Page 10 of Realm of the Wicked

Any words I might have said were useless, caught somewhere between my heart and my lungs. I had felt someone’s eyes on me since that day on the trail. I had felt the heavy weight of the conversation we had settling around my shoulders like a chain, an unfinished promise.

I hadn’t been crazy. I hadn’t been sleep-deprived. Someone had been watching me. Stalking me. The man I met on the trail was possibly psychotic, definitely dangerous, and now he was in my bedroom.

Countless late-night crime shows while Grace struggled to sleep taught me enough in this situation. Stay calm. Let them think they have the upper hand. Call for help. Find a weapon.

I focused on slowing the beating of my heart and wiped my sweaty palms on my sheets. Stay calm. If he was as dangerous as he seemed, he probably had backup somewhere.

‘How did you get in here?’ I asked.

He shrugged, effortlessly graceful in his movements. ‘Does it matter? I’m here now. I held up my end of the bargain and cured your sister. Now, it’s your turn.’ His clothing was far more casual than it had been on the trail, a sweater that draped over him like a second skin, and yet just as fine.

He’d offered to cure Grace. I told him I’d give anything. Her health… for my soul. I said I’d give him my soul if she would be cured. The thought ripped through my brain before I could stop it. I offered a psychotic man my soul, and now he thought he had something to do with Grace’s healing.

Worse, maybe he did. Maybe he’d dosed our water with some illegal drug or another.

It was just a coincidence. It had to be a coincidence. My hand inched toward my phone I knew was charging on my bedside table. I just needed to press the emergency call button, and the cops would be on their way.

Let them think they have the upper hand. ‘I thought you said you weren’t a miracle worker.’

He smirked, a cooler smile than I’d seen him use on the trail, sending chills across my skin. ‘I’m the furthest thing from a miracle worker, actually.’ He picked up the conch shell that sat on my dresser, staring at it like it was from outer space before placing it back down.

I wanted to tell him not to touch my things. Somehow, I didn’t think he was going to listen.

‘Well, obviously you have to be something if you cured my sister.’ My hand was less than a foot away from my phone now. ‘I’m pretty sure normal people can’t make incurable illnesses go away.’ No one could make incurable illnesses go away, but I left that part out. Really the only two options here were that he was mentally unstable, or that he’d actually helped.

‘I never said I was normal, either.’ His gaze cast around my room, and he wrinkled his nose at the pile of laundry sitting in my armchair that I hadn’t yet put away. He pushed the clothes off and took a seat, leaning back in my chair as if it were a throne. ‘Come on now. You’re smarter than that. You just haven’t been paying attention, Stella.’

My hand froze inches away from my phone. ‘You know my name.’

‘Of course I do. I’m not going to agree to a soul as payment without knowing something about a person.’ He rolled his eyes and brushed a stray lock of hair away from his face. ‘Really, what do you take me for?’

‘I don’t think it’s very fair if you know all this stuff about me, and I don’t even know your name.’ He had obviously been watching me for longer than I realized. My hand crawled toward my phone once more, only an inch away now.

‘Damien. Now let’s think about the events of the last few weeks logically, shall we? I don’t have all night to bring you up to speed. I’m a very busy man.’ His long, elegant fingers tapped on the edge of my chair, impatient. His silver rings clicked against the arm, a ticking clock I’d rather ignore.

Damien. A dark name to suit the dark figure watching me in my room, while I struggled to maintain control of the situation. I could’ve sworn smoke curled around my chair, drifting into the air.

‘Of course.’ My fingers found purchase, curling around the edges of my phone. Call for help.

‘I’ve cut the signal coming into your apartment. Your call will go nowhere.’

My eyes widened and I scrambled to focus on the screen. The glare blinded my eyes, confirming exactly what Damien had said. No signal.

‘How… how did you cut the signal?’ I whispered. What little control I held over the situation was fast slipping out of my grip, little by little, leaving me grasping at air while the floor gave way beneath me.

Damien leveled me with a dark stare, apparent even in my dimly lit room. ‘Think, Stella. Who could you make a deal with that would have the power to cure your sister?’

An angel. The answer sprang to my mind, unbidden, but I knew it was wrong. There needed to be a logical explanation for this. Despite my better judgment, my brain desperately tried to make sense of the situation. The man in front of me was no angel, unless I’d been reading all the wrong books my entire life. He wasn’t an angel, he wasn’t a miracle worker, but he could work miracles, and he’d taken a soul as payment. A psychotic breakdown wasn’t entirely off the table, but something thrummed in my heart, a thread of something that felt true.

He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t an angel.

I owed him my soul.

‘You’re getting closer.’ Damien smirked, running a finger across his lips as he watched me. ‘And before you ask, no, I can’t read minds. You’re just an open book. Every emotion is scrawled across your skin for anyone to take. Fear. Loyalty. Anger.’ His voice trailed off, something underneath the words, something he wasn’t speaking aloud. The confidence that seemed so reassuring on the trail now seemed darker. Tainted.

‘A demon,’ I murmured finally. ‘You’re a demon. If you’re not crazy…’

‘I’m not.’ His smirk widened into a grin, not helping the argument.