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I mean, I’d literally just had a brain scan. There hadn’t been any abnormalities. There were no growths pressing on parts of my brain that could just… imagine something like that.
He’d had wings, for God’s sake.
Wings.
Actual, wings.
But not quite, you know, bird-like.
Actually, not bird-like at all.
They were more, I don’t know, bat-like.
They were smooth to the point of freakishly soft.
I knew.
One had reached out to touch me when I’d hit my knee.
Okay. Maybe not a brain tumor, but possibly a psychotic break? My doctor told me all the time that a lack of proper sleepcould do terrible things to the mind and body. But I thought he meant, like, a little anxiety or irritability, maybe some brain fogs or body aches, not freaking hallucinating about a man who was part… bat.
No.
Not bat.
It wasn’tjustthe wings.
It was the horns in his forehead, the talons that used to be his fingers.
And his tongue.
Oh, God. His tongue. It had felt weird. Not because he was skilled with it—though, he undeniably was—but because it wasn’t a normal tongue.
It was forked.
“Oh, Jesus. Okay. Alright,” I mumbled to myself as my hands rubbed the sides of my arms, trying to, I don’t know, ground myself.
I hadn’t imagined it, damn it.
I hadn’t.
I’d felt that tongue. On my tongue. On my nipple. On my clit. I’dfeltit. You didn’tfeela hallucination.
But if it wasn’t a hallucination and some sort of mental break, what was the explanation?
He wasn’t human.
I mean, that was insane, but what other conclusion could I come to?
“Get a grip, Charlie,” I told my reflection, staring into my familiar eyes.
Intelligent eyes, my father would call them.
I’d always prided myself on my brain, on my rationality.
I didn’t evenbelievein things that weren’t human. There was no such thing as the supernatural. As ghosts or witches or gods or, well, demons.
Because that had to have been what I’d seen, right? A demon? It was the only thing that seemed to fit the image of what I’d seen.
