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“Here you are, partner.” He set down my mocha and sat across from me. “You okay? You seem more spacey than usual.”
“Just tired. After this paper, I’ll be able to sleep better.” I gave him a small smile with my half truth.
He was a fuckboy, but he was also attentive. A dangerous combo for any single woman who encountered him.
“As long as that brain of yours doesn’t melt before our presentation next Thursday. I’ll email you my portion tonight.” He took a long sip of his iced coffee then smiled around his straw when I didn’t break my stare. “What?”
“Do you believe in demons?”
His brow crinkled. I didn’t know why I was asking. I obviously knew the answer. Maybe I needed confirmation from someone else that I hadn’t slipped through a glitch in the matrix or been the center of a mean joke gone too far.
“I think we all have our own battles to wage.” He delivered his answer like I looked as unstable as I felt. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I don’t mean like mental health, and yes, I’m fine in that department. I take my meds every day along with my contraceptive.” I tossed my hair from one side to the other. “What I meant was, do you think there are real physical demons? Like biblical demonic entities that can manifest in solid form on this plane?”
“Was there aBuffymarathon on or something last night?” His uncomfortable laugh brought me back to my senses. Of course he would think I was losing it; I was sounding deranged.
“No.Charmed. The old version,” I lied. “It just got me thinking, with all the old texts and journals we catalog, if what some of these accounts say isn’t a little true. These exorcisms have to have some sort of validity to them, right?”
“Science, poor social status, and a hundred other explanations cover why people believed in witches and possessions back then. Schizophrenia wasn’t declared a mental illness until 1887, and it has taken almost ninety years to get from its initial discovery to what we know of it now. That alone explains thousands of so-called possessions.”
I knew he was right, but I also knew he was wrong. And there was no way I could prove it to him either way.
“Alyssa Milano is so hot though. Solid binge pick.” He tapped my hand on the side of my coffee cup and then leaned back in his chair, checking his phone.
I let the conversation die with that admission. Whatever Vassago and I were tangled up in was going to have to continue to be my own dark secret.
Chapter4
Vassago
The seams of the book’s holy pages were stained with the blood of both the damned and the innocent. Seeing Celeste’s delicate fingertips tenderly examine its contents filled me with rage and longing. What about the object garnered her admiration more than the demon she’d summoned with it?
The book had brought me to her, but that was all it was good for. If it weren’t spelled in protection, I would have destroyed it ages ago.
After Celeste tucked the priest’s diary away, she chatted with a human man whom she spent too much time with. Any time with any being other than me was a waste, but this one, in particular, looked at her meaningfully when she wasn’t paying attention. He knew what to order for her when they dined together and always kept a chair open for her during their classes. He could have gotten away with being an attentive friend if it weren’t for the hours he spent picturing her face on the women he fucked or while he pleasured himself.
Outside of the library that evening, Celeste walked to the parking lot and got into her car. She was one of the last humans left on campus. Three vehicles were parked in the lot, and one of them caught my eye: a Ducati Streetfighter with a custom license plate that readMONEY.
The last time I’d owned anything made by that automotive engineer, it had been one of the first Scramblers in blue. This brand-new Streetfighter was a blazon red with two thin black lines running from tip to tail.
It had to be mine.
I could have bought one, but it wouldn’t have been the same. Whoever owned this bike had the one other thing on this plane that I desired, and who would I be if I didn’t act on my nature?
With a wave of my hand, the bike roared to life between my legs and practically purred with a flick of my wrist on the gas. I kicked off and followed Celeste back to her townhouse, which was several miles away. She had a headstart, but with the New York City traffic—and a lot of illegal lane splitting—I caught up to her quickly.
Being Celeste’s unseen shadow meant that I could be near herwhile she was studying or working, and in my spare time, I’d brushed up on pop culture, motor vehicles, and music. The only place I couldn’t follow her into was her home. To my frustration, the friend who dabbled in sex-store witchcraft also liked to gift her friends with protective knickknacks. Though she didn’t study true magic or practice regularly, her intent for the objects was present. So the angelite crystal hidden in a red charm bag hanging above Celeste’s door was strong enough to keep me out without Celeste’s explicit desire for me to enter.
I’d learned many things about my gift since she’d released me. Celeste drank too much coffee, slept far too little, and didn’t care for anyone’s opinions on her life or vices. She was heavily preoccupied with her higher education and the position in the program she had wished for. Her dream was to eventually discover things lost to time. Her thirst for knowledge rivaled that of the men I’d known through the years, scholars who’d wasted away in front of their books, telescopes, and radioactive substances.
I owed her the wildest dreams she had. I would be the pathway to her ultimate goal and the life she wanted to create for herself. It was more than any of the books in her favorite library could give her. Though, in my humble opinion, I was the most interesting thing she could have discovered while flipping through the books of priests and monks.
In the short hours that I allowed her to exist outside of my orbit, I was with my brother, who was as equally off the deep end as I was.
Seere, the Prince of Wrath, had his own engrossment, a human woman by the name of Sloane. The first night I was free, I stepped through the void to his doorstep in Malibu and he’d met me with open arms and an ease that felt like no time had passed.
Being trapped for half a century came with the stress of having to adjust to the current state of the world. While fifty years is only a drop in the bucket when living for an eternity, a lot can happen in the rapidly growing human world. Wars had come and gone. Things had been invented and reinvented, and television shows that had been popular before were now being revitalized as live-action movies with younger faces.
