Eva
Riley bursts into the café holding the Book of Vestiges overhead. “Check this shit out.” The quiet of the morning opening duties is gone in a flash.
I drop the broom and leave the floor half-swept. “What’s it say?”
“Here,” she says breathlessly, handing me the book and pointing to a page.
Martha presented the coven with an unearthed grimoire of unknown origin. The
book contained a multitude of spells and incantations previously unknown to the
membership. Upon closer inspection, the spells conjured an unspeakable power.
While casting a spell, Martha’s eyes turned black and unseeing. She spoke in
tongues. A heavy gray mist filled the chamber, and Martha disappeared from
view. Minutes later she returned, holding the horn of a demon, her hands coated
in black, sticky blood.
Betsy Campbell, rebuked the magick performed this night. Called it a curse by which the coven would be haunted for generations.
I look up from the page, needing a moment to understand. This new information goes against everything I know about our coven and the world of magick.
“Keep reading.” Riley flips to the next page.
November 2, 1971. Meeting called to order by Elenor Jones.
Regular order of business.
Martha Jessup produced grimoire, requested a seance to call forth additional
powers from the underworld. She was outvoted. Meeting adjourned.
I flip through more passages with mundane witch business. Inventory, reports of witches’ power awakening. Roll calls for meetings. Business transactions. Nothing out of the ordinary and not a single mention of dark magick.
Until we get to 1992. It looks like someone tried to burn these pages. Faint writing under blackened pages is the only sign that something was there at one point.
“What’s this?” I ask Riley and run my finger across the charred pages.
“Not sure. It’s effective whatever it is, because it completely destroyed these entries. I’ve tried everything I can think of to restore them.”
The next pages appear normal at first glance, but something catches my eye. I flip back and forth between two entries dated a month apart.
“Wait, this can’t be right.” I run my finger down the list of coven members in the first entry. It’s a full two pages of names.
In the next entry, half of them are missing. No explanation. Just gone
“So, where did they go?” Riley asks.
Things are so much worse than I could have imagined, and keeping Sorren a secret feels heavier than it did before.
I go back and forth with myself, arguing about whether I should tell Riley about my demon.
If I’m the only one who knows, the issue seems contained, manageable.
But that’s just an illusion. I’m finally ready to admit that I can’t handle this on my own.
I’ve tried to fix it, and it’s not working.
I need Riley. She might see a way out of this that I haven’t thought of yet. To do that, she’ll need the truth.
I walk over to the door and flip the sign to ‘closed’. I’ve got something to say, and I don’t want to be interrupted.
“Eva, what’s going on?” Her voice teeters between concern and intrigue.
“What do you know about demons?” I ask.
She lets out a heavy breath. “They live in the underworld. Torture the bad guys in the afterlife. Hate witches.” Riley indulges my question with a surface level answer.
I look around the empty café and whisper, “I met one.”
“You met a demon!” The broom slips from her fingers, and it hits the ground hard with a smack, like a thunderclap. I flinch, preparing for the impending storm.
“Shh, someone could hear you.” I look around nervously even though the place has been empty for hours.
Riley drags me to the nearest table and pushes me down into the chair. “Tell me everything. Start at the beginning.” She sits across from me, face to face, all other duties abandoned to hear what comes next.
“The night after Mabon, I did a spell out of the grimoire—the one that showed up at my house.”
“The one with no words?”
“I told you there was something in there, after you left a spell appeared in it,” I explain. “I hoped it was something to open the lines or dispel the fog, but it summoned,” I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “A demon.”
“YOUR MAGICK SUMMONED A FUCKING DEMON?” She shrieks at full volume.
Completely caught off guard that I called up a creature of the underworld, and genuinely impressed that my magick is capable of that kind of thing.
She becomes increasingly unhinged when I tell her more about Sorren, though I leave out the part where he’s helpful and funny. Not to mention cute.
“We were trying to figure out a way to send him back to Hell, so I did a reading.” I pause to let her take in the information.
Riley knows how careful I am about readings. There are some questions you might not be ready for—case in point, my relationship with Grant.
She blinks dramatically a few times. “Well, what happened?”
“It was different from my others. The images were clear as day, not the fuzzy ones that could be interpreted fifteen different ways. The colors were so vivid, a perfect flower, and a bird. Not just a bird, a raven.”
I take a beat, giving my eyes time to drop to the raven tattoo on her forearm.
A word witch like Riley loves the symbolism of certain things, and ravens carry a lot of meaning in witchcraft.
They’re associated with hidden wisdom, plus they look badass.
“It basically said that a new start was coming, that I needed to say goodbye to Grant, and that secrets would be revealed.”
“The secret that you summoned a demon and bound him to your house?” She asks with a laugh.
“That’s just it, I get the feeling that this isn’t the secret that’s being revealed. This is just the beginning. I think there’s more we need to figure out.”
“Wait. Hold on.” She waves her hands in front of her, shooing away her disbelief, “So when I came over last night, you were hiding a demon in your house? Where do you have him locked up? The creepy basement?” she asks, her eyes wide with excitement.
I shake my head. “I don’t have him locked up. He’s staying in the guest room.”
“What?! You have a demon just wandering around your house?’
“Riley! Keep it down. Someone could hear you on the other side of town.”
“This is crazy. I just can’t believe, first off, that you summoned a demon, and second, that it’s taken you this long to tell me.” She ticks off on her fingers.
“I didn’t want you getting pulled into my little mess, especially because it’s turning out to be harder to clean up than I had originally thought.
Returning a demon back to Hell is harder than it sounds!
” A nervous laugh slips out. “But, here’s the crazy part: he was actually more scared of me at first. He thought I was going to torture him to death. ”
“Is he a little demon? How big are we talking?” she asks.
“He’s over six feet tall and looks human. He even wears glasses. He’s not what you’d expect from a Prince of Hell.”
“Eva, did you just say you are holding a Prince of Hell hostage in your house? This is more than ‘a little mess.’ This could be the goddamn apocalypse!”
“I’m aware. We figured out how to get a message to his half-brother, so he’s been sort of working virtually from my shed.” It sounds totally crazy when I say it out loud and the expression on her face shows it.
“Let me get this straight. You did a reading, which you never do. Broke up with your fiancé—which I agreed with, so good job there—and you have a demon working remotely from your gardening shed? Gotcha,” she says incredulously.
“You don’t believe me? Fine. When we’re done here, you can meet him.”
“Oh no. We aren’t waiting. All this can wait. I need to see this demon with my own eyes.”
“Honey, I’m home!” Riley calls through the house the moment the door opens.
Sorren jumps from the couch in pure panic.
“Hello, demon. I hear you’ve been shacking up with my best friend,” Riley says and puts her hand out.
“Riley, knock it off. Sorren, meet Riley. She knows the whole story,” I tell him apologetically. We caught him watching reality TV in the living room in his gray sweatpants.
Don’t stare at his pants. Don’t stare at his pants. Don’t stare at his pants.
Riley, however, doesn't have any qualms about objectifying the fine-as-hell demon standing in my living room.
“Hi Riley, good to meet you. Eva’s told me so much about you already.” He takes her hand and shakes it confidently.
“Um, Sorren. Can you give us just a minute?” Riley asks with a pinched smile and drags me to the kitchen.
Out of view, but definitely not out of ear shot, Riley whisper-yells, “I think you forgot one important little detail. Why didn’t you tell me he’s sexy AF?
Those glasses. That earring? Certified hottie. ”
I clear my throat and tilt my head toward the living room, where said hot demon is currently listening to every word we’re saying.
“There has been a lot going on, and we are trying to solve some pretty important things.” My pointed tone and wide eyes carry the real message: Shut up and don’t embarrass me.
A bell rings in the living room. “Oh that’s Malachi! I showed him how to make the connection with the blood and anchor, so he’s been calling nonstop. I need to take this,” Sorren says and slips out the back door with a sly smile.
I could die of embarrassment, but I’m afraid I’d have to face Sorren in Hell for an eternity of awkwardness.
“You sneaky little witch.” Riley’s grinning from ear to ear. “Now I can see why you want to keep him all to yourself.”
“It’s not like that, we are friends. As soon as we open the leylines and send him back to the underworld, that’s it. Nothing more.”
“Hm. I don’t think so,” she says, spinning around, assessing my house with new eyes. Looking for anything out of place or different. She stops in front of the grimoire and opens the old book, the pages still blank. “I think he has a crush on you.”
“Stop right there. I’m practically his kidnapper.”
“Ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?"
I smack her arm.