“Nice to see you too, Selene,” Lucien stated dryly.
Selene finally tucked the herbs into a pouch at her hip and faced me. “I can sense you have a good head on your shoulders, girl. And you come from a strong vampire lineage too. Try not to pollute yourself and any future lines you may produce by cavorting with this one.” She jerked her head toward Lucien. “He’s toxic.”
I didn’t point out that, currently, she was the one stinking up my bar. Instead, I gave her what I hoped amounted to a polite smile, then gestured toward the stairs. “Would you care to see the actual demon now?”
She nodded, then snapped her fingers and a leather satchel appeared. One she slung over her shoulder. Another snap of her fingers and a slender brass candleholder materialized in her other hand, her fingers quickly closing around it before it could fall.
Then she climbed the stairs toward my loft.
I slowly followed, with Lucien close on my heels.
“I brought quartz, black salt blessed by priests, and water purified in the holiest of founts,” Selene said, listing the ingredients like she was making soup. “I only hope it’ll be enough.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Do you have your checkbook?”
Lucien grunted. I assumed that was a yes. Already, I was tallying how much this would cost. I needed to start keeping a spreadsheet. I didn’t like owing people.
At the top of the stairs, she paused, glancing around the loft with narrowed eyes. Her nose twitched, no doubt still offended by the lingering pheromones Lucien and I had likely left behind.
“You really must air out this space,” she commented, reaching for a sprig of lavender from her pouch and waving it around the room.
Ugh, what was it with these people and lavender? This time, it was my nose that twitched, and Lucien and I shared an equally distressed glance.
Without waiting for my response, Selene continued into the loft and assessed the closed bathroom door. She knelt and laid out her supplies with exacting care, whispering to herself in a language I didn’t recognize. There was something hypnotic about the motion, and I found it challenging to look away.
I lingered in the doorway as she uncorked a vial of shimmering powder and sprinkled it in a slow arc. Then she lit a brass tapered candle with a whispered incantation. The flame flickered a strange blue.
“I’ve never seen an exorcism before,” I said. “What should I expect?”
“It really depends,” Selene said. “Every banishing is different.”
Before I could inquire further, Selene settled herself in front of the door, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. Then she reached into her satchel and retrieved a piece of chalk that shimmered faintly in the candlelight. Kneeling, she drew a half-circle around the door in slow and deliberate strokes.
“This bathroom has seen and done things,” she muttered, sniffing once. “Malevolent, ancient…definitely infernal.”
The moment she completed the circle, the door ripped open and wind burst outward. The enflamed candle in Selene’s hand flared, then nearly snuffed out.
“Oh, it’s feisty,” she said with a wicked gleam. “Excellent.”
Lucien and I backed up instinctively as Selene stood, thrust her hands toward the door, and chanted something sharp and rhythmic. Her bangles jingled with every motion, like magical percussion.
The temperature in the loft dropped. And the toilet growled, deeper than any werewolf. The door swung violently on its hinges and the lights flickered.
I gripped Lucien’s hand, my heart thundering in my chest.
But Selene didn’t flinch. She snapped her fingers again, and a gust of white sage-scented wind swirled through the loft, billowing her dress. She hurled the vial of shimmering powder directly at the toilet. The moment it made contact, a demonic scream ripped through the air. Lucien guided me behind him, as though to protect me from whatever evil resided in there.
The door slammed shut, the force shaking the walls. Then, slowly, it creaked open. For one brief, glorious second, I thought we’d won. Until the toilet suddenly spewed a torrent of black pungent water right at us. It nearly hit Selene, who spun away in a swirl of mist, but splashed Lucien’s shoes. He stared down at the mess with quite an unimpressed expression.
Selene reappeared a moment later and drew a sigil in the air. Then she snapped her fingers and uttered a single word—one I didn’t recognize.
The toilet howled.
The lights flickered.
The candle in her hand flared one final time—and went out.
Then silence. Utter, blessed silence.
We waited. One second. Two. Five.
