Page 36 of Demonic Delights

“He refused to see me afterwards, no matter how hard I begged, no matter how many times I tried to call, how many times I waited in front of his house. He blocked my phone number, and he pretended not to see me each time he walked past me as I knelt in tears on his front step, begging him to give me one more chance to be his daughter. He carried on sending the alimony until I was eighteen. But he never spoke to me again.”

I bring the wine glass to my shaking lips and drink deeply, the alcohol sending a comforting wave of warmth throughout my body. Then I narrow my eyes at Sangrel, trapping him in my gaze.

“My point is, I’m sick of being discarded. I don’t want you to do that to me. I don’t want to be just another woman in my family to burn at the stake for your benefit.”

His nostrils flare, and for a moment, I brace myself, expecting him to chew me out. But instead, he stands up and walks over to sit next to me, pulling his chair closer to mine with a scrape on the floor.

He winds his hand through my hair and jerks on it to force me to look at him. I don’t resist, not even when my eyes water with pain and my heart speeds up, fuelled by instinctive fear.

“That’s an insulting way of looking at it. I expected better from you,” he growls at me.

“Oh, I beg your finest fucking pardon. It’s only that Goodwoman Stubbs told me that demons leave the host’s body once they fulfil the purpose of their possession and that this kills the host. Was she wrong?” I raise my eyebrows at him challengingly.

“No, but ...”

“Then how fucking else am I supposed to be looking at it?”

“Like at the highest privilege of your life!” He raises his voice indignantly but lets go of me.

“I don’t give a shit about privilege!” I boom, my volume exceeding his, and I bang my fist down on the table, forgetting all about my earlier fright. “What I care about is getting fucked so thoroughly every night that I can hardly walk the next day. I care about not being so fucking alone all the time. I care about feeling like someone finally sees me and doesn’t want to look away!” I deflate as quickly as I exploded, suddenly exhausted. “Stay with me,” I plead with him firmly. “Stay with me until he’s grown. Agree to that, and I won’t resist your will. I will carry and raise your son for you. I’ll do anything you want. What’s eighteen years to a demon?”

I’m astonished to see something close to pain in the deep grooves on his brow.

“You do not understand, dark darling. An oath binds me. One that I cannot break lest I shall be forever banished to a limbo between those living and dead.”

He grabs my hand in his, large and warm. “In a thousand years, I have never once doubted my decision to take my vow. Not until you. Now I cannot help but think that had I met you when I was still a mortal man, I would have never sworn myself to the Underworld.”

He lowers his head, and his lips brush my knuckles.

“Oh.” All the arguments I wanted to hurl at him die in my mouth.

“But I have chosen the way of shadows and declared my maker my Enemy. Even if I can see now that it has come at a cost.” He shakes his head, his hair undulating in waves. “Do not think for a moment that you are getting the less desirable part of our bargain. Time stretches forever for me, and my desire for you stretches with it. For thousands of years after you will have turned to dust, I will still be haunted by my memories of you.”

A meaningful, loaded silence descends upon us during which I ponder the implications of his words and all possible outcomes for us, my mind spinning.

“Do not squander the time that we have, Roxana,” he speaks again after a while. “For all that you’re doing to me, I am going to breed you. A blissful surrender is so much better for you than a painful defeat. Why resist what you can savour instead?”

Well, shit, I think grimly.

Instead of replying, I abandon my glass and take a deep swig straight from the nearly empty bottle of wine.

15

SILAS

Ibolt upright with a rasping inhale. And immediately after, I groan, clutching my pounding head, the dim bedroom tilting on its axis around me. Roxana stirs next to me with a faint moan but doesn’t wake.

Dawn must be near, the first rays of dull, grey daylight falling in through the open curtains. But when did I go to bed? When did I come home from work? Once again, I have no recollection of that. The last thing I remember is the lamb chop dinner Roxana made for me on Monday night. But I haven’t the faintest clue how much time has passed since then.

A sense of paralysing dread settles over me as I’m forced to admit to myself that these blackouts keep getting drastically worse. I have never felt so helpless in my life. I have had things go wrong in my external circumstances, such as getting passed over for tenure once. And I have had things go wrong with my body, like when my carpal tunnel got so bad three years ago that I needed surgery. But to have my mind turn against me is to be more hopeless than I have ever been. My whole life, I thought that getting cancer or other grave illnesses of the body would be the worst disaster that could happen to me. But what wouldn’t I give for even that if it meant that I could be myself again and not lose time?

Anything.

I would give anything.

My mouth is completely dry, and trying to swallow feels like ingesting razors. I reach for the glass of water on my nightstand, my muscles protesting and my vision swimming. I knock it to the ground with a splash and a thud, though luckily the glass doesn’t break. Roxana moans louder and rolls to her side, her back to me, the duvet sliding down her bare back until it rests around the sharp curve of her waist.

I groan soundlessly and collapse back onto the pillow, closing my eyes. And as I do, snippets of something come back to me. Something that is like a dream of a nightmare. I close my eyes to delve deeper into my scattered memories, replaying them in my mind’s eye.