long."
Baphi froze mid-stretch, then let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Her? Are you serious? After what happened last time?"
Neil's eyes flicked to the cat. "Yes, Baphi. I'm serious."
The cat leaned back, tail flicking, amused. "Oh, this will be fun. You remember the last time she saw you, right? That little… incident?"
Neil exhaled slowly and looked forward, keeping his jaw tight. "I remember."
"Perfect," Baphi said, smirking. "Nothing like revisiting old mistakes for a nice, awkward reunion. Honestly, I'd pay to see her reaction."
Neil ignored him, focusing on the road. His hands gripped the wheel, knuckles white. "I need to do this. It's been too long, and… well, I owe her an explanation. If nothing else."
Baphi's ears twitched. "Explanation, huh? Fancy word for 'trying not to get killed by her wrath.'"
Neil gave a short, dry laugh. "Something like that."
For a while, they drove in silence again, the van cutting through the misty morning. The tension was a quiet thing, not heavy but persistent, like the distant rumble of a storm you can't yet see. Neil's thoughts drifted, threading through the past and the present, the people he'd helped, the mistakes he'd made, and the faint stirrings in the world that signaled more than a simple haunting.
Baphi's tail brushed against the dashboard, breaking his reverie. "Don't worry, boss," the cat said quietly, voice softening. "Whatever happens, we face it together. You, me… and anyone who's foolish enough to cross our path."
Neil glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. Together."
The road stretched ahead, winding through the hills, cutting past fields and small farmhouses, and Neil felt the weight of anticipation pressing lightly on his chest. Somewhere up ahead, the town where his ex lived awaited, as well as the reckoning that would come from seeing her again.
Baphi gave a small, satisfied sigh, already thinking of the chaos to come. "This is going to be interesting," he murmured, though there was no bite in his tone. Just amusement and the quiet acknowledgment that the world didn't stop being strange just because the sun had risen.
Neil tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Interesting enough that I'm going to regret it?"
"Regret?" Baphi's eyes gleamed faintly. "Oh, my dear human… yes. Absolutely."
And with that, the van moved steadily down the road, mist curling around the tires and sunlight beginning to break through the trees. The next chapter of their journey had begun.