My Demonic Ghost: Banished Spirits by Jacinta Maree

you know each other?”
    “What do you think?” I paused for a moment, whipping my head from Lock to Elyograg, then back to Lock again.  Before I could open my mouth to answer, Elyograg stiffened and Lock jerked his neck up, all of this so subtle and swift that it looked as though they moved in sync.
    “I am not here on business, Banished.” Elyograg smiled and bowed his head gently, muffling a chuckle, before redirecting his eyes up towards me. He kept them there for a while and I stared back, fighting the urge to swoon in admiration.
    “Your kind is always on business!”
    “So, this is your Host? How unfortunate for you both.” Host, was that my name now? “I’m sorry that you got mixed up in this predicament, but I assure you I am not here to harm either of you. My real name is Gargoyle, and it is my purpose to collect the…” He searched the sky for a better suited word, “ misguided souls and retrieve them back to their appropriate places.” Lock growled at the mention of his ‘appropriate’ place. We all knew what he meant, but no one was going to utter the word.
    ”Then what are you doing here?” I asked.
    “I owed a debt…” Gargoyle sneered and took a step forward. A beam of white light broke through the soft string of grey clouds crossing the sky, sprinkling down on top of the garden, spreading its wings and coating Gargoyle and the trees like a second layer of skin. Where the light stroked across Gargoyle’s form, a harsher glowing white started to foam and bounce off his skin, flickering like the reflection off a metallic plate, shifting the beams with every angle you tilt it.
    As the sun kept crawling, slowly and peacefully, it engulfed his entire body so the white glow became an outer layer of cloud and his heavily gelled hair softened to feathers, bouncing with harsh red neon. His eyes heightened, just as Lock’s had been heightened in his Spirit form, into vibrant living eyes, dancing with a wealth of gold and small hints of oak wood. They weren’t wild like Lock’s, capturing and striking, able to take the breath out of you and knock you on your back; instead these eyes melted your face and swallowed you into a heavenly sense of security, so blissful and hopeful that you wanted to embrace them fully, not poke at their sharp edges.
    I’d been so distracted that I hadn’t noticed how the distance between us had been shortened by Gargoyle’s quick steps. Lock had noticed though. He reacted by tensing his entire body and trembling, imagining how he would’ve loved to tackle Gargoyle so ferociously that his spine would snap. Gargoyle ignored Lock’s hostile stance and stood within metres of the front door. I took a step back, cautiously blinking my eyes twice, clearing the haze away.
    “Hey!” Lock abruptly barked, “Step back, Hunter!”
    Hunter? I had pictured Hunters to be older, much older, tough skinned men dressed in heavy cloaks and weapons strapped across their belts. The Hunters, they were supposed to be the bad guys, the one with thick, stubbly beards, controlling the Goons with whips and lashes. Why did he look like the good guy?
    “Little spirit, you are no threat to me in that state; surely you know that as well as I do.” Gargoyle grinned and reached his hand out, aiming for Lock’s throat. But his hand then dipped down even further and lightly touched mine, the soft ribbon of his fingers caressing my knuckles, leaving a trail of tinging warmth bubbling under my skin.
    Lock grinned at the extended hand. Before Gargoyle’s fingers could fully ring around my own, I snapped my hand back, but not before Lock swung outwards with his own, the power so rapid it could’ve broken his wrist as he knocked Gargoyle’s shoulder away. 
    “Don’t get cocky, Hunter.” Gargoyle’s smile dropped as he stumbled onto his back foot. Lock leaned in closer, his voice deep with rage, “And don’t you dare touch what’s mine ever again.”
    My cheeks burned as Gargoyle turned