Page 9 of The Devil and His Ghost

Maybe she really was in here for a valid reason. Clearly, she’d made up some moronic conversation between us in that noggin of hers.

She hurried to clarify, “You pinky promised to come back and take me with you. I-I thought you were here to take me away from this place. Don’t you remember?”

Whoops. Had I said something like that?

“That was a decade ago!” I hurried to argue with a raking of my hand between my horns. “Why would I remember that?”

What I did remember was that this Ghost Speaker had no boundaries and loved invading mine. That fact clearly hadn’t changed, because she reached out to grasp my long-sleeved shirt, fisting it so hard, the collar opened wider around my shoulder.

“Can you help me anyway? Please? I don’t—they—I’m not sick. You know I have this ability, but they all think I’m crazy, seeing and talking to things that aren’t there.”

My eyes narrowed on the teenager who practically pleaded at me with her own. Her fist trembled slightly against my arm, and desperation swam in her green gaze. It wasn’t that hunger to get out of here that had me hesitating. It was the thought of how much fun this could be.

I often meandered through various mental hospitals, messing with both patients and staff. The location and stereotypes of insane asylums created the perfect playground for a Mischief demon to wreak havoc—startling patients into hysterics that then flustered staff, spooking the night shift teams by pushing on an empty wheelchair, wailing at the end of a dark, uninhabited corridor. The place practically acted as a 24/7 gas station for my power tank.

And I wasn’t the only one who thought that. Even now, I could feel the mark of another demon within the building. They weren’t here right now, but they came often enough to stain the air with their demonic essence. This place clearly had frequent customers from Hell.

As I thought about how I’d get this girl out and all the madness I could cause in the process, I found myself smirking and giving in to the idea. Plus, I’d consider it an act of charity for the weirdo. It was true she didn’t actually need to be here. She was gifted with the Devil’s Eye, and no amount of medication or help from doctors would change that.

“Fine,” I answered.

Her face instantly brightened. She held out her hand.

I looked at it while my lip curled in disgusted confusion. “What’s that for?”

“Don’t I need to hold your hand so we can poof out of here? You know, the same way you suddenly appeared and disappeared from my closet?”

“Listen here, Ghost,” I told her. “You asked for my help getting out of here. So I’ll do that, but it will be my way. So no. We’re not ‘poofing’ out. We’re going to have some fun first.”

“Fun?” she asked hesitantly, dropping her hand back by her side. Her other still clung to my sleeve.

I looked down and flicked her knuckles like one might flick off a pesky bug.

“Ow!” she hissed, yanking her hand back.

I smiled triumphantly as she rubbed her red knuckles. Just then, the sexy nurse appeared in the doorway with her friendly grin.

“Kendyll? The doctor is ready if you’ll follow me.”

Kendyll stiffened and ever so lightly met my eyes. She pushed her glasses up and begrudgingly followed the nurse. I trailed alongside her with an excited grin. I knew Kendyll was practically screaming inside, wanting to know what my plan was. But I didn’t really do plans. I had ideas, and I acted on different ones in the spur of the moment. It made it more fun that way.

And I was about to have a lot of fucking fun.

Chapter 6

Xander

(7 Years Ago)

A LONG STRETCH OF VARIOUS rooms lined the hallway I walked down with the nurse and Kendyll in front of me. The doors had different doctors listed on them. We stopped at one, which read, “Paul Roberts MD.” As if accustomed to this routine, the nurse opened the door, Kendyll sat in the plush brown chair in front of a large desk, and the older gentleman behind it folded his hands atop a notebook with a pen resting in his fingers. The nurse shut the door, descending the doctor and his patient into privacy.

“Good afternoon, Kendyll,” Dr. Paul Roberts greeted.

Kendyll stared at her lap.

“How are you feeling today?”

Kendyll swallowed hard and finally looked up. “I’m not making it up.”