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My heart hammered in my chest. Other Weres had talked about not being able to meet Mr. Dawson’s or Donovan’s gazes, but I’d never experienced that. Not until now.
What was I going to do?
I could try to fight it, but if I couldn’t even meet its gaze, I was screwed. And I was alone.
I rested my forehead on the damp, sticky table. Think, Tessa. Think.
A wave of reassurance came through the bond, and I sat back up. It was faint, but it was there.
I wasn’t alone. I had help.
I didn’t know what he’d done to get through to me and I didn’t care. I grabbed Dastien’s power, pulling as much as I could and hoping I
didn’t damage the barely-there rope.
A surge of Dastien’s power hit me, like I’d just downed a million Diet Cokes, and with it came a buttload of confidence.
I twisted in my seat, finally able to meet the little boy’s gaze.
His eyes were a normal brown—not red like other demons—but they were vacant. As sick as it was to think about since he—it—was in the shape of a little boy, looking into its eyes was almost like staring at the glass eyes of a taxidermied animal. They glinted a little too much in the light and were devoid of any emotion.
Then it grinned and a chill went down my spine.
Its mouth opened, lips thinning until they were just lines. The mouth was too big and too wide for its face. More like a jack-o’-lantern than anything human. As it smiled, the black hole of its mouth grew bigger as if it was going to suck me in.
Its laugh boomed in the small diner. Power pressed against my skin, making it feel like I’d been rolled in a layer of its black slime.
I started to slide out of the booth, but I hadn’t consciously moved.
I gripped the table, and my fingers squeaked as they slipped down the linoleum.
No. No. No. This was bad. This was really bad. It was drawing me toward it. The demon was done messing with me, and I had zero illusions that I could fight it and win.
My gut screamed that I couldn’t let it reach me. If I touched the demon, then it would have me. Forever. There was no coming back from that black pit. I knew what was on the other side. I’d seen it that day in the chapel in Santa Fe.
Inside the pit a giant demon clawed its way to the top. It looked like it was made of molten lava, scarring the rock with fire as it climbed. It spotted me and roared, moving faster.
“You’re mine.” The words sent terror through my soul. The same words he’d said in Santa Fe.
“No! Never!”
It was like gravity changed. I was sucked out of the booth, falling horizontally toward the boy—the demon.
My fingers were slowly slipping down the table, no matter how hard I tried to hold on. I needed a better grip.
In a split-second, my wolf rose to the surface, my fingers stretched and nails lengthened, turning into claws. I punched them through the table. It shook and cracks formed around my hands, spreading toward the edges.
This wouldn’t last. The table would break in half before long, and I’d be sucked toward the demon.
I needed a way out.
I hung parallel to the floor. The demon was still in the same spot, waiting for me. He was enjoying my panic. I was sure it could smell the sickly-sweet stench of it as well as I could.
He was waiting for me. He didn’t need to move. I was trapped.
As I hung there, floating in the air, trying not to be sucked into his evil vortex, I looked back. I stared him in the eyes. And I knew. All I had to do was look at him and I knew.
I’d felt his evil magic before.
