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I stood in the foyer of my old house, easily identified by the dark, wooden staircase, the strange paisley-print walls, and the layout, which looked exactly as it had when I was fifteen years old. “Papa?”
“Farryn!” The fear and pain in his voice lit a fire in my veins, and I ran up the staircase, finding him in the bathroom with his back to me, facing the tub.
“Papa?” Tears filled my eyes as I took him in. My father. The man I hadn’t seen since I was a teenager. The man I never thought I’d see again.
Was he here? Real?
I stepped inside the small bathroom and glanced down toward the tub to see legs submerged in the water. A terrifying sensation gripped the back of my neck, and when he stepped aside, I jumped back on seeing myself.
Drowned.
I let out a shuddered breath, panic expanding inside my chest on seeing my own lifeless face, and flinching, I looked away to find my father staring back at me, a look of pure agony clouding his gaze.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” he said, with tears in his voice. “I woke up from a dream … and my hands were wrapped around your throat.”
I lurched forward, throwing my arms around him. “It’s okay, Papa. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”
His arms held me back, and he shook with a sob. “I never wanted to hurt you, Farryn. Never.” The embrace grew tighter. Tighter.
Cold liquid drew my attention to the floor, where water pooled around my feet as it spilled out of the tub.
The door to the bathroom slammed shut, and I released my father on a gasp. Something held me from stepping away from him, and when I looked down, in place of what I thought were his arms was a long, black tentacle coiled around my waist.
My eyes shot to his, and an ominous red bled over into the once familiar hazel that I remembered. Alarms blared inside my head, and I pushed at his chest. In one hard thrust, he pushed me back against the wall, my spine crashing into the tiles. He pressed his lips to mine, and on a blasted exhale, I screamed into his mouth, pushing at his shoulders.
Something slithered into my mouth, the sensation stirring mayhem in my brain, and I broke into hysterics, trying to get him off me. He pulled away, and it was no longer my father’s face, but Jericho’s. Patch over his eye. Horns sticking out of his head. Skin black as night and the silvery tattoos glowing over his skin. A serpent’s tongue swept over his lips.
It wasn’t him, though. I knew it wasn’t, because his single eye was a blood red, and even in Jericho’s demonic form, his eye turned black.
A numbing cold blanketed my legs, and I looked down to see the water had risen to the level of my thighs.
I opened my mouth to let out a scream, but the imposter Jericho pinned me to the wall with a kiss. He guided my hand down to his erect cock, forcing my hand up and down his shaft.
“Relax, Tu’Nazhja.” He kissed me harder, and the slithery sensation from before hit the back of my mouth. Acids shot up my throat, as if I would puke, but he kept on with the assault.
His tongue retracted, and he pulled away from me, still clutching my hand as he forced me to touch him. “I’m going to make you my fucking slave. You are mine.” The voice didn’t hold the deep, rich tone of Jericho’s voice, but something diabolical and possessed.
The water bobbed at my neck. “Help! Help me! Help me!”
He kissed me again, and a wall of cold liquid rose up over my head.
The need for air punched at my chest.
Slam. Slam. Slam.
I screamed into his mouth, wriggling in his grasp.
This is how I’m going to die.
The little bit of air I’d managed waned. My lungs tightened to hold onto the last of the oxygen.
A sudden calm swept over me. My muscles relented their fight.
The wall of water crashed down all around me, and as I tumbled in a sloshy mess to the floor, I sucked in a breath, coughing and sputtering water.
Another round of acids climbed my throat, and black fluids spilled out of my mouth, splashing onto the wet tiles.
“Farryn!” Vespyr rushed through the doorway toward me, and I looked around to find no sign of my father, or the demon.
