Page 46 of Demon Touched

When those thoughts start rearing their heads, I try to focus harder on my magic. At one point, I get a little cocky and even try to conjure one set of magic in each hand. It doesn’t work, the power fizzling out and fading before it can manifest, but there’s an exciting second when I think I might just do it.

It’s good that I’ve holed myself up in my room, because as the day wears on, the pain in my back grows until it’s worse than it’s ever been. Maybe I overdid it sparring yesterday or tired myself out messing around with my magic—or is it Syrus’s magic? But whatever the reason, the upper part of my back is taut and raw. As evening draws in, I decide it’s too painful to even keep my clothes on, the fabric chafing ruthlessly against the swelling ridges.

And that’s when Syrus finds me, lying naked from the waist up, balanced on my side, and reciting plant names to myself to distract from the throbbing between my shoulder blades.

At least the telltale warning of his arrival gives me a chance to tug my sheet up over my front, keeping me safe from my own wandering eyes and what Syrus might see through them.

“Where were you?” I ask, my pain and wafer-thin patience making each word drip with accusation. Maybe I lean into that irritation more than I need to, just to hide how intensely the relief hits.

“What do you mean?” Syrus asks, his tone quickly shifting from defensive to concerned. “What’s wrong?”

He sweeps through my body, slipping like silk beneath my skin—a touch so light on my back it could be a breath of air.

“You didn’t come,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut. “I needed to talk to you.”

“You mean last night? I know I was late, I’m sorry.” He settles into my body, stretching out like a cat. “By the time I could get away long enough to visit you, you were already asleep, but I did come.”

“Oh,” I say, partly because this didn’t occur to me but also because Syrus’s presence is doing something pleasant to the soreness in my back. “Oooh, right there. Whatever that was…do it again.”

“That helps?” he asks, and a ripple of sensation radiates through my muscles—a firm pressure that somehow reaches deep into the aching center of my pain. I arch a little, instinctively trying to lean into it. Syrus kneads across the tight, inflamed area, bringing such relief that I can’t help but release a low moan.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Syrus murmurs. He sounds amused, but a rough edge to the words hints at something hungrier.

I open my eyes. Now the pain has receded a little, I can remember what I wanted to tell him, the fear creeping back over me.

“Something happened yesterday,” I say. “There’s been a…development.”

“You learned more about the trials?” Syrus says, still using his magic to massage the knots around my shoulders. “Any luck with the oracle?”

“Yes to the first question, but no to the second. Turns out, no one knows much about the oracle. It’s some mysterious force or being that’s linked to the Everlight—I’m not sure which.”

“Not exactly helpful,” he points out.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” I say, wanting to cut to the chase. I sit up abruptly, hauling the sheet with me and folding my chest against my knees so I don’t feel too exposed. “Watch this.”

I hold out my hand and concentrate. Moments later, a swirl of shadow forms in my palm, twisting into a column that rises up past my fingers. Syrus’s presence in my mind stiffens at the sight.

“When did this begin?” he asks.

“Yesterday.” I fill him in about sparring with Rowan—as expected, mentioning his name earns me a disapproving huff from Syrus—and how I tripped him up.

“And you conjured the shadow even without me here?” he asks, so intent that he’s left off his massage.

“Don’t stop,” I say with a whine. He immediately returns to my back muscles, his magic pulsing through them.

“Yes,” I continue, sighing as he works me over. Even if I’m still in a lot of trouble, the relief of it soothes some of my worry too. “I figured it was like me being able to speak Cyrax. Just another side effect of the possession link. Am I right?”

“My guess would be yes, but I can’t know for certain. I suspect that the connection between us is so strong that its magic is influencing you beyond my control, passing over some of my powers and traits to you.”

“Well, as long as being a smug asshole isn’t one of them, I should be okay.” I’m mostly joking to try to take the edge off my panic about this whole thing, but I’m rewarded with a chuckle that I enjoy almost as much as his touch massaging along my spine. “But you say you’re not sure?”

He’s silent for a moment, considering his answer. “There’s no roadmap for the way the possession bond works because there’s never been a bond like ours before. Humans and demons cannot be linked this long. A demon possession would have killed an ordinary human by now. Your ephilium blood protects you. Perhaps this is how all such connections would develop over time given the chance—with the host slowly becoming more demonic.”

Demonic. Right. Exactly what a budding citizen of Aradis should be aiming for.

“Do you think it will get worse?” I ask, growing more nervous now. “Like will my eyes turn red or something?”

His presence sharpens a touch, developing an unexpected edge I don’t understand. “I don’t think so. You’re still more ephilium than demon. And more human than anything else.”