Kinktober Fic Challenge Day 31: Priest/demon (broadly interpreted)

Overwatch, Reaper76

Another one that is safe for work–more spooky than sexy.  Thanks to @joasakura once again for the prompt!

***

It’s
an old game, but they still remember those in farm country: eat an
apple by candlelight before a mirror at midnight to see the face of your
destined lover reflected back at you.  Jack thinks they’re defining
‘midnight’ pretty liberally, but they’re a pack of teenagers at a
Halloween party.  The fun is in the superstitious thrill, and the tall
tales they spin for each other about what they supposedly saw.  Maura,
who hadn’t been paying attention when the game was laid out, tried to
tell them all she’d just seen Bloody Mary.

“Come on, Jack, it’s your turn!”

He
takes the apple that’s pushed into his hand and takes his place before
the mirror.  Takes a moment to position himself so the candlelight
strikes his face to best effect, because what’s the point if he’s not
going to create an atmosphere?  Besides, the little gullible corner of
his mind that’s not completely convinced this won’t work suggests that
he look his best just in case his lover actually does turn up.

He
can barely see any of the others in the dark behind him.  They’re all
standing back against the wall, because there’s no mood killer like
having all your stupid friends breathing down your neck when you’re
trying to do something spooky and magical.

He shuffles his feet a
bit, tries to work himself into a mood where eating an apple feels like a
prelude to something instead of a ridiculous anti-climax, and then
takes a bite.

There’s a hush, just like they have every time, as
everyone in the room holds their breath, just like they have every time.
 It kind of works, though; almost despite himself, Jack feels that
creeping tingle of anticipation as they all wait together for something
to happen.

When he sees movement behind him in the reflection, he
figures it’s Josie or David, shifting against the back wall.  Then he
realizes he can’t see anything in the mirror, except his own face.  

And
then he can:  a broad-shouldered, shadowy man resolves like smoke
behind his left shoulder, white skull mask floating like a beacon in the
candlelight.  Jack flinches, wide-eyed, as gleaming claws come up to
stroke his hair.  He’d swear he can feel their cold points as they drift
around and down to cup the side of his face.

In his mind, Jack
begs it to stop as it reaches up with its other hand to pull its mask
off.  A blurred, twisted black oil slick of a face, a curve of
recognizable cheekbone and a streak of jagged white that might be bone
or teeth.  It presses a tender, freezing kiss to his jaw, inhuman red
eyes meeting his in the mirror with intimate confidence, like it saw
right to the center of him years ago and knows what it’ll find there.

And then it’s gone, and he’s stumbling back from the mirror, gasping like he’s just been strangled.

There’s
an awed hush, and then the questions.  “Holy shit, Jack, what did you
see?”  Josie sounds so impressed, like the shock that’s rocking through
him is a party trick for her entertainment.  The other kids crowd
around, eager to hear the punchline.  Josie’s question gets repeated
from a few mouths before Jack can manage to find his voice.

“Nothing,” he says, pushing hands and bodies away so he can get to the door.  “I didn’t see anything.”

That face keeps him company in his dreams for a long, long time.

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