my ribs as my legs tingled with the desire to flee.
The camera’s flash went out; it audibly burst with the sound of shattering glass. In the candles’ flickering orange glow, the smoke began to take shape. It became tall, humanoid...
It opened its eyes, and they were gold.
I did love making a dramatic entrance.
I’d known it was coming. Even as I left Kent that late night, flipping him off as I vanished into the ether, it was with the knowledge that I’d likely be dragged back in front of a summoner sooner rather than later. I couldn’t really leave Abelaum yet anyway, now could I? Someone out there had the grimoire, and that meant some little mortal’s fingers would be itching to try their hand at the magic contained within. I needed the damn book, I needed my mark in it destroyed. I wasn’t the only demon whose name was within it, but with my luck, I’d be the one chosen.
Lucky me.
They’d called me Killer as a warning, but somehow that just made me more appealing, didn’t it? Curious mortal minds couldn’t resist the danger.
I sent out smoke ahead of me. I brought the wind, I encouraged the rain, I filled the space with the scent of burning. Whoever dared summon me would know they were in over their heads. With luck, they’d make a mistake, they’d flee, they’d step outside their protective circle and when they did — oh, when they did, I’d make them scream. Most mortals weren’t so lucky to possess a protective amulet, like Kent had. It was the only reason I hadn’t killed him in all the years he’d held me captive, and his father before him, and his grandfather before that.
The room came into focus — a high steepled ceiling and ancient boards. The smell of dust and mold, flesh and blood...mint and sage? My gaze pierced through the dark, through the smoke, toward the punitive figure standing there, wide brown eyes staring at me through her glasses.
No...no fucking way…
She was scrambling, but as I came into being, she raised something above her head. In a fury I cleared the smoke away, dissipating it with a single breath but letting it linger around my feet — for effect, of course. There stood Raelynn Lawson, holding up a stick as if it were a baseball bat.
“Get back!” she screamed, her voice trembling with fear but vicious nonetheless. “Get – away – from me!” She punctuated every word with a swing of the stick, each swing coming closer.
Of all the people that could have summoned me, of all the goddamned people in this goddamned town, it had to be her.
I began to laugh at the absurdity of it all. My laughter was dark and loud, and it filled the room like a roll of thunder. She remained steadfast, stick at the ready, facing me down instead of running for her life. But as my laughter quieted, her face twitched and recognition gleamed in her eyes.
“What the…” She lowered the stick, fumbling for her phone. She flicked on her flashlight and shone it in my face, and I was quick to smooth out my disguise. Golden eyes became green, my claws retracted. The urge to disguise myself was an automatic reaction to having a human look at me, but in this case at least, I also couldn’t have her completely losing her mind and fleeing.
I didn’t know how, but she had the grimoire.
And she was going to hand it over, one way or another.
“Leon?” She gasped, utter disbelief in her voice. I stopped laughing, letting the silence surround us. I dampened the sound just a bit too, so the quiet was smothering, so that it pressed down around her. I wanted her to realize this was a mistake. I wanted her to feel afraid. Just afraid enough to cooperate, not to flee.
Or so I hoped.
I could smell the adrenaline as it rushed through her, savory in its aroma of blood, sweat, and salt. Instead of backing down, she raised the stick again in one hand and kept holding up her phone with the other. What did she think she was doing?
“What the hell?” she yelled. “Is this your idea of a prank, asshole?”
A prank... she thought this was a prank. I chuckled, entirely unamused. “Oh, this would be a good prank, wouldn’t it?” I looked around, taking in the familiar pews, the altar behind me, the stench of old burned herbs and below — far below — the