Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Iknew Mortimer wasn’t my cat, but that didn’t stop the feeling of guilt from coiling around my neck like a noose.
Even the Cowardly Lion got his shit together in the end, so I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.
I’d been sitting in the parking space just in front of my building for what felt like hours.
I hadn’t chosen to put the radio on, but it had just started playing for some reason.
The blaring music had been a momentary reprieve from my anxious thoughts, but when Lesley Gore began to play through the speakers, I couldn’t help but feel like the universe was mocking me a little bit.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s my life and I’ll cry if I want to,” I muttered through gritted teeth, knuckles still white from where they gripped the steering wheel.
I tried to ignore the lingering pain from the incision in my hand and the fact that I knew it wouldn’t scar.
In hindsight, that probably hadn’t even crossed Thallor’s mind, so there was no point reading into it.
With five or six deep breaths and leaning into all my resolve, one that saw both Mortimer and Maura come away from this whole thing, I stepped out of the car.
What was usually a three-minute walk from my car to my front door took over ten minutes.
Every step up the stairs felt like I was bringing myself closer to sudden doom.
That, in itself, was a weird feeling. I stopped outside my apartment and looked at the bits of chipped paint.
I hadn’t ever really noticed them before, but now, standing here on this side of the door, I couldn’t bring myself to move until I counted every single one.
Thirty-seven chips in total. Not that my landlord would fix them.
Or anything else for that matter. I took a deep breath, trying to release some of the tension in my shoulders and let my head drop.
And found myself scowling almost immediately.
My ‘Enter If You Dare’ doormat came into view.
It was covered in moons and stars and potion vials.
I’d bought the witchy doormat off Etsy because I wanted something that fit my overall aesthetic.
I didn’t want something that simply said ‘Welcome’ because, for the most part, people were absolutely not welcome in my home.
And that sentiment stretched to demons, too. Not that it mattered anymore.
I pushed the key into the door slowly. It was funny that everything often sounded the loudest when you were trying to make the least amount of noise possible.
My car key and the old motel-key keychain my grandfather had gotten made for his company, one that said ‘Our Business is Dead Serious,’ all jangled and knocked against the door.
The door itself creaked when I pushed it open–the sound considerably groanier than it had been in weeks.
Maybe it was the cold weather or just a coincidence, but that didn’t stop me mentally cursing at the universe for its never-ending ability to find humour in my misery.
Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me.
I repeated the same thing over and over in my head as if he might hear me.
I let the door swing open but made no move to step into the space.
Whoever designed this room, however, hadn’t exactly thought the layout through, as the door opened out to the right, leaving my very small kitchen visible and the rest of the living space on the other side shielded by the door.
Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me.
I took a deep breath and stepped into the space. Peeking my head around the door to—
“Mort?!” I hissed, in a yelled whisper, as I took in the sight in front of me.
This…man? Male? Demon? Whatever the fuck he was had his back to me, my cat lazily draped over his shoulder as he continued to prune the plants in my apartment.
I stared at the back of him as he cut at bits of my monstera that had browned and curled over.
He was back in his more human form. Although I’d found his other form beautiful in a terrifying kind of way, his horns and charcoaled skin had been replaced with the same fiery red hair and muscular build.
For a moment, all I did was stare, leaning into the relief of seeing Mortimer very much alive.
He purred quietly against Thallor’s neck.
An act that had me questioning not only his loyalties but also what Thallor had done to earn his trust. Although I didn’t take that much to consider, cats were evil little shits themselves, so this was probably a match made in heaven.
My hands were still trembling as I dropped my keys onto the counter.
The two plants I’d knocked over had been repotted, and I couldn’t see any soil on my floor, not even a speck.
The salt ring had also been whipped away, and my cock shaped candle had been placed next to my silver trinket on my kitchen counter.
The site of the two ritual items sat beside an empty box of Froot Loops and a half-eaten apple really had me questioning my life choices.
When I turned back around, Thallor was staring at me with Mort still perched on his shoulder.
He held my gaze for a beat before walking over to the bin, the one marking the halfway point between us, before dropping in the leaf trimmings.
His freckles were back, and his eyes were the same red as before our conversation had taken a turn for the worse.
A sign that, despite everything, he was feeling calmer…
At least I hoped he was. His eyes found mine again and the way he was looking at me made me feel exposed.
Made me feel like he could see through my clothes to my naked body underneath.
I wasn’t sure what powers he had or didn't have, so I crossed my arms over my chest, just in case.
“You have mud on your face,” he said before stalking back over and placing a palm in the soil of my ginormous plant. The one that made even Thallor look a little small.
“You have my cat on your shoulder,” I bit back, settling Mortimer with a ‘seriously, I feed you’ look. One he seemed completely unphased by.
“You’re the one who left him here howling against the door.”
“Well…thank you for not eating him,” I said.
My voice was cold and sharp, and I hoped he didn’t notice the little tremor of fear that lilted at the end of each word.
Thallor turned slowly, levelling me with a look that I was half sure would result in my instantaneous combustion. Gee, I said ‘thank you,’ didn’t I?
“What… What are you doing?”
Thallor sighed, positioning his open palm in front of the plant closest to him as if presenting it to me. “Taking care of these plants. They haven’t been fed.”
“I fed them yesterday,” I snapped back a little too quickly, Mortimer’s betrayal doing an absolute number on my emotions. Do you not remember the terrifying demon man, Quincey? Why are you pushing your luck?
“They were all on the verge of death and now they are not.” Mortimer meowed a few times as Thallor stood up.
He sighed again, a deeper sigh than the previous time, before moving to hold Mort in his arms, giving him the same icy glare he always seemed to give me.
“You were right, she came back. There is still no food for you to be found here.”
Thallor set the black cat on the floor before approaching me slowly.
The scent of smoke wafted toward me, thick and warm and akin to cosying up under a blanket near a fire with a good book.
I ignored the smell, keeping all hints of intoxication from my face as I stumbled backward away from him and into the kitchen counter.
“You came back.” Not a question. Just a statement.
A fact. He didn’t say it as if he had been worried I wouldn’t.
Thallor didn’t say it as if he cared or was even bothered if I did or didn’t.
Even if he had, I would have known better.
His entire existence now depended on whether I decided to go through with the wishes or not—something I wouldn’t do until I had a chance to actually do some research on the subject.
I shrugged, trying to feign as much nonchalance as possible. “This is my apartment. And I came back for Mortimer, but his loyalties seemed to have changed.” My voice was still cold as I looked at him.
He cocked his head toward me slightly. His brows were ever so slightly raised, and his eyes were set in a half-lidded gaze that made it seem like he was simultaneously mocking and dismissing me. The faint smirk that tugged on the corner of his lips made my blood boil.
“Are you jealous of me…or the cat?” he taunted.
“I don’t care about you at all—”
“And yet you summoned me,” he cut in before I was even finished speaking.
“That was a mistake. You can crawl back to the depths of hell for all I care.”
But we both knew he couldn’t. Thallor was well and truly stuck with me, and I think that sentiment terrified him as much as it did me. His jaw clenched and I saw the reds of his eyes ignite. Shit. “I would gladly return. Hell is a breath of fresh air compared to you.”
So just leave. He was a powerful demon, wasn’t he?
He could use whatever powers or magic he had to fix this?
I didn’t need him here and, more importantly, I didn’t want him anywhere near me.
And yet, he was the answer to everything.
I took a breath, steadying myself against the wave of thoughts that crashed into me. When would enough be enough?
I’d suffered, hadn’t I? Dead parents? A professor dedicated to making my life a living hell?
A brain that made every situation, every decision feel like it might kill me.
A landlord who couldn’t give a shit if I froze to death in the winter.
A possible stalker situation at work. A grandmother who was so unbelievably ill that I flinched every time my grandfather called, because I feared the news at the other end of the phone, and now this? I let out a shaky laugh.