Chapter 24
Kendyll
(Present Day)
I SAT NERVOUSLY NEXT TO Harper while Iyla and Serenity occupied the seats across from us. My seat had me close to the dark-haired beauty, so I tried to subtly shift slightly away from her. I tried to act casual while doing so, but she must’ve caught me trying to put distance between us.
“Oops,” she said, grabbing her own chair to pull it in the opposite direction. “Was I too close?”
“Huh?” I asked stupidly, half embarrassed at being caught moving away from her and half anticipating their poor opinion of me from such a bitchy-appearing move.
“Xander told us you don’t like being touched,” Harper explained like such a thing was normal and no big deal. “I was afraid I might’ve accidentally crossed that line.”
My brows rose. “He said that?”
I recalled him stopping the girls and saying something to the group that had them all looking in my direction.
I’d thought he might’ve been warning them about my less than bright personality, but this must’ve really been what he’d said.
He was trying to make sure I wasn’t put in an uncomfortable position.
A whisper of affection blossomed in my chest, but I quickly ignored that feeling since no good could come from opening that box again.
I cleared my throat and pushed my glasses up my nose while averting my gaze. “Yeah. I don’t … like being touched. Sorry. I know that’s weird and—”
“Don’t apologize for that,” Serenity quickly cut me off with a wave of her hands. “We totally understand!”
“Yeah,” Harper agreed. She braced her chin on her fist and offered me an understanding smile. “Never apologize for the boundaries that protect your well-being. Let us know if we get too close or anything, okay? We won’t be offended by it.”
It was the first time I’d been told that my discomfort with physical touch wasn’t a problem or a burden for others to consider or remember.
When I’d first realized how much I hated being touched as a little girl, I’d been called crazy.
Classmates, family, and strangers would touch me anyway, because they thought it was something I needed to “get over” for the sake of making others comfortable.
No one will want to be your friend if they constantly have to walk on eggshells around you.
I can’t hug you? But I’m your grandmother, so I shouldn’t count. Give me a hug!
Touch is a natural need for human beings. If you don’t like it, there’s something really wrong with you.
Eventually, my concern for others lessened, and my shell hardened. I accepted that no one would accept me, so I stopped caring about making friends, looking at family as something that deserved being held to different rules just because they were “family,” or trying to fix what couldn’t be fixed.
These girls had never met me before. If anyone should’ve been critical of my boundaries, it should’ve been them because they had no reason to invest in me or my well-being. We were strangers. Yet they had already been more accepting of me than anyone else I’d ever met.
Other than one Mischief demon.
Other than my one actual exception.
I suddenly felt like I could breathe easier, and the tension in my shoulders eased. I offered each girl a smile, and this time, I was successful. “Thank you, guys. I appreciate that.”
Serenity brightened, and she practically leaned half her body across the table as she beamed at me with wide gray eyes. “I have so many questions about your ability to see ghosts!”
I chuckled lightly, her enthusiasm slightly contagious where normally I’d be hesitant to divulge information about my gift in this situation. “What do you want to know?”
The trio of girls took turns firing off questions.
Was I born with the ability? Yes.
What do ghosts look like? Us.
Does everyone become a ghost when they die? No.
As the conversation continued, I found my earlier anxiety over meeting everyone had completely faded away.
Maybe I should’ve expected it, considering they were all dating literal spawns of Hell, but there was no judgement as they listened to my answers, nor any snide skepticism.
Their interest, belief, and excitement was a stark difference from the reactions I’d received in my past, and I couldn’t deny how good it felt to be heard and accepted by my peers.
The topic eventually shifted to how everyone met each other and their demon partner. As I listened and conversed, I realized I’d forgotten.
I’d forgotten why Xander had brought me here.
I’d forgotten what had rattled me to the point of fleeing to the closet.
I’d forgotten what consistently tortured me.
I slowly looked out of the corner of my eye where Xander and the rest of his demon entourage stood.
As though in tune with me, he looked over and found my gaze, too.
The upbeat rock music, the hundreds of bustling demons around the room, the girl’s chatter at the table fizzled away until all that remained were the two of us and our locked eyes.
The passing of time couldn’t compete with the affection that bloomed between me and this demon.
The bubbling heat dancing around my chest was becoming too much, so I turned away.
I rose from my seat abruptly. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get some water if they have any.”
I started back toward the bar, eyes on my feet. I clenched the material of my shirt at my chest and tried to calm down my dizzying emotions. I knew better. He knew better. The two of us might’ve belonged to the same puzzle, but my edges had gotten too warped to ever fit with his again.
A pair of dark boots appeared directly in front of me, drawing me out of my spiraling thoughts. I barely managed to draw up short before colliding with the newcomer. Slowly, I looked up.
The demon in front of me had gold eyes with a vertical black pupil and antelope-like horns, which both identified him as a Mischief demon.
His electric blue hair stuck up at all angles, and baggy clothes hung off his tall yet lanky frame.
The minute I looked up at him, his fanged smile stretched eerily wide.
“Look who it is,” he cooed. “You look just as delicious as the last time we met.”
“Excuse me?” I questioned with a step backward.
This man was clearly confused. I’d never met this demon before. Sure, I’d been to hundreds of haunted locations, but demonic hauntings weren’t nearly as common as the media made them out to be. The only demons I’d met were Xander and his friends.
The demon licked his lips and raked his golden gaze over the length of my body. “Wanna be mine instead?”
Normally, I was all for the paranormal, which included anything demonic. But I didn’t give a damn that this guy was a demon. I glared at him and snarled, “Fuck off.”
A body stepped between us lightning fast. Xander had shifted into his demon form at some point, and his clawed hand extended to sheild me behind him as he growled at the stranger, “Stay the fuck away from her!”
I felt a crowd grow behind me, and when I looked over my shoulder, I found Zagan and Perseus now flanking my sides while Dante corralled the worried looking human girls away, including Addie who must’ve been on a dance break.
“Or what?” The blue-haired Mischief demon laughed haughtily as he passed a look between Zagan and Perseus before meeting Xander’s eyes.
“Are a couple of Incubi or a Mischief demon of your level supposed to stop me? Especially with your clearly weakened state? I have hundreds of spirits under my command. I could squash all three of you before any of you even realize I’ve moved.
You really think any of you low level demons would be a match for me if I wanted to take her? ”
Xander practically vibrated with rage in front of me, and before I knew what I was doing, I reached out to fist the material of his shirt at his back. He was snapping, and I didn’t like it. I wanted to ground him and keep him from doing anything dangerous.
Unbothered by the Mischief demon’s assessment, Zagan replied coolly, “Maybe not us, no.”
A towering figure stepped up behind the stranger.
The Mischief demon’s cocky attitude instantly faded along with the color from his face.
He turned around stiffly. Coldin, now with ram horns and black eyes with roaring flames within them, stared down at the stranger.
The blue-haired demon immediately stumbled away with a panicked gasp, though his eyes never wavered from Coldin as he retreated many steps.
Xander laughed darkly. “What was that you were saying?”
The Mischief demon scoffed between gritted teeth as his narrowed eyes landed on Xander. “Fucking pussy. Calling in your guard dog.”
“He’s a snake, not a dog,” Perseus corrected and cooly studied his heavily ringed fingers. “You’ll offend him by saying things like that, and I really don’t recommend that.”
Coldin’s clawed fingers rippled as though stretching each one in anticipation of putting the dangerously sharp digits to work. All the while, those flaming eyes stayed fixed on the Mischief demon.
The demon staggered back another step. “Fine. I’m leaving.” Those golden eyes flicked to me, and a hint of that dangerous smirk reappeared. “I’ll see you again very soon.”
Shadows wrapped around the demon, and when they cleared, the spot he’d stood in was empty.
The second he was gone, Xander grabbed my shoulders and looked me over frantically. “Did he do anything to you? Did he say anything weird?”
“What? No. I mean, that whole exchange in itself was weird, but he didn’t really say or do anything.”
“Are you sure?” Xander pleaded desperately.
Trepidation made my body heavy. I’d never seen Xander so shaken. I reassured, “I’m sure, Xander.”
He blew out a ragged breath and dropped his head while both hands still gripped my shoulders.
“Who was that?” I asked.
Xander shook his head feebly. “I’m not sure.” He pulled back to search my face once more, and while the fury still simmered in his gaze, they softened upon meeting mine. “I think that’s our signal to call it a night, though.”
I nodded slowly. As much as I’d appreciated Xander bringing me here and the distraction his group of friends provided, something about that demon rattled Xander, which in turn, unnerved me. Nothing got to Xander, so why had he?
When we returned to the dark room of the hospital ward’s common room turned bedroom, Xander sank heavily onto the edge of my bed like the energy had been knocked right out of him.
Admittedly, I, myself, was exhausted from the combination of my nightmare, the chaos of the club, and the bizarre interaction at the end.
But I momentarily forgot my own tiredness to place a hand on his shoulder and sat on the bed beside him.
“Are you alright?”
His gaze was trained on the floor, though it was unfocused, his mind far from here. “Mmn. Fine.”
He wasn’t fine. That much was obvious, so I tried to redirect his thoughts. “I know you’re a Mischief demon. Zagan, Perseus, and Dante are all Incubi. What kind of demon is Coldin that just the sight of him scares other demons?”
“He’s a Letum demon,” Xander answered almost robotically.
“He’s Hell’s most dangerous kind of demon, one that lusts after only one thing.
Death. Blood. Taking lives. He’s the Prince of Darkness’s favorite killer.
Though, he’s under our supervision right now since he’s part of the band.
He’s not allowed to kill unless he’s personally called in by Lucifer Himself on a job or unless it’s time for his one kill a month. ”
“I see.” That description certainly sounded fitting for the stoic demon.
He always had a sort of quiet yet dangerous air to him.
I frowned and dropped my hands to my lap.
“And that blue-haired demon … He was a Mischief demon like you, right? Why did he call you a low level demon when you’re the same kind he is? ”
Xander scrubbed his clawed hand over his cheek and answered slowly, “Do you remember what I told you a long time ago about Mischief demons having the ability to gather ghosts for their own sort of collection?”
I recalled that information provided years prior and nodded. I still hated the idea, even now.
“Well, it’s like he said. He apparently has hundreds of ghosts under his command, and for a Mischief demon, the more ghosts you have, the more powerful you are.
As they gather energy from hauntings and the like, that energy cycles back to the demon that owns them.
So even though we’re the same type of demon, he’s far stronger than I am. ”
“How does he know you don’t have any ghosts in your collection?”
“It’s something other Mischief demons can just sense about each other.
Granted, I have a lot of energy stored up right now from other things.
I can get power by scaring people myself, by getting a reaction out of humans with the chaos I create, and things like that.
But it’s not nearly the same as that never-ending stream we can get from our ghosts.
He knows that I’ll eventually run out of this type of burrowed power since Mischief demons can’t sustain it long term without constantly working to absorb more.
Meanwhile, he can sit back and do nothing while still growing stronger through his spirits.
I could sense his power radiating like a fucking lighthouse in the dead of night. Likewise, he could sense …”
“Sense?” I probed after his hesitation.
He shook his head, shoulders sagging with exhaustion. “Sense my lack of power. My lack of ghosts.”
That troubled gaze of his made something ache within my own chest. For both of our sakes, I had no plans to rekindle things with Xander, and I didn’t want to get his hopes up for anything. But I also wanted to ease whatever monsters plagued his mind as he had always done for me, including tonight.
I nudged him gently and teased, “One. You have one ghost, remember?”
His weary eyes widened slightly while still locked on the ground, no doubt remembering the exchange we’d had that night years ago when he’d said those same words to me.
He seemed to hold his breath now, and I wondered if it was because of the memories of that night or because the words suggested that I was his again.
At least for right now while he needed me.
Eventually, he turned his head slowly to meet my small, playful smile.
He cracked his own grin, even though a shadow of pain remained within it.
The sight made my heart constrict, because he probably took my words to mean the latter while also knowing how much of a lie they were.
But for now, he seemed content to pretend, too.
“Yeah,” he croaked as he leaned in to press his forehead to mine. “I have one.”