to unleash on her quiet, perfect life. “I’m good. Not even a scrape.”
“Then you haven’t looked in a mirror. There’s blood on your forehead.”
He touched his forehead, feeling the crusty trail of blood and examining the crimson flakes on his fingertips. Damn. He’d been cut? He hadn’t felt it or realized it until now because he’d gone straight up to the roof. Had he bled at the accident sight? Not good. Extremely not good if he’d left behind even a single drop of blood.
“Are you all right?”
He nodded absently, not wishing to let on to his alarm. This was something in which he must never involve Vika. It was too dark for her brightness. Thanks to the menace demon, he’d already rubbed a black mar along her life.
“I’m sorry, Vika. There’s nothing I can do to change what happened. And I can’t claim no fault because it was me doing the bad stuff, despite my body not being completely my own during that awful moment.”
“Yes, but it wasn’t your fault. It was the menace demon who made you do it.”
“It was, but that you believe me means—wow. Thank you. Just, thank you. That means a lot.”
“I’ve had a few hours to think it over while I was waiting for the car to be repaired.”
“You got it in already?”
“Yes, well, a little persuasive magic never hurts, does it?” She winked and then touched her lips, as if rethinking that impulsive act. “I stopped by because I needed to know you’re not hurt. How are you?”
“Shaken and stirred, but all in one piece.”
“Same with me. I think we both need to get some rest. Can you...sleep? If a cloudy day brings up your demons, I can’t imagine what night does to you.”
“I’ve trained myself to sleep with all the lights on. Not the most relaxing, and I’m lucky if I doze for three or four hours a night. Noctambulatory, remember? Spend a lot of time bent over my workshop table, crafting spells that never work. Lately, I can’t manage more than allotriophagy or scrying. Don’t give me that look. You know someone has to practice dark magic to balance the light. I bet I seem a real basket case to you.”
“You do.”
He rubbed a palm down his chest. “Demonic possession tends to leave me a bit worse for wear. But I clean up nicely. Will you come in and let me make you something to eat? I can do amazing things with fresh veggies. I promise you will be impressed.”
“No, I—”
“Right. It’s not safe with me,” he added, stepping back from her defensive posture. “Probably it would be better if you drove to your little round, white home and put your spice rack in order.”
“It is in order. Alphabetized, too.”
“Naturally. Have you eaten?”
“No.” She sighed. Resisting the offer, surely. Scanning the tiled walls and ceiling, she avoided eye contact with him. He knew his eyes went red when a demon was in control, and he hated she’d seen him like that. “The lights are very bright out here,” she offered.
“I’ve replaced them all with the highest wattage possible. The residents bitch about it, but I’ve put a shock spell on the fixtures so if they try to change them—zap!”
“That’s cruel.”
“It’s called survival.” He clutched the doorknob. “Give me a few minutes to try to win back your trust after our harrowing experience this afternoon? Dinner and then a sip of chartreuse?”
“I am a bit peckish. And I prefer crème de violette. But I won’t stay long. You feed me, then I’m out of here.”
“Excellent. I happen to have crème de violette. I should warn you before going inside. There’s no real way to prepare a person. What I’ve acquired since returning to this realm, what I surround myself with, is a means to survival.”
She gave him a hopeful gaze, and his heart thudded hard. Those huge emerald eyes. He wanted to kiss them and savor them. Apologize to them and be worthy of their admiration.
“So try me,” she said.
“All right. But take it all in before you say anything. Promise?”
She nodded, and when he opened the door, the red witch stepped over the threshold and gasped, clutching her throat, as her eyes veered skyward.
Chapter 5
Head tilted back, Vika wandered into the huge loft apartment that mastered the sixth floor. Marveling, she took in all the busy wonders suspended above her.
“Prismatic light,” she whispered, her footsteps moving her slowly forward across the hardwood floor.
Everywhere hung chandeliers. Clear crystal chandeliers, colored and black crystals,