Eva
Okay, this is what’s going to happen: I’m going to open my eyes and everything is going to be totally normal. No more hallucinations of men in slutty little glasses. I will open my eyes, stretch my arms, and laugh about the bizarre fever dream.
I rip off the proverbial bandaid and open my eyes, sitting straight up.
“Ah!” The man, apparently not imaginary, shrieks and clutches at his chest from the ottoman facing me. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a few deep breaths. “You scared me!” The absurdity almost makes me laugh. He is the worst intruder ever.
“You scared me! What are you doing in my house?” I yell back. His brown wavy hair is casually combed back, and a pair of thin wire framed glasses bracket his brown eyes. He’s dressed nicely, not the typical outfit for a B and E. The snug fit white dress shirt shows off a broad chest and slim waist.
He takes another deep breath. “You tell me,” he says calmly, holding out a glass of water.
I drag my eyes up so he doesn’t notice me checking him out.
“Thank you.” The cool water calms my nerves.
“Let’s start over. I’m Sorren, and you’re Eva. You summoned me to your lair, and as soon as you’re feeling better, you can send me back to Hell,” he explains like it’s a normal thing to say. The deep tenor of his voice puts me at ease.
“Are you a… demon?” I ask, slightly choking on the word.
He holds out a sleeve of crackers with a devilish smile. “Bingo.”
“Where’s your horns and hooves?” The question slips out before I can censor myself. I hope it didn’t sound rude.
He throws his head back and laughs, “I showed up in this.” He motions up and down his body. “And don’t be ridiculous, demons don’t have hooves. How would we hold our pitchforks without opposable thumbs?”
“Hooves for hands? Why would you have hooves on your hands?”
“I don’t know what kind of nonsense you’ve heard about demons! For all I know, you could think we run around twirling our mustaches all day.”
“So there aren’t mustaches in Hell?”
“Of course there are, but I’ve never in my life seen someone twist one.”
“What the hell are we talking about? I still don’t understand how you got here.”
There's no way my pathetic magick summoned someone—correction, an evil demon—from the underworld. Still. A hot guy with glasses and an earring in my living room? Unexpected, regardless of where he comes from.
If what he is saying is true, then I should be the one comforting him. Did I just kidnap a demon? Wait. Am I the villain?
Sorren inches the ottoman closer and puts the crackers into my hands. Our fingers brush with a light touch I feel down to my toes.
“Thanks.” The salty, buttery crackers help more than the water. Everything starts to come back. “How long was I out?”
“About five minutes the first time, less the second.” Sorren scoots back on the ottoman, giving me some space to breathe.
“Okay. Sorry, I’m still trying to figure all this out. You said ‘summoned.’ Did you actually say ‘summoned’?” My throat goes dry around the crackers, and I force them down.
“I did. You pulled me from the underworld. Now, I’d love to stay and chat, but I was in the middle of a very important meeting that I need to get back to,” he says, very matter-of-factly.
Why am I the only one freaking out here?
“There has to be some mistake. I can’t summon anything, especially from the underworld. I was just trying to fix the leylines,” I explain.
“Hate to break it to you, but you absolutely can.” His warm laughter fills the room.
“You’re sure that you’re a—” I wait for him to finish the sentence for me.
“A demon, in the flesh. A Prince of Hell, to be exact.”
The implications of my current situation roll over me along with a wave of nausea. Crackers were a bad idea. The blood drains from my face.
“Woah, woah. Easy there. Everything is okay.” He inches even closer and rubs my back in small circles, “You can just do a simple spell and send me back home.” The comforting gesture conflicts sharply with the task he just gave me.
“I need some air.” I stand up, step over the disastrous remains of the spell on the floor, and go out into the cool night air. Sorren follows me outside, and we sit together on the steps, completely filling the space between the two wooden posts holding the small porch roof.
“Sorren, Prince of Hell,” I repeat slowly. “I’ve never met a demon before.” A laugh of pure disbelief tumbles out of me.
“You’re doing great. Take a minute. Or better yet, let me know what you need for the spell, and I’ll gather everything up. When you’re ready, you can send me back.” He is so damn sweet and helpful, and none of this makes any sense.
“I don’t know how to send you back,” I reluctantly admit, dimming the thrill that I accidentally performed powerful magick. I reach for that feeling one more time. Still nothing.
“Can’t you just do the reverse of what you just did?” he asks, searching my eyes.
“That’s not quite how it works. Besides, I was trying to do something else.” Leave it to me to mess things up so badly.
“You witches are scary powerful.”
I snort at his characterization. Witch’s powers are for taking shortcuts when cleaning up or coaxing a bloom to open early. Not summon demons. At least, not as far as I know. “You don’t know many witches, do you?” I ask.
He laughs quietly next to me. “Nope. Can’t say that I do.”
Feeling better I stand and look down at him. Damn, he’s hot. His wavy hair is inappropriately enticing. The hard line of his jaw looks like it could cut granite. Determination and a sliver of confidence blooms in my chest. If I can bring a demon here, I sure as hell can send one back.
“Alright, Prince Charming, let’s get you back to the underworld.” I put my hand out to help him to his feet. He takes my hand in his warm one and pulls himself up, standing toe to toe with me.
“Thank you, Eva,” his warm syrupy smooth voice makes my pulse quicken. I drop his hand and march back into the house with a mission. I need to get this guy away from me. I’ve got Grant and a goal. A hot demon with a sexy voice is only going to get in the way.
“You can’t just start throwing ingredients into a pot!” I yell and grab all of the random things Sorren holds in his hand. It’s been three hours since I somehow dragged this demon out of Hell, and he’s getting desperate to return.
“It’s not like you’re getting anywhere,” he says with an exasperated huff.
“What looks like chaos to you, is a carefully crafted system to me.” I take the smudge stick out of his hand and lay it in the abalone shell next to the sink.
My magick has been erratic since I woke up with a demon in my house.
Spells that usually have consistent results are completely dead or pop off at the wrong time.
The undercurrent of a formidable energy has shimmered just under my skin from working with him by my side all night.
It’s a fraction of what I felt earlier, but it’s better than nothing. It’s equally exciting and terrifying.
“Growing up, we were told that crones would wave those sticks at us and we’d be repelled back to our rooms if we snuck out of bed at night.” He nods toward the sage.
“Sage just helps cleanse negative energy. Your parents must’ve really wanted some alone time.”
“Well, then what do you use to banish demons?”
My demon guest is getting grumpy, and I’m running out of options.
We’ve tried every reversal, banishment, cleansing, and repelling spell I can think of.
I’m so bone-tired from trying to cast him back to where he came from that the slightest breeze could knock me over.
It’s the kind of exhaustion that only caffeine can fix.
I fill the kettle and flip it on to boil. The sun will be coming up in a few hours and an entire day is waiting for me. Being knocked out cold and then fainting doesn’t count as sleep, and I don’t do well without my rest.
Sorren leans forward and lightly knocks his forehead against the kitchen table, muttering under his breath. I feel bad for the guy, but he’s handling it much better than I would if the roles were reversed. If I was transported to the underworld, I would be absolutely losing my shit.
I grab two mugs, my French press, and a personal favorite bag of ground coffee beans.
A minute after the water boils, I fill the French press, toss out that water and fill it again, this time along with the grounds.
I slowly lower the plunger. I love making coffee like this; it’s almost as rewarding as the taste in the end.
I set everything on the table in front of Sorren, who is lost in his own little world right now.
The smell of fresh coffee drags him out of his stupor. Silently, he watches me fill our cups, add a few spoons of sugar, and a splash of cream.
“Here, this’ll help,” I say and push it into his hands. They curl around the hot mug and stress visibly melts away from his face.
“Why is it so cold up here?” he asks, touching his lips to the rim, testing the temperature.
“We are pretty far from the fires of Hell.”
“Ha ha. Very funny.” He takes a long drink and sets the cup down in front of him with a satisfied moan. “Oh shit, that’s good.”
I do my best to ignore his reaction to the coffee. This guy makes everything look sexy. “It’s the beginning of fall, you should have been here a few months ago. It was agonizingly hot.”
“That sounds nice right about now.”
I grab the soft chenille blanket from the couch and hand it to him. He leans away from the coziness suspiciously.
“It won’t bite,” I say with a laugh.
Cautiously, he takes it and wraps it around his broad shoulders.
He looks adorable. His hair is tousled in every direction.
The inverted cross earring swings back and forth, occasionally catching on the outward curl of hair behind his ear.
His previously buttoned up crisp white shirt is now rumpled and open at the collar revealing a tattoo that has caught my attention more than once.
A demon—who I’m not so sure is evil—is sitting in my house, drinking coffee with me, and wearing a fluffy blanket around his shoulders. All like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
Sorren catches me staring at him, and I look away a fraction of a second too late. He lifts the mug up, poorly hiding a roguish smile.
“Tell me again what you were trying to do when you rudely pulled me away from my realm.” A broad smile spreads across his face, and I wonder for a moment if he’s flirting with me.
“I was trying to cast a spell that I hoped would open the leylines around Raincrest, my town.”
“Leylines?” He cocks his head to the said as if trying to remember where he’s heard the word before.
I pause and take a sip of my coffee, trying to think of an easy way to explain them.
“Think of them like rivers of magick running through the ground. When it’s flowing freely, there is a lot of energy for witches to use.
When it’s dammed up, the magick is blocked from us, and there isn’t much to pull from. ”
My eyes settle on the book that started all this demonic trouble. Surely the answer has got to be in there somewhere.
“There is one more thing we could try.” I grab the heavy tome and lay it on the table. Unlike before, the pages are blank, not a single one with any marks.
“That’s weird,” I mutter, closing then opening the book again. Still nothing.
“Is that how you brought me here?” He leans in close enough for me to smell the hint of smoke, sandalwood, and fresh coffee.
“Yeah.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so!” He drags the grimoire across the table for a closer look but quickly pulls his hands back with an inward hiss, his skin sizzling from where it touched the ancient pages.
“It’s complicated.” I turn it back toward me, no burn no sizzle. Apparently, it prefers my touch.
“Clearly!” He crosses his arms, “So what’s the story with this thing?”
“Well, it showed up yesterday, on Mabon, and when I touched it, it opened to a random page. So, I took a chance and did the spell hoping it would help.” I leave out a few of the details that lead me to take such risks.
“What spell did you do?” he asks, still not completely understanding what I’m trying to explain.
I groan and rub my hands down my face. “I don’t know.” It pains me to admit it.
“That doesn’t sound like responsible witchcraft,” Sorren says. His voice lacks the judgmental tone I was prepared for.
“It’s not.” I grit my teeth.
“Well, Witch. What are we going to do?”
I certainly hope that was a rhetorical question, because I’m out of answers. At least for right now.
“You said something earlier about having an important meeting to get back to. Could that have something to do with you being here?” I try to phrase the question so I don’t sound like I’m blaming him.
“No. I felt the pull.” He emphasizes the last two words ominously.
“What’s ‘the pull’?” I ask, imitating his deep voice.
He thinks for a second. “It feels like this.” He stands up and turns my chair so I’m facing him.
Sorren extends his arms forward, reaching out to me.
On reflex, I put my hands in his. The moment we touch he yanks me toward him until our bodies are flush against each other. Every inch of me right up against him.
“Like that.”
Yeah, there’s no mistaking that feeling. Stars blot the corners of my vision. I step back awkwardly and straighten my wrinkled clothing. I shake my head trying to clear it. There is no way I am figuring out how to send him home in this state.
“Sorren, I need sleep. I’m exhausted and probably a little bit concussed.”
“I thought that was what the coffee was for.” Desperation creeps back into his tone.
“I’m not giving up. I just need an hour. Two, tops, then we can do the deed. Do it. Get you back home!” My cheeks heat from my choice of words. I shouldn’t have phrased it like that.
“You take the couch. I’ll wake you up when I’m ready,” I call over my shoulder as I hurry up the stairs to the safety of my bedroom.
“Eva!” he yells from the living room.
I pop my head down the staircase. “Yeah?”
“Try telling me to go home. Order me to leave,” he suggests jokingly.
“Go back from whence you came.” I smile back in spite of myself.
Nothing happens. We both just stand there grinning at each other like fools. I roll my eyes and pull my head out of sight.
“Good night, demon.”
“Sweet dreams, little witch.”