Chapter 6

Antique Store carried the name, but everyone knew most of the “antiques” were just glorified junk. Calling it a vintage store would’ve been more accurate.

We wandered around until Aves yanked me toward a cramped shop stacked with old objects.

The chubby shop owner gave us a long, strange look..

“You two brought something with bad energy, didn’t you?”

He nailed us with one sentence. Aves practically lit up—finally, someone who “understood” her. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out the jade cicada.

“This one, right?” she asked eagerly.

The owner’s tiny bean-like eyes widened. He grabbed the cicada and examined it under a magnifying glass, silent for a long moment.

“You’ve seen one like this before?” Aves couldn’t contain herself.

“Never,” he said. “But the craftsmanship’s at least five or six hundred years old. A valuable piece… just extremely strange. Ordinary people can’t handle it.”

“What do you mean ‘strange’?” I asked.

“Hold on.”

He handed the jade cicada back and disappeared into the back room. When he returned, he was carrying a strip of raw meat as thick as a finger.

He told Aves to set the jade cicada on the counter, then edged the meat toward the tiny open mouth of the carved insect.

“What are you doing?” I asked. The whole setup felt bizarre.

Before he could answer, something dark seemed to flash in the jade cicada’s mouth—so fast I barely saw it.

“What was that?”

The owner pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh.”

We waited. Three, maybe four minutes passed before the dark thing crept out again—just a tip of it at first.

The owner quickly pulled the meat away. Whatever it was wanted the bait, because its head pushed farther out… then more… inch by inch.

“Centipede,” the owner murmured.

I froze, horrified.

The creature finally slithered free—a long, black centipede, at least half a foot in length. I couldn’t comprehend how something that big had been curled up inside the tiny jade cicada.

And Henry had shoved that thing—this thing—up his—

A shiver rolled down my spine so violently my knees went weak.

The owner snatched a pair of tweezers from a drawer and grabbed the centipede mid-wriggle. It thrashed, thick body twisting furiously, but the owner’s grip didn’t budge. He dropped it into a jar and sealed the lid.

“How was a centipede inside the jade cicada?” I whispered.

“Corpse arts,” he said. “Tools for controlling the dead. Where did you two get this?”

He looked at us, suspicious now.

“It’s her boyfriend’s,” Aves said before I could stop her. “He keeps it shoved up his—”

“I got it,” the owner cut in, lifting a hand. He turned to me.

“Miss, you should stay far, far away from your boyfriend.”

My teeth chattered. “What do you mean?”

“You asked,” he said gently. “I’m just answering. Your boyfriend… might not be alive.”

Aves scoffed. “See, Gia? I told you Henry’s a corpse. Now do you believe me?”

My throat tightened.

“I’m sorry, Aves. I should’ve trusted you.”

She’d only ever tried to protect me. Maybe she was blunt, maybe she was extreme—but she had never once meant me harm.

Before we left, the owner warned us to bring the jade cicada to a church for purification—or destroy it. Keeping it would only bring disaster.

I didn’t know anything about this stuff, so Aves agreed to handle it herself. She promised she’d take it to the church.