Chapter 3
Discovering a witch on the other side of the door shouldn’t be all that surprising.
The screaming, on the other hand, is a bit jarring.
She’s been doing it since the wood exploded.
Even after I crawled off her and shuffled back.
Not enough to put me back in the closet.
No fucking way am I doing that again. I spent enough time in there.
“Can you stop?” I wince as I shove my fingers in my ears. They’re ringing and I’m going to get a migraine. Not entirely sure if demons can get migraines, but I’m not willing to risk it.
“Seriously? You break my door, wreak havoc on my life, and crush me with your heavy ass and expect me to stop?” She paces in front of me, and I exhale heavily.
“Wait, you think my ass is heavy?” I crane my neck to look at my ass. It’s the same size it’s always been.
“That’s what you got out of—” She yelps, and I swing around in time to see her feet flying over her head as she crashes into the chair.
“Well, shit,” I mutter, shuffling closer to help her up.
She holds up her hands, and I stop. “I’m fine.”
She winces as she pushes to her feet. Huffing, she stomps across the hardwood floors and light floods the room. As much as I wondered what was on the other side of the door, I don’t give two shits about the space. Not now that I’m staring at her.
With her plump cheeks and even plumper lips, I’m already mesmerized.
Dark purple hair cascades down her back with wisps brushing her forehead.
She’s smaller than me. A lot smaller, but I tower over most humans, witch or not.
It’s her eyes, though, that capture me. I can’t tell if they’re blue or green or grey.
Maybe they’re somewhere in between. Even with the fire burning within them, her gaze captivates me.
In fact, it might be because of the blaze that I can’t seem to look away.
“You’re a spitfire, aren’t you?” I murmur. Immediately, I wish I could stuff the words back in. If the look on her face is any indication, she’s about to start hitting me again.
“Who are you? What are you?”
“I’m a demon. Name’s Dimitri.” I bow, though I don’t know why.
Maybe it’s habit. Except when I met queens in the past, I never bowed.
They didn’t deserve such deference. Most of them were catty bitches who just wanted to get back at shitty men.
I didn’t blame them, but it didn’t make me want to defer to them.
I clear my throat as I straighten. “And you are?”
“None of your business. How’d you get in the closet?”
I shrug, though she doesn’t seem satisfied with that. “Demons can be summoned—”
“I didn’t summon you,” she snaps.
“Well, I didn’t just pop up topside by myself, spitfire. I was perfectly content in Hell. Why isn’t there a handle on the inside?” I glance behind me at the door still hanging open. Still no way to get out if she closed it again.
She makes a frustrated noise in the back of her throat and pokes me in the chest. I didn’t even realize how close she got, and it takes everything in me not to do something I’ll probably regret.
I really like all my appendages attached to my body, and she seems like the type of witch to retaliate before thinking.
“I’m the one asking questions, demon,” she snaps.
I glance down at her finger still buried in my chest, wishing I wouldn’t have worn a shirt. “It’s Dimitri.”
She throws her hands up and paces away. I strain to make out her mutterings, but she’s too upset to speak clearly.
Plus, I’m pretty sure my hearing is wonky from the blast. I don’t know what she felt when I tumbled out of the closet.
Based on the redness splashed across her cheeks, now would be a bad time to ask.
“So, where’s your circle? Is it in the closet? Because it was too dark in there every time I got summoned.” I wander closer to my temporary prison, still worried about being sucked back in.
“I never summoned you. I don’t have a circle.” Her voice breaks at the last word.
I raise an eyebrow as she avoids my gaze. All the fight seems to have gone out of her. It’s then that I notice the dark rings under her eyes and the slight tremble in her hands. I may have thought this was a fun little banter session, but she’s clearly going through something.
I clear my throat, and she glances at me, then away. “Are you okay?”
She scoffs. “As if you care. You’re a demon.”
“Don’t know much about demons, do you?”
“I know you’re…” She frowns as she scans me from head to toe. “You’re grey. And from Hell. And a demon.”
I fight off a smile. “So almost nothing. Got it. Well, in order for us to come topside, we need a conduit. From what I understand, the only one left is a summoning circle, which can be found in certain witchy texts. I suppose it’s probably passed down from generation to generation, but it’s been a bit since I last spoke with a coven leader. ”
“Witchy texts?”
“Oh yeah. There used to be more of them, obviously. Then that whole burning thing happened. Add in the Alexandria debacle and you lost a lot. That was about the time we started keeping records. Actually, that was Karma’s idea.
It was a pretty good one, but don’t tell her that.
I’ll never hear the end of it.” I sigh heavily.
“An-y-ways…you don’t have a circle? You a coven leader? ”
“A coven—wait. You think I’m…no.” Her hand slashes through the air. “No, no, no. This isn’t a meeting of the minds. We’re not bridging the gap between witches and demons. We’re not going to try to bring our…species together in some grand gesture to save humankind or some bullshit.”
I tilt my head as my mind fixates on her calling us different species. Sure, she’s closer to humans than demons are, but we’re largely the same. Mostly. Kind of. We have the same parts even if they don’t work the same way all the time. Plus, we both have magic.
I shake my head and smile ruefully. “Wasn’t asking you to bridge a gap or save humanity, spitfire. Just wondered how I got here.”
“Well, I can’t answer your questions. I have enough problems on my own.”
“Like the douche canoe who was cheating on his girlfriend and she rightly dumped his ass? Seems like you handled that problem perfectly fine.”
Her eyes grow wide. “You heard that?”
I nod, fighting another smile. “And that weird breathy thing you did with your voice that’s notably absent now. It’s a nice touch, I gotta say.”
Her nostrils flare and her eyes narrow. “I don’t have to explain myself to you, demon.”
“Again with the demon? I’m beginning to think you’re not listening to me. It’s Dimitri. Not even a hard name to pronounce, really. Also, you’re going to need it soon.”
“Why on the great mother’s green earth would I need your name?” she spits out.
“To send me back to Hell. Or if you needed to summon me for something.”
An expressionless mask slips over her face. “What could I possibly need from you?”
“My best friend was summoned to open a jar of spaghetti sauce, so honestly it could be anything.” I shrug when her mask slips into incredulity. “I don’t make the rules, honey. I just break ’em when needed.”
She worries her bottom lip, and I can’t help but fixate on it.
Whatever she needs, it won’t be easy to get it out of her.
I shouldn’t care. I’ve got enough on my plate without taking on someone else’s issues.
Especially a cantankerous witch’s issues.
Except there’s a heaviness in her eyes that’s hard to ignore.
With Omen dealing with Clara and Triton up my ass about taking on more responsibilities, I really could use the distraction. Besides, I like being topside.
When the veil between our dimensions thins, I happily bounce between the two.
Never enough to put me down like these little sojourns have lately.
I like discovering new food and watching humans interact.
They’re fascinating, really. I used to feel the same way in Hell.
There was always something new to find down there.
Getting away to explore new dimensions now isn’t as easy.
I don’t mind training the new demons coming up the ranks or tracking down rogue dragons.
It just gets monotonous after a while. Add in Ludovic never giving me a fucking day off and I just want to get away.
“I don’t need your help. How do I send you away?” she says, pulling me back to reality.
“Um, I’m not entirely sure.” I grimace as she scowls at me.
“You said I needed to know your name to send you to Hell, yet you don’t know how I can accomplish that?”
I tilt my head from side to side, wondering how to explain this.
“I know how to deal with a witch who used a summoning circle. For one who doesn’t?
Not really. Unless you’re dealing in the dark arts or whatever they call it.
Did you make a deal? I can work with that.
In fact, I can deal with a lot of things. ”
“I’m sure you can,” she mutters.
I smirk, though she’s avoiding my gaze. “Definitely can help with most of your issues.”
She shoots me a sardonic smile. “I’ll pass. Go away.”
I glance down, waiting for my feet to disappear or the familiar swoop in my stomach.
Nothing happens. I cross my arms over my chest and let out a heavy sigh.
Exhaustion hits me hard, and my body sways as my vision blurs.
The last thing I need is to pass out in front of her.
She’d probably throw a rug over me and pretend I was just part of the decor.
“Why don’t you just say begone demon and we’ll see if that works.” While I might enjoy our banter, I won’t last much longer.
“Are you—nope. Fine. Begone demon.”
The swoop attacks my gut, yet something’s wrong.
I can’t quite put my finger on what as I’m whisked off to the void.
Whatever curse I’m afflicted with didn’t go away when the closet opened.
I just need to rest. As soon as I get some sleep, everything will right itself.
I’ll probably never see the witch again.
That thought shouldn’t bother me, but for some reason it does. I’m too tired to figure out why.
My feet slam into the hallway outside the door to my apartment. Bits of obsidian scatter across the floor. I barely make it through the entrance before I dry heave on the tiles. When I’m finally able to breathe again, I push to my feet and stagger toward my bedroom.
Omen calls his place a house, but that always felt weird to me.
It’s a house within a building within a dimension within Hell.
It’s not exactly like other worlds. There are layers upon layers of magical places to stay.
At least I had the good sense to ward my space from visitors other than Omen.
I wouldn’t put it past some demons to just pop in whenever they felt like it.
I collapse into my bed while my head swims. I’ll either end up falling asleep immediately or puking all over my sheets.
There will be no in-between. As my eyes flutter closed, a strange tugging in my chest jolts me upright.
Exhaustion swamps me and I flop back once more.
Whatever curse this is, I need to figure it out quick.
Maybe the little spitfire witch could cure me. It’s my last thought before darkness takes me.