Page 10 of The Devil and His Ghost

“I know,” Dr. Roberts replied patiently. “I believe you.”

“No, you don’t,” she gritted out.

“I do. I believe that you believe you see something.” The doctor splayed his hands wide and gestured at her. “So, please. Tell me what you saw that brought you here today.”

The ticking of the clock on Paul’s desk was deafening in the tense silence. Slowly, Kendyll’s gaze moved behind her glasses to settle on me, where I stood behind the doctor’s shoulder. Helplessness framed her tight eyes and deepening frown, begging me to do something. I pursed my lips in response, pondering what my first move would be.

Meanwhile, the middle-aged doctor looked over his shoulder, trying but failing to see me. He jotted down a note on his yellow pad.

Delusions persist after six months of increased medication and therapy

His pad shifted as he wrote, exposing medical documents and notes beneath it. I spotted Kendyll’s name, as well as glimpses of different words and phrases.

Frequent nightmares

Touch aversion

Severe psychosis—auditory and visual hallucinations

Factitious disorder—consistently fabricates and feeds into non-existent childhood trauma

“Damn,” I mused, glancing at her. “They think you’re bonkers.”

Her cheeks grew red, and she glanced nervously at Dr. Roberts.

Understanding her nerves, I quelled, “Don’t worry. The fucker can’t hear me. Yet.”

I was still tucked in the shadows, only visible to her due to her ability to peer into the world I dwelled within. But it wouldn’t be much longer until I fully emerged.

“Is what you see in the room with us right now?” the physician asked.

I nodded at Kendyll, encouraging her to answer honestly.

She pressed her lips together at first but eventually responded quietly, “Yes.”

“I see. Where is it?”

“Standing behind you.”

With a mischievous snicker, I leaned down and blew a cold breath on the back of his neck. He tensed, and I sensed his heartbeat skip in alarm. A fine sheen of unsettled sweat dotted the back of his neck near his shirtline, but he managed to keep himself from turning to look this way. Not that it would’ve mattered. Already, I felt the unease growing in his body, which slowly prickled power within mine.

The doctor coughed and shifted slightly in his chair, rolling his shoulders in what was probably an effort to dispel the remaining tingles on the back of his neck. “Can you describe what you see?” He poised his pen over his paper, ready to write the details.

“Go ahead,” I told her.

Kendyll studied me while I studied the professional’s desk and his office. “He … He’s tall. Short black hair, sharp eyes that are gold with a vertical black pupil. A black hoop through the bottom of his nose and tattoos on his arms. Dark and ribbed horns.”

Dr. Roberts paused his jotting down of my features. “Horns?”

“Yes,” she answered.

I grinned, flashing my sharp canines as I bent closer to the physician’s desk. “Go on. Tell him what I am, Ghost.”

Her fists clenched tightly, and she begrudgingly whispered, “He’s a demon.”

I blew on a stack of papers near Dr. Roberts’s hand. The pages fluttered, scattering slightly from where they’d been. Paul stared at the papers and glanced ever so slightly over his shoulder.

“Ha. Silly drafts.” He feigned nonchalance as he straightened the sheets, but he couldn’t hide his growing apprehension from me. The tips of my fingers warmed with a slight buzz of energy. The more frightened he became, the more that feeling swept through me.