Lust's Target

Curiosity got the best of her.

She creaked the box open.

A swirling screech pushed out,

The trapped spirits were released,

Free to plague mankind—The seven curses of the Greek Pantheon.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

I wasn’t sure when I first noticed him. He sat apart from the group, his hood pulled low and his silhouette blending into the shadows. Maybe it was the way he didn’t laugh at Pedro’s jokes or the way his presence seemed to darken the space around him, pulling the light from the fire as though it were his to command.

Or maybe...it was his eyes.

The beach stretched out behind us, its vast darkness merging with the starlit sky. The rhythmic crash of the waves felt distant now, drowned out by the laughter that punctuated the atmosphere. Our group lounged in foldable chairs, either eating pizza or toasting marshmallows.

“All right, everyone.” Pedro sat on a tree stump near the campfire, his stance relaxed but commanding. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, as his sharp gaze swept over the group. “I’ve got a story for you. Might be half-true. Depends on what you’re willing to believe.”

“This better be interesting,” Zion said, slouching in his chair while nursing an energy drink. The can glistened with condensation in the firelight.

“Patience, brother. But first...” Pedro brushed sand from his shorts. “Let me remind you about the miracle of the Peterson triplets.”

A collective groan rose from the group—a testament to the number of times Pedro had narrated this particular story.

Zion muttered under his breath before bringing the can to his lips. I watched his throat move as he swallowed, trying to drown out the upcoming embarrassment.

“We weren’t born like ordinary triplets,” Pedro’s voice dripped with theatrical flair. “No, no, no. We were custom-made by fate itself; triplets from different wombs, born on the same day, and adopted by the same parents. Destiny, folks. That’s what brought us together.”

“Spare us the autobiography, Pedro,” someone called out, eliciting chuckles from the group.

Pedro ignored the jab, his grin widening. “You laugh now, but our story is motivational. From orphans to the top organizers of this school—and let’s not forget the day Penny, our old friend, decided to come to our school, making everything so much better.”

I sank deeper into my chair, the heat of the fire was nothing compared to the embarrassment burning in my cheeks. Around the circle, a few classmates shifted uncomfortably, their gazes flickering toward me. The Peterson triplets’ popularity had done wonders to soften the hostility I’d faced as a transfer student, but not everyone had forgiven my intrusion into their tight-knit group.

Helena broke the tension with a loud, exaggerated sigh. Her bored expression was emphasized by a dramatic pout.

“This is getting very tiring.” She scooted closer to Zion, her halter-neck top shifting to emphasize the swirl of her chest. She lightly touched his arm. “Don’t you think so, Zee?”

Zion blinked, completely caught off guard. “Uh, I haven’t--”

“Helena,” Pedro cut in, his voice sharp with mock irritation. He rolled his white shirt sleeves to his elbows. Besides Zion, he was the only one not in beachwear. “If you’ve got complaints, take them somewhere else.”

Helena shot him a glare, her cheeks flushing as she folded her arms. “Your stories are lame, Pedro.”

Pedro feigned a wounded expression, placing a hand over his heart. “Ouch. That hurt.”

His eyes flicked to Zion before making a face. His expression seemed to scream a statement only the two could understand.

Zion shifted uncomfortably under the silent exchange. He cleared his throat, then glanced at the hand grasping his arm. “Maybe you should go home and cool off.”

Helena’s mouth dropped as she stared in shock, her voice lowered by a hitch. “Are you kicking me out because of him?”

“You just insulted his—”

“You asshole!” she exploded, rising to her feet so fast her chair tipped over. Her hands clenched at her sides, trembling with indignation. “This is the seventh time!”

“Whoa. Calm down, woman,” Pedro tried to intervene, holding up his hands in surrender. His tone, however, was more amused than apologetic, and Helena rewarded him with a withering glare.

“Screw you all.” She whirled around, grabbing her duffel bag and coat. “This trip was boring anyway.”

Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she stomped toward the road, walking with so much pride that everyone watched in silence.

“You forgot your dignity!” Pedro called after her, and she threw him a middle finger before disappearing behind a line of trees.

As the murmurs of the group settled, Pedro clapped his hands together and turned back to the campfire, his grin still plastered on his face.

“Now, where were we? Ah, yes—the story. Isn’t that right, kitten?” He winked at me, and I groaned, hiding my face in my hands in a feeble attempt to smother my embarrassment.

Zion shifted beside me, the sole of his sandal dragging across the sand. “That nickname is too common. Try something new.”

Pedro stroked his chin in thought. “I’ll work on it.”

“Or just stick with Penny. People prefer it to Penelope,” I suggested, raising my canned drink to my lips in an effort to distract myself.

Pedro shook his head with mock disapproval. “Too boring. My brother and I need something special—our secret code. I’ll have a new name for you by the end of the week, sugar.”

I nearly choked on my drink, spluttering fruit juice. My cheeks heated, and I ran a finger through my curls, suddenly hyperaware of the curious gazes around the campfire. I sank lower in my chair, hoping to disappear.

“Hey!” someone called from across the circle. “What happened to the story?”

“Alright. I’m on it,” Pedro said with a mischievous smile. He clasped his hands together, reclaiming everyone’s attention, his voice taking on an eerie edge. “Today, I’m going to talk about Lamia. I think she’s a goddess or something. I’m not sure.”

A random girl raised her hand, but Pedro stopped her in her tracks with an outstretched hand. He released a long breath, as though already tired of the constant interruptions.

“Listen carefully, everyone.”

We all leaned forward in anticipation, waiting to hear another of Pedro’s classic campfire stories. The firelight danced across his face as he began. “She was a Libyan queen, a child of Poseidon, god of the sea. Most people would think that’s awesome, but trust me, it’s not.”

“Lamia had extravagant beauty—so much that she caught the eye of Zeus, god of the sky and one of the Big Three. In the end, the deity lay with her on multiple occasions, giving birth to many children.”

“So Zeus slept with his niece?! That’s gross but awesome.” Someone whistled and clapped.

No one joined him.

Pedro glared at the annoying lad before forcing a quick smile. “Anyway, things went downhill from there—horrific things I wouldn’t wish on my enemies. In time, Zeus’ wife, Hera, learned about their affair. She killed every last one of Lamia’s children—gruesome deaths and bloodshed that tainted her memory forever.”

The group shuddered collectively, the mood shifting as Pedro described the queen’s descent into madness. “Lamia was grief-stricken. She spent endless nights weeping over her loss. Eventually, the grief drove her mad. But Hera wasn’t done yet. She cursed Lamia, turning her into a snake-like demon with reptilian eyes that glowed in the dark. Her lower half resembled the long body of a snake, three times larger than a basilisk. And her teeth—tiny, sharp, prickly teeth that could tear through flesh.”

As Pedro spoke, I glanced around the group, my gaze catching on the figure sitting slightly apart from the others. His long fingers idly traced patterns in the sand, as though lost in thought. Something about him felt... off. I furrowed my eyebrows, my curiosity piqued.

When he looked up, his eyes caught the firelight, flashing an unnatural green. My pulse quickened. I had never seen him before.

He wasn’t part of our class.

“Burned by the memory of her children,” Pedro droned on. His voice dropped into a hushed, ominous tone. “Lamia would disguise herself as a human and lure children into her lair—a rocky cave by the beach. That’s where she would reveal her true form: a sea creature thirsty for blood.”

I couldn’t look away from the boy in the hoodie. His cheekbones were high, framing thin lips. His head tilted slightly, revealing a glimpse of silky black hair beneath the hood. No one seemed to notice him or cast curious glances his way. It was as if he wasn’t there.

He leaned back against his chair, and for a moment, I swore his pupils turned thin and cat-like.

The fire flared suddenly and his green eyes snapped to mine. I stilled, my heart thundering in my chest. He watched me for a second before his lips curled into a smirk. They moved, forming words I couldn’t hear or recognize. His odd behaviour chilled my body to the bone, compelling me to come closer. To close the distance.

The ocean roared behind us, its waves crashing against the rocks. The world grew colder despite the fire’s warmth. Everything sounded distant, muffled, as though the air had thickened and grown heavy.

“As humans, we must be careful...” Pedro’s words came faintly through the haze. The fire sputtered weakly, its orange glow fading. Shadows stretched across the beach as the night closed in, dousing everything except for two green irises.

"Because monsters always hide in plain sight.”