Page 7 of Whispers From The Dark

It’s not what I would have expected. Then again, I tend to only interact with people on the fringes of society. Assholes with far too much confidence and not enough sense come to my bar, often ruining the day of my other patrons—the desperate and the melancholy. They are all deprived in one way or another. Many of them had childhoods like hers.

But she’s defied the odds.

Petra frowns, but recovers quickly.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, wondering if I can wager my way into her conscience. I won’t rest until I have a glimpse into this impossibly optimistic woman’s mind.

“Nothing,” she chirps.

“Liar,” I say, clasping my hand around her wrist. But I am nearly undone by the realization that she bears the mark of another demon on her soul.

Satanus has claimed her. For this bright and sunny woman to spike curiosity in my brother, I have to wonder what he knows that I don’t. Why does he think her capable of an act of wrath worthy of his attention?

And why, for the first time in a millennium, do I feel the urge to defy my brother and take that which he has already claimed?

I let my eyes flash black as I squeeze. Her breaths go shallow and her mouth drops open as she understands exactly what I am. When I don’t let go, she grows agitated.

“You won’t hurt me—not here,” she says.

“Are you so sure?”

“What do you want?” she whispers, growing agitated.

“I want to make a deal.”

3

PETRA

“Are you threatening me?”

“Would you like that?” the demon asks.

I narrow my eyes, using my free hand to reach for the soda gun beneath the bar. One of the buttons squirts holy water, but demons haven’t caused commotion in the bar since I’ve worked here so I’ve never had to use it. Does holy water go stale? Does the blessing wear off?

“I don’t know what you mean.” I give him a sunny smile. “Please let me go.”

Suddenly, a strange feeling oozes over the crown of my head and drips down. It’s like the sweet and languid smoke of the hookah bar down the road that Gabi used to frequent. My eyes grow heavy, and my body relaxes.

“You’re doing something to me, aren’t you?” I ask, grip on the soda gun loosening.

“That holy water is ancient. All it will do is annoy me. Have you ever annoyed a demon before?”

“I suppose I don’t know.”

“Oh, you would know,” he says, rubbing a thumb over my wrist. He licks his lip, and my eyes are drawn to the motion. It’s seductive and quite unfair. But it’s probably just the fact he’s a demon. He’s made himself wildly handsome, sex personified. His lips are plush and soft, yet his cheekbones could cut glass. He looks otherworldly, and I suppose he is.

“Who did this to you?”

My bones are coated with worry and something like anticipation. How does he know it wasn’t an accident?

“If it was accidental, you would have gone to the hospital for it,” he says, answering a question I hadn’t voiced aloud. “But you chose my bar instead, didn’t you?”

My body reacts faster than my mind when I realize what he said. Wrenching my hand away, I picture the black eyes I saw in the mirror’s reflection all those years ago at The Crossroads.

Now, I know how the bar got its name.

“That was you?” I’m breathless.