“Miss Sandoval?” A masculine voice says through the door, sounding almost professional. “I’ve been sent to return you to the mortal realm.”
I close my eyes. My throat is raw, and my head is pounding. I don’t answer, I just nod, even though they can’t see it. The door opens slowly, and a man steps inside. He’s tall with emerald green eyes, dark black hair that’s short and a little wavy, and two horns that match the colour of his eyes that slightly curl from his temples. They’re not as big as Korithax’s, but they’re larger than the younger servants I’ve seen around here. He’s neatly dressed in a simple black suit, and a face that is just as pale as mine. He looks like he doesn’t know how to smile. Not cruel, not kind. Just... neutral.
“Are you ready?” He asks.
No, not even a little. But when has that ever mattered? I push myself upright and stand on unsteady legs, wincing slightly as I straighten my skirt. My shoes are missing, and the horns are still sitting on the nightstand. Those stupid glittery horns. I give them one last look and then leave them behind, along with the green vial. He raises a hand and conjures a portal that looks like a thin shimmer, kind of like glass warping in the air. I watch with fascination, my eyes not quite believing what they’re seeing. Maybe I’m still unconscious at the party, maybe I’m still lying in that bed, Ethan still… still…
I shut the thought down, taking a small inhale whilst looking at my apartment at the other side of the portal. Home is waiting on the other side. My life is awaiting. The world where none of this makes any sense.
“This will be painless,” he says. “Step through when you’re ready.”
I nod, swallow, and step forward. I pause, glancing back at the room. The bed, the blanket, the bottles, one still full.The place where the Prince of Hell himself carried me, covered me, and then shredded me with words sharper than a dagger. Something shifts in my chest. Not grief, not anger… something that feels older than both, something that feels like it’s trying to wake up.
I step through the portal, the glass-like hole closing behind me with a soft snap, and I fall to my knees and scream.
The quiet ofthe apartment presses in on me, thick and suffocating. I’m both physically and emotionally exhausted. The rawness of what happened lingering in my chest. A dull ache that sits just beneath the surface. I sit there, curled up in the corner of my couch, blankly staring for what feels like hours.
I spot my phone on the kitchen counter, and it buzzes as I look at it. I force myself up to grab it, the screen lighting up with an abundance of notifications.
54 messages.
Ezra:Are you okay???
Talia:WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?
Ezra:Daze, please respond.
Talia:I swear to god if Ethan did something, I will bury him alive.
Ezra:Daisy. It’s bad. Please call us.
Talia:Ethan’s dead. Daisy. His bones. His fucking bones.
Before I can even begin to process that last message, a loud bang sounds at the door. Panic floods through me, my pulse quickening to an alarming rate as I freeze. Ezra’s voice breaks through the silence, and I exhale sharply, the panic leaving my body as quickly as it came.
“Daisy?! Open the door. Please!”
I stumble across the room and pull it open. They’re both standing there, Ezra’s eyes wide and Talia’s face is streaked withmascara, her body trembling like a live wire ready to snap. Their eyes sweep over me, over the devil costume I still have on, the bruises marring my arms, and my tear-streaked cheeks. There’s no need for words, because the silence says it all.
“Daisy?” Ezra says, his voice breaking. “What the fuck happened?”
Talia doesn’t wait for an answer. She pushes past me, storming inside. “Did you know about Ethan?”
I don’t answer at first, I just close the door behind them, leaning my back on it, slowly sliding down until I’m once again sitting on the floor, hugging my knees. I take a slow, deep breath and start speaking, the floodgates opening. It’s a rush of words, broken and jagged, pouring out of me like vomit without a moment to spare for breath. Because if I stop, I don’t know if I’ll be able to continue.
The bargain. The demon in my apartment. The party. The drinks. The drugged drinks. The bedroom. The plea for help.
Korithax.
I mechanically stand, walking over to my counter to grab the card that the Prince of Hell left me after his first visit, handing it to Ezra. His message seems to taunt me:
Your soul now belongs to me.
They’re both silent for a moment too long as I nervously chew my bottom lip, tears brimming in my eyes.
“Holy shit,” Ezra breathes, eyes wide.
“I’m gonna kill him again,” Talia snaps. “I don’t care if he’s already dead. I’ll go to Hell myself.”
