My Evil Eye
MY EVIL EYE
A.L. HAWKE
Copyright © 2022 by A.L. Hawke
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All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by reviewers who may quote brief passages for a review. For permission requests, please write to:
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A.L. Hawke
P.O. Box 2253
Mission Viejo, CA 92690
Email correspondence: contact@alhawke.com
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ISBN: 978-1-953919-20-5 (paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-953919-19-9 (ebook)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022946454
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This is a work of fiction. It comes directly from the author’s imagination. This includes names, characters, places, and incidents. Any public names are used solely for creative purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to companies, institutions or locales is entirely coincidental or accidental.
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Line edited by Stephanie Marshall Ward
Proofread by Alexa B., alexabooks.wixsite.com/authors
Cover © 2022 by Regina Wamba of MaeIDesign.com
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Published in the United States of America in October, 2022
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Learn more about A.L. Hawke at www.alhawke.com
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
1. Fugu Time
2. Cora
3. Laying Low
4. Medusa
5. My Cell
6. The Alcove
7. The Guest
8. Toronto
9. Prophecy
10. My Relics
11. The Guardian
12. The Snake Hole
13. My End
14. Unhinged
15. Rage
16. The Beach
17. Embrace
18. Breakfast By Candlelight
19. My Guest
20. Having Fun
21. The One
22. Morning, For Real
23. Pallas
24. Confession
25. Athenian Justice
26. The Bastard
27. The Doctor
28. Surgery
29. The Protector
30. Fangs Sometimes Get In My Way
31. Bye
32. You
Also by A.L. Hawke
Parting Words
Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
FUGU TIME
They always look at me funny. Whenever I roll my cart down the aisles shelving books, readjusting my glasses over my nose, or even just typing on the computer, boys look at me weird. Somehow they know I don’t quite fit in. I know. I don’t. But you know, to monsters, it’s the normal people that are the weirdos.
There’s one now. Look at him. He’s just leaning against a wall with his sweaty armpit over the nose of a poor blonde in a cute sky-blue university sweater who’s trying to study. She doesn’t look like the type that normally studies—neither does the jock—but this is dead week, when students actually have to. She’s trying to humor him by looking up and smiling, but I know she really wants him to leave her alone.
Don’t look at him. Forget about him.
I shake my head and shelve a heavy textbook.
I’m in the main hall of Sunland University’s library. It’s a grand retro-nineteenth-century hall with loads of walnut columns and bookshelves and a vaulted dome ceiling. On one side is a waterfall. Yeah, an actual waterfall. And they have plants surrounding it, which I love because with the lighting and foliage, it makes me feel I’m outdoors and it’s daytime. I like to read here late at night when I finish work early. On the other side of the hall is a bunch of offices behind windowed walls. Everything’s lit by modern-looking chandeliers.
Shit, there’s another creep bugging the girl. This ape won’t stop fucking slapping her shoulder. I always perk up when guys act like this. I was violated in Sarpedon eons ago, you know. Even a little playing around is not okay.
Hey, don’t look at me. Don’t do that!
What a bunch of assholes.
Calm down, Gorgi.
Well… Don’t fucking look at me!
He turns. Then he leans over and whispers something to her. I move my wigglies back from my ear to snoop.
“Come on. You want the stuff or not?”
“Give it to me or just leave me alone, Carl.”
The guy standing over her looks right at me.
Keep your eyes off me!
My gaze is deadly, you know. It’s like Fugu. Do you know what Fugu is? Fugu in Japanese translates to “fortune.” It’s the puffer fish. The puffer fish is a delicacy that tastes wonderful but, if not prepared just right, the poison doesn’t give you good fortune. I’ve tried Fugu. It’s not that great, even when prepared right. I’ve had it prepared wrong too. (It tastes the same, by the way.) Anyway, my eyes are like Fugu. They lure you in, entice you, but if you enjoy too much…bye, bye. Hey, what a coincidence—I’m shelving a book on Japanese cuisine.
“Excuse me?” Someone is tapping on my shoulder.
I whirl around. Being an A+ apex predator, it’s rare that someone sneaks up on me, but I was distracted by the jerks.
“Can you help me with my book search?” he asks.
It’s this tall guy with wavy golden hair thrown to the side. His face is a little sunburnt. He’s wearing a button-down and baggy pants. He’s got broad shoulders and strong arms. He’s grinning. And he’s cut and he’s, uh, hmm, hot.
Oops. He opens his eyes wide. Did he see my cursed eyes? No, he’s looking over at those two assholes laughing at the girl.
“I—” He coughs. “I figured you work here?”
“I do,” I say, looking down at the floor.
“Can you help me? I’m in this Western Civ class, and the professor’s asking for us to check out a book. I think she thinks it’s like an inside joke. I mean, who checks out books at a library anymore when there’s the web? No one. It’s kinda stupid.”
“There’s lots of stuff in books you can’t find online.”
“Oh,” he says, looking flustered. “Of course, a librarian would say that.” He stops talking. I think it’s because I’m staring at the ground.
Yep, he leans down to look into my eyes. I turn away.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod. But I don’t look at him. I want to. I really do. I already caught a glimpse of his strong jawline, five o’clock shadow, perfect teeth, and kind smile.
“I was just saying we could google it,” he continues, rubbing his neck. “But the professor wants us to use the library. I’ve seen you working here before. You’re one of the librarians. Right?”
“Yes.”
He smiles again. He has such a cute smile. It’s telling me he’s not really here to search for books, you know.
Shit, did he catch a glimpse of my Fugu? Is that it? I wear these thick spectacles with special lenses to hide my golden gems, but they’re not perfect. If a guy gazes straight into my eyes, it’s Fugu time. Particularly if my gold gems turn green. Sometimes somebody catches a glimpse from the side. Many years ago, I went to an optician to fit me with trick glasses that would be clear for me but blurry straight on for wandering eyes. I’ve tried lots of ways to hide my cursed eyes. Opaque shades work too, but Charlie, he’s my boss, wouldn’t take kindly to his librarians wearing sunglasses at work.
“Can you help me?” Oh yeah, the blond guy’s still talking to me.
He follows me down three steps into another part of the library I love, wit
h the gorgeous fountain I was talking about. The fountain has lovely trickling water. It’s made of white stone and, I mean, it’s not the Trevi Fountain, more of a tacky bozzetto, but I absolutely adore it. It was here decades ago when I applied for the job. I think it’s what sold me. And tables circle the fountain, with computers where you can search for stuff. Students also sit on the three steps, but they’re nearly always empty when I work here at night.
I sit down in front of a large antique monitor.
“What would you like to search for?” My eyes are focused on the screen.
His sunburnt hand is beside mine. Mine, peeping out from my ugly thick furry brown sweater, hovering over the keyboard, is tanned, always the same olive color, sun exposure or not. I don’t burn—or, when I do, it just goes back to the same color. He has strong hands. Cute, nicely groomed strong man hands.
“Genghis Khan,” he says, leaning over my shoulder.
“Genghis Khan,” I say, typing fast. “This is similar to a google search. It’s easy. You just type your word. You get the location here and the ISBN. Get it?”
“What’s an ISBN?”
“It’s an identifier. All books have them.”
I feel tingles sitting near him. And I hear his heart jump a little. And his scent, his essence is... like …
“Excuse me for not knowing what an ISBN is,” he quips.
“Well…” I brush my bangs from my eyes with a smile. “Once you find the location, you can look for it by subject. We use the Library of Congress classification system here, not the Dewey Decimal. See, this shows a map of our library and where each category of books is shelved. And here’s a call number for a book. Easy, right?”
“Easy for you.”
He is staring at my profile. I turn a little so he doesn’t see my eyes.
“You really like this stuff, don’t you?” he asks.
“I love books.”
“Come on!” snaps one of the meatheads in a forced whisper. I had totally forgotten about them. “Hand it over or forget the whole thing.”
“Just leave her alone, Carl.”
“Let me go. Here’s the money.”
Let me go?!
I look up. I can’t see anything past the fountain, but I can smell them. With my nose, I sense a hand yanking his prey’s arm. My wigglies fight to break out from their cage in my hair. I press down on my bun. Then I glance back at the boy beside me. He’s none the wiser, but he’s squinting at me.
“Genghis Khan?” he asks, raising his brow.
“Oh.” I start typing fast again. “Here’s a directory of over twenty books on the subject. Just go to the third floor and find this section.” I tap the screen. “I’ll print out a list of call numbers for your report.”
I quickly get up, looking toward the commotion.
“Can you show me the location upstairs?”
“What?” I ask, turning back to him with a laugh. “It’s easy.”
“Easy for you.”
“Let me go! Where are you taking me!”
That fucker is tugging her arm! Can you believe this? That fucking dick is pulling her! I sense the whole building like a green schemata in my mind. And the angrier I get the clearer the image becomes.
I’ve had enough. I rush up the steps from the fountain back up to the main hall.
“Oh…well, thanks,” blurts the student.
“Let me go, Carl!”
Let me go?!
I hear the struggle through the walls. They’ve left the main hall. No one else has any idea this commotion is going on. The struggle isn’t loud; it’s more like forced whispers. But the girl’s panic rings in my ears.
When I was in Sarpedon, I was tricked by the slick, sugary tongue of Poseidon. And the horror began when the god grabbed my wrist. It’s been thousands of years, but as the girl is dragged, I feel her pain as if he’s dragging me by the arm.
I need to calm down. I can’t change in front of these kids.
But he touched her. He’s forcing her!
My hair is aching to escape its hair tie. My incisors are digging into my lower lip. I grasp my hands tightly, trying to distract myself, telling myself not to change—not to do that in front of all these students. But I want to hurt him.
I hear a body being thrown against a wall. It’s a faint sound. My eyes are burning like green flashlights through my spectacles. Bright emerald. I shade my eyes as I break out into a run.
I hear a shirt tear. And she cries out as he twists her arm again.
Oh, you going to do that? Huh? Okay, you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to dislocate your wrist, pull your hand from its socket, and stuff it down your motherfucking throat!
I rush down a hallway that connects the library to a nearby lecture building. A girl by the library exit, who’s standing by a table reading, stares up at me as I sprint past her. Her human ears probably don’t hear the struggle.
Everything turns dark and empty as I enter the corridor into the lecture hall. I follow their scent into another hallway. Then one more turn. And then…
I throw open the door to a boy’s bathroom. It’s empty. But there’s movement in one of the stalls. I rush over and pull at the stall door. It’s locked. I easily break the metal door open.
The asshole has the girl bent over facing the toilet. He doesn’t even stop groping her—he’s locked in predatory mode. Her shirt is torn, revealing bare breasts, and he’s dropped his pants. He looks over his shoulder. Actually, they both do.
What a sight I must be. I’m not covering my green eyes anymore. Their bodies are illuminated in green light.
“Go,” I say to the girl. “Get out of here.”
The girl nods, clutching her torn shirt over her chest. She runs past me to the exit in tears. I turn to the creep. He’s such a pompous ass that he faces me, still bathed in green light, with his cock wagging.
I’m feeling pain in my wrist. Is it my ancient memory of Greece? Or is it my empathy for the girl?
She’s gone. It’s over. Just let him go.
Uh… Nuh-uh.
I smile lasciviously at the boy. I remove my ugly brown sweater. I take off my shirt and bra and lay them gently by the sink. I take my time getting naked in front of him. Let him relish my poison. He’s frozen after seeing my eyes.
“Is this what you wanted?” I ask. I slowly back away. “A nude girl?”
He gazes at my body with wide eyes. He doesn’t seem to care that I look like a demon from hell right now, with fangs, sharp fingernails, and green, glowing eyes. He wants a taste of my body. A taste of my delicious Fugu. And, boy, is he gonna get it.
His body, though frozen, trembles.
“Who are you?” he asks, struggling to move his mouth. “The librarian?”
“I’m the devil.”
I walk up to his ear and lick it. Then I brush my palm along his bushy beard and brush my tits against his side. “You want to sin? Sin with me. I’m not innocent. I can show you a good time.”
“Sure,” he purrs.
I run my hand along his shirt. His hands are weak, so I help him lift it. Then my hand runs over the bulges of his huge pecs. I pull the pants, still bunched around his ankles, away from his feet. Now he’s naked and dirty, just like the filthy motherfucker he is.
But I freeze for a moment. I clutch my head in my hand… What am I doing? The girl’s gone. She’s safe. I can just stop. Right?
NO! He was bending her over like a dog! You gonna let a man do that? After all that’s happened to you?
I run my lips along his. Then I slowly wrap my fingers around his wrist. I twist. I could yank his hand right off with one more turn. Oh, it’d be so easy.
Cut it off and stuff it down his motherfucking throat!
No. I… I can’t do that.
He winces and writhes as I twist. Then he shrieks. His body jerks to nurse his injured hand, but he can barely move.
“Why’d you do that?” he asks.
I giggle.
“
What’s your name?”
“Medusa.”
My tongue comes out, forked like a snake’s tongue, at the utterance of my ancient name. It licks his cheek and ear. But my long serpent tongue doesn’t bother him the slightest bit. I reach back with my free hand, as I continue to stroke his cheek with the other, and finally free the bun from my head.
Oh, what a relief! As the bun unfolds, my black hair falls, freeing my friends, and the snakes thicken, slithering and slinking over my face. I take a deep breath as my beasties are let loose. Some of the black snakes run along his face. A couple even loop around his neck. I could choke and suffocate him. I’ve done it before. He’s already too far gone to resist.
I should just snap his neck and be done with him.
No. Tease him. Make sure he’s just conscious enough to feel the pain he brought her.
“You naughty, naughty boy,” I whisper in his ear. I run my forked tongue along his ear. “How could you do that to an innocent girl?”
“Oh, she’s not innocent,” he says with a chuckle. My forked tongue enters his mouth and wraps around his tongue. I could constrict it and remove it.
Don’t. Not yet. Play with him first.
I pull back from his lips, but it takes all my will to not pull out a chunk of his face.
“She was cheating on me,” he says.
“Cheating on you? A virile young man? I don’t believe it. So you were going to force a fuck?” At the word fuck his body shakes. “Because she deserved it?”