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How long had I been in flight or fight mode? A week, at least. The longest week of my life. Even when I was with Lucien, our moments spent in bed together were only a brief respite from the storm of emotions constantly churning inside of myself.
When I was alone, it took every ounce of strength I had left in me to keep it all under control, to keep myself from falling apart. If we truly were leaving tonight, and the nightmare was in fact close to being over, what was going to happen after?
Sooner or later, I was going to have to come face to face with my emotions, and my grief.
I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.
As time passed, I became aware of the slightest of sounds, the bumps, the knocks, the little tugs at the very edges of my senses. At one point, I thought I felt someone touch the side of my head, only to turn and find no one there. I was sure I heard whispers coming from the corners of the room, saw shadows where there shouldn’t have been.
Were the demons toying with me? They were here. I was sure of it. I wondered if being near that crown and its powerful inhabitant had anything to do with this new sensitivity to demons. How I had made it three days in this room without having a mental break was beyond me.
I didn’t think I would be able to now.
The sudden spike of magic drew my attention instantly, making me stand bolt upright. It was a pinprick at first, small but instantly noticeable; an orb of light, pulsing, and strobing at about chest height in the center of the bedroom.
It struggled for a moment, but I could feel it drawing power into itself and growing. There was a moment then when I thought about running away, but something about this magic struck me as odd.
Then it felt familiar.
And suddenly I was faced with something I had never in a million years expected to see.
That growing ball of light was starting to take shape. Within moments, the light transformed to become a chest, a chest that grew arms, legs, and a head. My heartrate started to climb, I couldn’t believe my eyes!
“Max?” I asked, my eyes widening.
The figure was ethereal, and translucent—ghostlike—but it was him. He smiled at me, then held up one hand, as if to ask me to give him a second. In another hand he held my aunt Persephone’s amulet, and when he touched it, the symbols on the amulet twisted and turned, like there were little gears inside it.
Max’s shimmering form slowly stabilized. Though he never became solid, he was present enough that I could hear him breathe a sigh of relief. I took a step toward him, but then I stopped. What if this is a trick? Why aren’t the demons screaming?
I swallowed hard. “Max,” I whispered. “Is that you?”
“Bee!” he whispered, “Can you hear me?”
“I… I can. What are you doing?”
“Reaching out to you!”
“But how… how are you here?”
“I’m not, I’m projecting.”
I shook my head. “I’m in the Diaboli house. How could you be projecting in here? There’re demons around!”
“I know there are. I’ve been trying to do this for a few days, but there have always been too many of them for me to get through. There’s only a few of them around right now, and they aren’t bothering me.”
“Max…” I paused, shaking my head. “What’s my name?”
“Your name?”
“My name.”
“It’s… Bee.”
“No. My full name.”
He frowned. “I haven’t seen you in days, and you want me to tell you what your name is?”
“I have to know whether you’re real, or just a Diaboli trick.”
