So I do.
“Demon of night, you who dwells in the shadows…” My voice trails off for a moment before I turn my head to stare at him. “Demon? What… whatisthis?”
Movement overhead can be heard—footsteps and multiple sets of them—and his eyes dart to the ceiling, eyes narrowing momentarily.
“Hurry. No time for this,” he grits out.
And suddenly, My Atticus looks different. Stressed, anxious, even a bit angry. But I’m scared of getting caught too, so I guess I understand him.
“Demon of night, you who dwells in the shadows,”I start again,“meet me here in the valley of the living.”
This… this doesn’t feel very good. The valley of the living? The fuck? But the man beside me is shifting impatiently, his hand rubbing smoothly down my back as if to spur me on.
It works.
“I call your name, with these words my soul I expose; grant my wish for a price befitting.”The room around me is growing hotter, my palms slicking as I speak.
These phrases—or this spell?—sound an awful lot like I’m making a deal with a demon. My Atticus wouldn’t hurt me, not when he wants forever with me, right?
What demon are we dealing with? I’ve never been a very religious guy, but if the man next to me’s presence isn’t proof enough of something bigger than I am, what is?
Will the demon leave us both alone? What will he ask for, and what price are we going to pay?
“Prince of darkness—”
The door to the small room we’re in swings open at the top of the stairs, and My Atticus goes rigid, his fingers digging into the shoulder.
“Hurry,” he hisses.
“Ouch,” I wince, attempting to twist from his hold. “That hurts.”
“Hurry!”
“Atticus?” a small voice calls, and I turn my head to see Atlas, with Julian hot on his heels as they reach the bottom of the stairs. I can see two more sets of footsteps, but the wall thatblocks most of the staircase is keeping me from recognizing their owners.
“Cameron,” Julian says, not looking away from the man next to me once. “Step away from it.”
“It?” I question, a cold chill running through me despite the heat of the room.
“That is not Atticus,” he tells me.
“I know… but he’sconnectedto him. He won’t hurt anyone.” I don’t know why I’m suddenly defending him, but the way in which they’re staring makes me believe they are afraid.
Atlas shakes his head softly, taking a step up on the stairs to lean into Julian. “No, not connected. Incontrolof.”
“Control of?” I sound like a stupid parrot, repeating their words constantly.
“Corculum,”My Atticus hisses.“Finish now. You want forever,sic?”
“No, Cameron,” Julian insists. “Whatever it’s promised you, it’s lying.”
“Non.”
“He… he wouldn’t lie,” I assure him. “He wants to stay with me. Let me finish, and we’ll leave.”
“No!” Atlas screeches. “Thatthingwants Atticus. It wants to live in our realm!”
Atlas has been cursed before, so maybe he’s right? But if that’s the case, wouldn’t that mean that…
