Chapter 8
“Oh, no. No, no, no. You’re not allowed here. You’re supposed to be banished, never to return,” I cry as purple smoke billows around me. Lightning flickers within the fog, revealing a dark form.
Despite the theatrics, I know it’s that damn demon.
Actually, because of the theatrics, I’m certain it’s him.
There was a gleam in his eyes the first time we met.
He’s a troublemaker. I can feel it in my bones.
My bones that are still trying to figure out whether they want to be solid or liquid, but that’s neither here nor there.
“Sorry to disappoint, spitfire,” he wheezes as the smoke clears, then drops to his knees.
“Are you bowing or are you hurt?”
A groan is his only response. His forehead almost touches the floor, and I freeze.
I don’t know how to help a demon. Hell, I barely know how to heal a human, much less someone like him.
I’m not equipped for this. It’s not like they taught us at school.
Even when we had those ridiculous classes, they didn’t focus on healing so much as protection.
I rush forward as he tips to his side, unsure if I should touch him or let him fall.
When he was here before, I swear I got shocked when he picked me up.
He’s crackling like a campfire in the middle of summer, burning from the inside out.
If he bursts into flames in the middle of my living room, I’m going to be pissed.
I can imagine the 911 call now. Yes, there’s a demon who detonated in my living room and now the house is on fire. Can you send someone before he burns my sister’s house down?
“Do not combust. Just…stay here,” I say as if he could stop himself. Maybe he can. As he so helpfully pointed out, I don’t know a lick about demons.
I rush to the kitchen and end up emptying an entire cupboard searching for a plastic pitcher. It’s stuffed all the way in the back, of course. Even with the water on full blast, it still takes forever to fill. I bounce from one foot to another, urging it on.
Glancing around the space, I scan for my fire blanket.
Percy bought me one for solstice one year after she almost burned down her living room.
Apparently her fireplace wasn’t a fireplace.
I’d say I was surprised, but it’s par for the course for her.
That year, everyone she knew got a fire blanket. I just can’t remember where I stuck it.
Water splashes on my shirt and bare legs. I stutter to a stop, slopping more onto the floor. In the middle of everything, I forgot I’m not wearing pants. Or shorts. And this shirt isn’t particularly long. Another groan from the living room has me rushing to Dimitri.
I barely register he’s sitting with his back against the couch before I’m throwing the entire pitcher on him. He sputters and flails. I wince, dancing out of his reach. I’d rather not get shocked or smacked. Either seems like an option at this point.
“What the fuck was that?” he roars as he struggles to his feet.
“Water?” I clamp my mouth shut as he slips on the hardwood and crashes onto the couch.
I retreat farther, closer to the front door.
I’m not about to stick around if he attacks me.
He might not seem like the type, but I’ve met plenty of good guys who turned out to be nasty pieces of work.
They hide behind a smirk and an easy-going nature.
Then they turn on you when you’ve slighted them.
Besides, I don’t really know Dimitri. He is a demon, after all.
I don’t know why it matters so much, but my mind keeps reminding me of that fact.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he snaps, though he makes no move to get up again. At least he fell onto the couch. In fact, he could close his eyes and take a little nap. It’s a good thing I hate that couch or I’d be upset he’s soaking the cushions.
“You yelled. Figured I’d give you some space.” It’s the most neutral response I can come up with.
His dark gaze scans me from head to toe, and a single eyebrow pops up. “Planning on running out the door?”
I grit my teeth as the fear and insecurity slink away. “If I needed to.”
“Without pants?” He smirks, and I flip him off. He closes his eyes and flings his arm over his face. “Besides, it’s never a good idea to run from a demon.”
“Oh? And why’s that?” I sneer.
“We like the chase.” He peeks at me and smirks. “Unless that’s what you’re going for. I’m more than willing to partici—”
He groans, his body curling as pain assaults him.
I take a step as he almost falls onto the floor, though I doubt I’d be able to catch him.
Do I get more water? Flour? He isn’t smoking anymore.
He is crackling again, though. I don’t know if I’m supposed to treat this like an electrical fire or not.
I really didn’t think this through. He lies back once more, panting.
Small sparks dance along his skin, and I realize he’s not wearing a shirt.
“I really need you to not set my couch on fire. I don’t have enough baking soda to put you out, and I’m running low on flour. Plus, the flour would stick to you, and I’d really rather not track it all over. Wet flour is a bitch to clean up.”
He gives me a long-suffering look, then shakes his head. “I won’t.”
Pressing my lips together, I turn back to the kitchen to get towels. “Good to know.”
This is the point where things get awkward.
He’s vacillating between being pissy and making comments.
Inappropriate comments. I’m sure he’s not trying to hit on me.
Maybe it’s part of being a demon—like the chasing.
A shiver rolls through me, and I shove the feeling deep. I’ll examine it later. When I’m alone.
I spin around as I reach the threshold. “You can’t read my thoughts, right?”
His eyebrow pops up once more, much to my dismay. “No. That’s more of a dragon thing. Not a demon one. Magic doesn’t work like that. Although…”
I gesture for him to continue when he presses his lips together. “Although, what?”
He closes his eyes again. “Not important. Just rambling. Can I have some water? To drink…not thrown in my face. Please.”
My mouth drops open, then I snap it shut. I shouldn’t be surprised he’s polite. I’m still battling the preconceived notions I grew up with. Dimitri is nothing like I was taught.
Despite what I told him earlier, I desperately want to know more. Asking him would require us to get to know each other, though, and I don’t have time for that. I lost too much of it while I was sick. I’m still not doing well, but I can’t keep putting things off.
When I bring him a glass, I set it on the side table.
With his eyes closed and his breathing even, I’m pretty sure he’s asleep.
He can’t be very comfortable. My couch isn’t that big, especially for a demon well over six feet.
I didn’t really notice before since I was distracted by the grey skin and random short circuits.
Plus, I was too busy freaking out about the closet, and then I was too sick.
I end up spreading a blanket over him. It doesn’t seem like enough.
I’m not going to try to move him to my bed, though.
I’d rather the claws he’s suddenly sporting not slash me to ribbons.
Where they came from is just another question I won’t be asking.
Some of them are too personal, others too weird.
So instead of waking him up and asking him, I curl up in the wingback chair and write them all down.
It’s the best I can do. Maybe Percy knows something.
She’s too perceptive, though. She’ll demand to know why I’m suddenly interested in demons when I never was before.
Most witches go through a Hell phase. It’s not always demons.
Sometimes they study the magic, the dimensions, or the void.
They pore over ancient texts and seek out elders, all in the thirst for knowledge.
Most covens allow them to pick what they want.
I didn’t get those choices. I had to research plants, potions, and practices surrounding them.
It was boring as fuck and I hated every minute of it.
At least Lark got spells, though she was sent to clean out the attic when she was caught looking at the dark ones.
They weren’t even that bad, but Aunt Star was kind of a bitch.
I never did fully figure out what happened in her life to make her so distrustful of…
well, everything. Other than the obvious.
I suppose I’d hate the world if Lark dove deep into sorcery. Oh right, she probably did.
By the time the sun sets, I’ve got a list two pages long.
My eyes droop, and I vow to get up soon.
I need to make myself dinner. And clean the bathroom.
And pull everything out of the closet. There must be something in there to find my sister.
Maybe she stuck a parchment under a loose floorboard with specific instructions about what the hell she did.
If I’m lucky, there’ll be a note telling me exactly where she went and how to find her.
Minutes or hours later, I’m jostled awake. It takes me longer than it should to register the strong arms cradling me and the warm chest under my cheek. I should protest or demand he put me down. Except the lack of sleep has rendered me useless.
“Shit,” he mutters as he trips over nothing.
“Down,” I whine.
“Nah. Least I can do is put you to bed. Gotta get that fire back somehow, and sleeping in a chair ain’t gonna do it.”
“You talk funny,” I mumble.
He lowers me onto my bed and slides his hands from under me. The claws are nowhere to be found, thankfully. I watch him through slits as a range of emotions passes across his face too quickly for me to fully grasp.
“What do you mean?”
It takes me a second to remember what I said. “You speak like a human. Like you’ve been here a lot.”
“Would you prefer I be posh and aristocratic?”
I snicker at his poor attempt at a Cockney accent. “Did you get your training from movies? Is there cable in Hell?”
“No. I’ve just spent more time than most topside.” Indecision dances in his black eyes. “Did you give any more thought to my proposal?”
I swallow hard and suddenly don’t know what to do with my hands. “Seems like you’re getting the better end of the deal there. All I get is some information. You get a whole curse undone.”
He cocks his head to the side and studies me. “Well, I was hoping you’d feed me, too.”
“So, I feed you, break your curse that probably doesn’t exist, and I get lessons in demons?” The longer he talks to me, the more awake I am, which only leaves room for frustration to creep in.
He shrugs, his grey skin glittering in the moonlight filtering through the window. “You could ask me for just about anything and I’d give it to you. Even if you don’t help me, I still probably would.”
“Why?” As soon as the question pops out, I wish I could stuff it back in. I don’t care why. Maybe a little, but definitely not enough to demand he tell me.
The corner of his mouth tips up. “Dunno. Just something about you. So, what would you like in exchange for your witchy abilities?”
I struggle to sit upright, and he sways closer.
I ignore the movement, not entirely sure whether I want him touching me.
Every time he has, I get a weird feeling in my chest. It’s been a while, but I don’t think curses can rub off on someone else.
It’s not a cold one could catch. Except that only pertains to curses on witches and humans.
Demons probably have a whole other set of rules.
I swing my legs over the side and face him.
“What if I can’t help you?”
“Helping only requires trying, spitfire. As long as you try, you’ll help.” He shrugs again, the movement jerky. “At this point I’m desperate, and the only time I feel normal is here or when I’m sleeping in Hell.”
“Demons sleep?”
He chuckles breathlessly. “I’ll tell you if you agree to break this curse.”
I huff, tipping my head back. “Fine. I’ll help you, but I want more than knowing shit about demons and Hell.”
He steps closer and our knees brush. Tiny shocks skip up my thighs, and heat settles between my legs. This was not part of the deal.
Percy was kind enough to fill me in on what she knew about demons.
It wasn’t much. I was able to dodge why I wanted to know, and she chalked it up to being bored.
Of course, she didn’t tell me anything useful, really.
All she could talk about was how hot they supposedly were and how amazing they were in bed.
She regaled me with stories of past witches having mortal men ruined for them by getting dicked down by a demon.
Staring at Dimitri and the glint in his eyes, I believe the tales.
“What exactly would you like, Mari?” he murmurs, a dark seduction weaving its way through the air. It wraps around my body, and I suppress a shudder of anticipation.
I open my mouth, then snap it shut when his pupil flashes purple. The deep color bleeds into his irises, and he leans back.
“Dimitri?” He doesn’t respond, his gaze fixed on a point over my head. “Water. I’ll get you some water.”
Either he’ll poof out of existence again or he’ll create a lightning storm in my bedroom. Not exactly the type of lightning I was fantasizing about a minute before. I rush for the bathroom and grab the cup. At least this one fills faster than the last one.
“What else?” I ask as I step back into the now empty room. “What the fuck.”
Dimitri, facedown and cockeyed on my bed, must have passed out. At least his back is rising and falling in an even rhythm.
“Thirty seconds, dude. I was gone for thirty seconds, and you take over my bed? This isn’t…
I should banish you. That’s exactly what I should do.
Because we’ve spent a total of maybe an hour together.
” I shuffle around the room, picking up abandoned clothes and kicking things into the closet.
“I don’t know you. You don’t know me. For all I know, you’re a figment of my imagination.
Yet here I am, contemplating just saying fuck it and crawling in next to you. ”
This is madness personified. My brain tells me to be afraid, to worry he’ll eat me.
My body tells me he’s the safety I’ve been craving.
Whatever magic this is, I’m too tired to fight it.
Still, I tiptoe to the kitchen and grab the salt before I slide in next to him.
By the time I’ve built a pillow dam, I’m too tired to fight sleep.