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She doesn’t say anything and, honestly, I don’t know if she believes me.
Alana
IwatchDomashe paces around the dingy motel room, trying to come up with a plan to protect me from the demon that's after me. I haven't told anyone yet, but I've been having nightmares for weeks now about a creature with fiery eyes and razor-sharp claws, and I'm starting to think that it might have something to do with this.
I just thought I was being paranoid, but this is probably a good time to mention it. “I’ve been having these nightmares,” I say. “I thought I was just nervous about the tour, but I think they might be related to what’s going on with Trine.”
Dom stands in front of me. “I need you to focus, Al. Do you remember anything else about these dreams you’ve been having?”
I take a deep breath, trying to recall the details of my nightmares. “Just the demon. It’s always there, watching me. Sometimes it’s chasing me, sometimes it’s just staring at me with those fiery eyes. And it feels so real, like it’s actually there with me. But like I said, I thought it was just anxiety. The tour is such a big deal and I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around it. I thought I was sabotaging myself here.”
Dom nods, taking in my words. “We need to be careful then. This demon seems to be targeting you, and we can’t let it get to you.”
“There’s no ‘seems’ here,” Trine says. “The demon actually said she’s next.”
“I know,” I say, feeling a sense of dread settle in my stomach. “But what are we going to do? I don’t know anything about demons or rituals.”
Dom’s expression softens as he takes my hand. “You don’t have to worry about that. We’ll handle it. You just need to trust me.”
I bite my tongue until the taste of copper fills my mouth.
I nod, feeling a knot forming in my throat.
“And what happens if it doesn’t work?” Trine asks. She sounds genuinely scared. I’m just glad she’s saying what we both think.
Dom’s gaze meets mine, his eyes hardening. “It will work,” he says firmly. “We’ll make sure of it.”
I take a deep breath, trying to push my fears aside. I have to trust Dom, even if I don’t fully understand what’s going on.
“Okay,” I say, nodding. “I trust you.”
Dom gives me a small smile before turning to Trine and Misha. “We need to start the ritual. Trine, are you ready?”
Trine takes a deep breath, her eyes focused. “Yes,” she says, her voice steady.
Dom starts to gather the materials he needs, explaining each step of the process as he goes. I try to follow along, but it’s all so foreign to me. Dom reaches for a leather pouch inside his backpack, the one tucked away somewhere in the depths of it. He pulls out the knife he used to confront the creature, then places the pouch gingerly on the bed that Trine and Misha are sitting on.
He takes a deep breath as he opens the leather pouch, then pulls out the various herbs and spices stored within, a mysterious brew of earthy aromas that fill my nostrils as he explains each ingredient’s role. He sprinkles them with an almost reverent gesture into a bowl. It’s not an incense bowl, it’s more like a tumbler for toothbrushes we found in the cupboard under the sink. He carefully mixes together until it is just right. He ignites a quartz crystal candle and lets it burn, watching closely as its light shimmers off the walls like stars.
Trine and Misha sit with their eyes closed, their hands clasped tightly together as Dom begins the ritual. He starts to chant softly in a language I don't understand, his voice low and steady. The room feels charged with energy, and I feel a shiver run down my spine.
I hear footsteps outside and ignore them.
Instead, I watch one of my closest friends as this ritual keeps happening to her. Trine lets out a low moan, and her body begins to tremble. Misha holds onto her tightly, whispering soothing words in her ear. Dom's chanting becomes more urgent, and I can see him pouring some of the liquid from the bowl into a small glass–this one, he definitely got out of his bag.
“I know this is gross,” he says quietly. “But I need you to drink it.”
Trine meets his gaze and nods. “Yes,” she replies, taking the glass off him.
I watch her throat work as she swallows hard for a second then drinks the concoction down in one go. I feel a wave of nausea wash over me as I watch her swallow the thick, brown liquid, but she seems to tolerate it well. I have to put my hand on my mouth to stop myself from throwing up and Trine gags for a second.
I think she’s about to be sick on the bed, but Dom continues to chant, and I watch as Trine's eyes roll back in her head.
Her body starts to convulse, and I can see the veins in her neck bulge as she arches her back. Misha holds onto her tightly, concern written all over his face.
Dom's voice rises in pitch, and I can see sweat starting to bead on his forehead.
I hate seeing Trine like this. She looks so sick, so helpless. I want to make sure she’s okay, but I keep watching, sitting helplessly, waiting for something to happen.
