The human either hadn’t heard or had pretended not to—or perhaps he just wasn’t interested in anything real. Knight had been too much of a coward to find out which.
“Where do you think?” Pink replied, entirely seriously.
“How would that even work?” Knight asked, pretending not to know.
“A contract,” Pink said, way too easily for his liking. Then she shrugged. “Or a human soul; I’m not picky.”
“Better not let Ammon catch you saying that.”
Pink rolled her eyes. She had her knees bent, bare feet flat on the branch, and pulled them closer to her chest so she could lean forward. Her robes, like most of the other demons’ clothes, swirled around her in the form of dark shadows, with slits that went up her thick legs and thighs, exposing her dark plum skin to the night air.
She looked into his eyes, one after the other like she was searching for something.
“I look into your eyes,” she whispered, “and I see a reflection of my own.”
“Eyes do tend to be reflective, yes.”
She rolled her eyes again. “You stopped dreamscaping with the rest a few months ago. You found a human, didn’t you?” she asked bluntly.
“Please lower your voice.” His tone was playful, but he still glanced around to make sure they were still alone.
Down where the demons gathered, Knight noticed Ammon wasn’t a part of the crowd looking to dreamscape. Of course he wasn’t.
Sometimes, Knight felt like he’d escaped one sect only to end up right in another. These demons—rebel, runaway nicquiris—mightpretendnot to be a sect, but they sure acted like one sometimes. Ammon was the oldest and the most powerful, and, in a “normal” sect, he would be their Sovereign. He was literally that except in name. Where most typical sects were built to farm human souls and emotion, making their members—and mostly their Sovereigns—ever more powerful, Knight’s fellow escaped nicquiris prided themselves on doing the exact opposite.
Feeding on human emotions was strictly forbidden. In fact, physically attempting to get to the human world was strictly forbidden. Aiming to get a human soul? You might as well ostracise yourself. None of these were hard-written rules, but Knight knew they were rules all the same. Whatever the sects believed to be good and right, the runaway nicquiris thought they were bad and wrong.
That didn’t stop them from dreamscaping, though. Nicquiris were the only demons to have the ability to see and travel the Veil, the thin “curtain” that separated Hell from the mortal realm. Perhaps it was a result of their enslavement, or perhaps it was because it was something they were justbornto do, but they just couldn’t resist going into the dream world of humans to wreak havoc and get high on the pseudo-endorphins.
It wasn’treallyfeeding on humans, obviously, so it didn’t count.
If Ammon knew Knight had formed some kind of addiction to one human in particular, that he’d communicated with said human and made a pact with him—taughthim how to draw asummoningcircle—he’d be ostracised with immediate effect. Not to talk of all the other feelings Knight was having; his discontent with this life, all the running and hiding and running and hiding, but if anyone had asked what hedidwant, what hepictured when he thought of his future, he wouldn’t have had an answer.
Pink was smirking. “So, youdidmeet a human.”
Knight thought of all of Pink’s disappearances lately, of the way she just seemed toglowfrom the inside, like she held a precious secret, and was hit with a dawning realisation.
“So did you.”
Pink looked unapologetic. “I’ve had a few contracts.”
“Pink.” Knight dramatically clutched at his chest, pretending to be scandalised.
“Mostly with the same human, don’t worry,” Pink said, her lips quirked. She seemed to be trying to control her expression, but her fluttering wings gave her away. Her mouth spread, almost without her control, her eyes dancing with a happiness that filled Knight with a strange envy. “I really think I might stay there, Cunning. I’m just ... I’m tired of running. I just want a home. A place I can truly belong.”
Knight’s throat felt strangely constricted. “And you think you’ve found that?” he forced himself to ask. “In the mortal realm?” His voice was barely a whisper.
“I think I have,” Pink said softly.
It felt like blasphemy to even admit it. Knight’s hands clenched, that strange tightness in his throat increasing at the thought of it. Running off to the human world and finding love, a place at someone’s home and hearth, where he could stop running and take a breath, figure out who he was and what he wanted—
“Pink,” he said, unsure what else to say.
“Oh, please,” she said, waving off his worry. “You’ve been doing the same thing, haven’t you?”
Slowly, Knight shook his head. “Only in the dreamscape. I’ve never been—only in the dreamscape.”
“Oh.” Suddenly, Pink looked uncomfortable. She pulled her knees tighter to her chest, her wings wrapping protectively around her.
