Chapter 7
The first warning comes on an ordinary Tuesday, exactly one month and three days into what Finn now cheerfully refers to as our “demon-human partnership.”
I’m in the clinic reception area, terrorizing an insurance representative over the phone (“No, your denial of coverage is unacceptable. Yes, I can absolutely make this an escalating problem for you personally.”), when the temperature in the room plummets so dramatically that the fish tank behind the desk develops a thin layer of ice.
Finn, emerging from an exam room with a recently vaccinated poodle and its owner, freezes mid-sentence as his breath becomes visible in the suddenly frigid air.
“Uh, weird AC malfunction,” he tells the confused client, hurriedly finishing their transaction. “Josie, why don’t you take lunch early? I’ll deal with the… thermostat issue.”
Once the humans are safely out of sight, he turns to me with wide eyes. “Please tell me this is just you having a bad day and not what I think it is.”
I end my call abruptly, already scanning the surrounding area with senses beyond human perception. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”
The air thickens with an oily, sulfurous scent that has Finn wrinkling his nose. “Valefar?”
“No,” I reply, moving closer to him protectively. “A message from Valefar. A warning.”
As if on cue, the computer screen behind the reception desk flickers, then displays a message in glowing red text that sizzles against the screen:
FOUND YOU, MORAX. ENJOYING YOUR LITTLE PET HUMAN? SUCH A CHARMING WEAKNESS YOU’VE DEVELOPED. PERHAPS I’LL COLLECT HIM FOR MY MENAGERIE.
Finn reads the message over my shoulder, swallowing hard. “That’s… not great.”
“No,” I agree grimly. “It’s not.”
The text vanishes, replaced by a countdown: 3 DAYS.
The screen goes black, then returns to normal as the temperature gradually rises back to comfortable levels.
Finn runs a hand through his hair, that familiar gesture of agitation. “So we have three days until what? Valefar shows up to turn me into a pet? Or turn you back into one?”
“Until he makes his move,” I correct, mind already racing through defensive strategies. “Which gives us time to prepare.”
“Prepare how? I don’t exactly have demon-fighting equipment in my supply closet.”
Despite the gravity of the situation, I find his dry humor oddly reassuring. Even facing supernatural threats, Finn remains… Finn.
“We fortify your apartment and the clinic,” I explain, already moving toward the stairs. “I’ll need to place wards, gather certain materials, perhaps summon a few loyal—”
“Whoa, hold up,” Finn interrupts, following me. “Summon? As in, bring more demons here? Is that really the best solution?”
I pause on the stairs, turning to face him. “Valefar is powerful, Finn. More powerful than those minions you faced before. I can’t guarantee your safety against him alone.”
A stubborn expression settles on his face—one I’ve come to recognize and both admire and find frustrating. “There has to be another way. One that doesn’t involve turning my clinic into a demon battlefield.”
“Your safety is my priority,” I state firmly.
“And the safety of my patients and clients is mine,” he counters. “Look, I appreciate the whole protective demon boyfriend thing, I really do. But we need a plan that doesn’t potentially endanger innocent people.”
I suppress a growl of frustration. Finn’s compassion—normally one of his most endearing qualities—is highly inconvenient in this situation.
“Fine,” I concede. “No summoning. But I will place protective wards, and you will follow my instructions precisely.”
“Deal,” he agrees, then hesitates. “You could… go back, you know. To Hell. Confront him on your own turf. You wouldn’t have to worry about me or the clinic then.”
The suggestion catches me off guard. “You want me to leave?”
“No!” he says quickly, reaching for my hand. “God, no. That’s the last thing I want. But I also don’t want to be the reason you’re at a disadvantage in a fight with your archenemy.”
I study his face, noting the genuine concern in his eyes—concern for me, not himself. It’s still a novel experience, having someone worry about my wellbeing.
“I’m not leaving you unprotected,” I state with finality. “Valefar threatened you specifically. He knows my… attachment to you is significant.”
A small smile tugs at Finn’s lips despite the circumstances. “Significant attachment, huh? Is that demon-speak for ‘feelings’?”
“Focus, Finn,” I admonish, but there’s no real irritation in my tone. “We have preparations to make.”