Page 77 of Demon Demands

Two smaller moths rested on my shoulder blades while a larger third moth stretched across the middle of my back. Similar to a witch's familiar, I could call upon my moths to assist me, but I’d never set them free.

My parents had been killed the day after my father had given them to me, and he’d had no time to teach me or explain much about them.

Every trip that I’d made back to the Underworld, I’d found myself rifling through my family’s home in search of anything that could help me understand them.

On my last visit, two days ago, I’d stumbled over an old journal sitting atop my dad’s desk, one that hadn’t been there on previous visits. One that also wasn’t in his handwriting.

With everything going on in Hell, I wouldn’t jump to conclusions… But there were only so many people who had access to the protective wards around the valley that my family’s home sat in.

Sam had assured me when he had the barrier put up that access had been given to me, him, and Lucifer. No one else.

I’d seen the script and signatures of the First and Second Devils, so I knew they hadn’t written the entries. The letter patterns were too feminine to be theirs, scrawling across the paper in delicate arches and swirls.

“You’re going to what?” Vaughn’s outraged voice snapped me from my thoughts. He stared at our mate in disbelief as she held up a tiny vile of milky white liquid.

“Take this potion,” Sloane answered, sounding like she’d repeated herself several times already.

I studied the continents with keen eyes, but I’d missed everything that had been said, so I had no clue what it was.

“What’s it going to do to you?” I inquired, noticing my Kitten didn’t look the least bit worried.

“Knock her ass out for starters.” Dolyn chuckled. “But it should help her see into—”

“Nope,” York stated by way of interruption. “She’s not taking that.”

Sloane rolled her eyes, red irises shining from the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window. “Yes, I am.”

“No way,” York argued, shaking his head. “You don’t know—”

“Already did.” Sloane cut in, shrugging her shoulders as she placed the empty vile on the counter.

“It tastes like shit, though. Dolyn?” she drawled lazily, “Doyou fink could tass errr…”

“Holy shit,” Briggs startled, lunging forward as Sloane collapsed, her legs twisting as they gave out.

“You assholes weren’t going to catch her?” he shouted at us.

“You didn’t give us a chance, mate,” York replied quietly, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched her chest rise and fall rapidly. “Is she supposed to be breathing like that?”

Dolyn grimaced. “Yeah. The potion is meant to kick her sight into full gear. She should have immediately been pulled into a vision, and from there… theoretically, she should be able to narrow down her abilities to see exactly what she’s seeking.”

“That sounded like a lot of maybes,” Novak retorted, the gold of his eyes spiraling with his ire as he took a deep breath to calm himself.

Palmer kneeled, observing Sloane while Briggs held her in his lap. Her eyelids bounced as her eyes shifted from left to right too quickly to track, and her breathing evened out only to speed up once more.

“How long will she be out for?”

Appearing genuinely perplexed, Dolyn frowned. “I have no idea.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Briggs growled.

Hyde sighed as she massaged her temples. “Would you guys chill out? They do this shit all the time. Dolyn makes it, Lo takes it.” She shrugged. “Or she tests it out. Nothing bad has ever happened.”

Jack cackled suddenly, seemingly unfazed by our situation. “Except that one time that he turned her yellow. She’s hated the color ever since.” His ebony eyes surveyed me and the guys. “But Hyde’s right. Even that wasn’t too bad.”

Hyde smothered her giggles with a hand over her mouth. “Yeah, and what about that one time they were playing with grenades.”

Grim nodded his head, smiling at the little succubus. “What about when…”