Chapter 1: The Girl With the Tail

I sat on the edge of my creaky bed, the scent of incense still clinging to my skin, and thought, I’m a young exorcist. The words echoed in my head, sharp and a little unreal, like a cold wind sneaking in through a cracked window.

That’s not something you shout from the rooftops in Maple Hollow—but, honestly, in a place like this, people’ll know your business anyway. Small towns, you know? Sometimes that’s a blessing. Sometimes… well, not so much.

So, get this: the prettiest woman in Maple Hollow tried to seduce me—yeah, me, of all people. Said she wanted to be my first.

She didn’t waste any time with small talk—her perfume was wildflowers with a bite of something sharper, and her eyes had that look that could make even a preacher forget his vows. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the heat in the air between us. The kind that makes your heart skip a beat—makes your brain scramble to catch up.

As things heated up between us, I felt something weird on her body.

At first, it was subtle—a brush of something soft and unexpected against my leg, like a cat sneaking under the covers. I paused, half convinced I’d imagined it, but then it was there again.

Looking down, I saw it was a tail. No way.

A real, honest-to-God tail. Not the kind you see at a Halloween party, either. My jaw nearly hit the floor. My mind raced, torn between disbelief and something like awe. I blinked, then tried to play it cool.

“You… that’s a bold choice, putting it back there.” I tried to sound breezy, but my voice came out a little shaky. I gave it a tug, but it wouldn’t budge. She frowned, pain flickering across her face, but her eyes sparkled with playful mischief.

She bit her lip, that sly grin never fading. “Forget the tail for now. Let’s focus on the main event.”

Her voice was low and teasing, like she knew something I didn’t. Something about the way she said it made my skin prickle. I hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment shift.

I grinned, feeling the tension coil tighter. “I’ve got a tail too. Wanna see it?”

As I finished speaking, eight blood-red tails unfurled from behind me. They wrapped her up, gentle but firm.

They moved with a mind of their own, cool and sinuous. For a second, her eyes widened in surprise before she laughed—a sound like wind chimes in a summer storm. The air between us crackled with something ancient and wild. In that moment, I felt alive in a way I hadn’t since my mentor died.

I’m a young exorcist. My mentor is gone. The words echoed in my chest, heavy. I swallowed, letting the ache settle for a beat before I moved on.

His absence is a hole I can’t fill, no matter how many rituals I perform or how many times I try to convince myself I’m ready to stand on my own. The world feels bigger and colder now, every shadow a little deeper.

Before he died, my mentor stripped me of all my power.

Even now, I don’t know if he did it hoping I’d leave this path, or if he had some deeper reason.

Sometimes, late at night, I replay his last words, searching for a meaning that might never come. Did he want to protect me from what he’d seen? I wish I knew. Or was it punishment for something I hadn’t understood?

But it doesn’t matter anymore.

Without my abilities, I can still help the locals—help with house blessings, track down lost pets, even pick out a burial plot or two.

It’s not glamorous work, but it keeps me busy. Folks in Maple Hollow are superstitious, and a blessing from an exorcist—even a powerless one—still means something. I’ve become the go-to for creaky floorboards, haunted attics, and missing cats. It’s honest work, and there’s comfort in that.

When my mentor was alive, he did a lot of good for the people nearby. Thanks to their support, at least I’m not starving.

They bring me casseroles in foil pans, drop off jars of pickles, and—sometimes even a few bucks tucked into my mailbox. It’s not much, but it keeps the lights on and the coffee hot. In a place like Maple Hollow, that’s as good as a safety net gets.

The town at the foot of the mountain is called Maple Hollow. Beyond Maple Hollow, if you head west and drive another thirty miles into the valley, there’s an even smaller place called Carson’s Ford.

Carson’s Ford is the kind of place that doesn’t show up on most maps. It’s got one gas station, a diner that’s only open three days a week, and a post office that doubles as a general store. Heck, folks there know each other’s dogs by name.

This time, two folks from Carson’s Ford came looking for me.

They showed up at my porch just as the sun was dipping behind the ridge, the air thick with the scent of cut grass and distant rain. Their faces were drawn, eyes hollow, as if they hadn’t slept in days. I could almost feel the exhaustion rolling off them.

As soon as they saw me, they dropped to their knees and begged, “Please, sir, save my daughter! My daughter’s possessed by something evil.”

Their voices cracked, desperation bleeding through every word. Two elders. Gray hair, trembling hands. On their knees, begging me. It sent a shiver up my spine. It felt wrong, but I stayed still.

I looked at the two old folks, said nothing, and didn’t help them up.

Because to me, these two had been dead for a long time already. They were both vengeful spirits. My heart hammered. I tried to steady my breath.

Their eyes had that glassy sheen, their skin waxy and pale. I felt the temperature drop a few degrees. The world seemed to hold its breath.

I finished the whiskey in my cup, scrubbed at my eyes, trying to blink them away.

The whiskey burned on the way down, sharper than usual. I tried to blink away the ghosts, but they didn’t budge. Maybe I was seeing things—or maybe the veil was just thin tonight.

Vengeful ghosts coming to an exorcist for help catching a demon? That’s a new one.