Devil's Whisper Chapter 95: Between the Realms

Kate got out of the car, slamming the door behind her as she walked briskly toward the police station. She was determined, focused, and there was something heavy on her mind that she needed to discuss. As she entered the station, the cool, sterile air hit her face, and she spotted the police sergeant near the front desk. Without hesitation, she approached him.

“Where’s Jason?” she asked, her voice firm but with an undercurrent of urgency that even the sergeant didn’t miss.

He glanced up at her, his expression a mask of indifference. But something in his eyes flickered for just a moment, an acknowledgment of the gravity in her tone. He nodded toward the back of the station. “He should be in the backyard.”

Kate didn’t waste another second. Without a word, she turned sharply on her heel and made her way through the station, her boots clicking against the hard linoleum floor. Her strides were long and deliberate, the air around her thick with something unspoken. As she reached the back door, she opened it and stepped into the small courtyard beyond.

The backyard of the police station was an open, uninspiring space, almost like an afterthought in the design of the building. It had a cold, marbled floor, cracked and faded in places, as though time had worn it down, as though time had given up on trying to make it anything more than it was. The air was still, heavy with the scent of cigarette smoke that lingered in the atmosphere, clinging to everything like a stubborn memory.

Kate spotted him almost immediately. Jason sat slouched in the far corner, his frame dwarfing one of the rickety chairs. His long legs stretched out lazily, one foot planted firmly on the floor, the other propped up on the seat beside him in a casual sprawl. His eyes were fixed on some indistinct point in the distance, unblinking, lost in a reverie—or perhaps wrestling with a thought, a memory, that danced just beyond his grasp. A cigarette dangled loosely from his fingers, its glowing embers casting a faint orange hue that flickered against the pale, overcast light of the day, painting fleeting shadows across his weathered features.

Pulling a chair from the side, she dragged it over and sat down directly in front of him, the sharp sound of metal grinding against stone slicing through the quiet like a blade. She met his gaze, and for a fleeting moment, neither of them spoke—an unspoken current crackling between them, heavy with questions and unspoken emotions.

“I just met with the priest,” Kate said, her voice cutting through the silence. It was calm, controlled, but there was an edge to it—a quiet intensity that Jason couldn’t ignore.

Jason raised an eyebrow, his fingers tightening slightly around the cigarette as he brought it to his lips for a slow, deliberate drag. Smoke curled upward in lazy tendrils, dissipating into the air as he exhaled.

“Which priest?” he asked, stubbing out the cigarette in the dented ashtray beside him. The embers hissed and died under his press, and he turned his full focus to her, his hazel eyes narrowing with a mix of curiosity and something sharper—concern, perhaps, or unease.

“The priest of the Yarrabura tribe.”

Jason’s expression shifted subtly at the mention of the tribe, a flicker of recognition crossing his rugged features. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, a shadow of hurt darted through his eyes. He’d known she might go there—he’d even suggested it in passing—but the realization that she’d ventured into that dangerous territory alone, without so much as a word to him, stung more than he cared to admit.

Does she not trust me enough? The thought gnawed at him, a quiet ache blooming in his chest. Or has she never trusted me at all? He shoved the feeling down, burying it beneath the practiced calm he’d honed over years on the force.

“Oh,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “That tribe is quite exclusive. Are you okay?”

“Yes, thanks for asking.” Kate’s eyes lingered on him, searching his face for a moment before a soft, unexpected chuckle escaped her lips, breaking the tension like a crack in a dam. “I’m sorry, officer. I went there without you. But it doesn’t mean I don’t like having you around—I just wanted to solve this case so badly, and you had things to investigate here at the station, right?”

“W-what!”

Jason’s face flushed, a sudden burst of red creeping up his neck as her words caught him off guard. She’d seen right through him—his hurt, his unspoken questions—and it left him flustered, exposed. He fumbled for the cigarette pack in his pocket, craving the distraction, only to remember he’d just extinguished his last one.

“Yes, I do have business,” he stammered, trying to regain his footing, though the heat in his cheeks betrayed him.

“I’ll ask about your progress later,” Kate said, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she watched his reaction.

She found a strange comfort in Jason’s transparency—unlike Samuel, he never hid behind a mask. There were no polished excuses, no slippery deflections. Jason was an open book, trustworthy to a fault, and it made her ache with a pang of regret. If only Samuel could be like him, she thought bitterly, he’d never have anything to hide. The comparison stung, sharpening the edges of her lingering doubts about her fiancé.

Her eyes darkened, a shadow passing over her features as her thoughts turned inward. Jason, who’d been watching her intently, caught the shift immediately. He was baffled by it—thrilled, in a quiet corner of his heart, by her earlier apology, but now unsettled by the sudden weight in her gaze.

The case, he told himself, grasping for the obvious explanation. Of course, it’s the case. He fought to keep his emotions in check, to maintain the steady demeanor he relied on, but it was growing harder with every second. He needed to know what she’d uncovered—whether she was facing something real, something ancient and malevolent, or if her mind was fraying under the strain.

More than that, he needed to know if she was in danger. And, if he was honest, a spark of curiosity burned within him too—what had she learned that might finally crack this sprawling web of mysteries wide open?

“And what did he tell you?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, his voice low but insistent.

Kate mirrored his movement, closing the small distance between them as her face grew deadly serious. Each word she spoke seemed to carry a gravity that pressed down on the air around them.

“He told me that I’m seeing Baphomet.”

Jason froze, the name hitting him like a punch to the gut.

A devil? Is she serious?

His mind reeled, images of horned figures and blood-soaked rituals flashing unbidden before his eyes. He forced himself to stay calm, to keep his expression neutral, even as his pulse hammered in his ears and a flood of possibilities—each more dangerous than the last—raced through his thoughts.

“Are you sure?”