“We can stop by an animal shelter on the way,” Ethan said.
“You’re not planning on hurting it, are you?” I asked with suspicion and worry.
Edwards, who had so far only been polite and jovial, now looked at me in annoyance, letting out a frustrated sigh. “If you insist on knowing, then I shall tell you. I need the animal because what I fundamentally endeavour to do by retrieving your father is to fool the dimension into believing that he is still there. In order to do that, I will require a life force to take his place. Now, isn’t it easier that I use an animal for this, rather than stranding another human in hell?”
“I can’t send a dog or a cat to hell,” I said, the very idea weighing on my conscience.
“Do you want your father back or not?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Would a chicken work?” Ethan interjected. “I know a small farm along the way.”
“A chicken should be fine,” Edwards replied.
I was about to argue further, but Edwards was right. I wanted my dad back. I didn’t want to send a poor chicken to hell, but it was a necessary evil. I settled in, hoping that whatever this night had in store, I’d get my father back by the end of it.
9.
The chicken clucked inside its cage as we drove to Sycamore Strand. I chewed my lip, guilt threatening to drown me over one chicken. Ethan compelled the owner of the farm to give it to him. In the grand scheme of things, it was a small crime. Chickens faced worse fates in factory farms, right?
Ethan parked as close to the cave as he could, and then we got out, assisting Edwards with the various bits and pieces he insisted were required for his journey, including the caged chicken. I said a silent apology to the little bird as I used the flashlight on my phone to light our way, though it seemed I was the only one who needed it. Both Ethan and Edwards appeared to have perfect night vision. I, on the other hand, was tripping over stones and getting my feet tangled in clumps of seaweed at every turn. The salty sea air filled my nose. The waves were high, and the sounds of them reminded me of the night of the ritual that brought Theodore back.
The night my dad was sacrificed.
A chill crawled down my spine like spiders’ legs.
Inside the cave, I placed my phone down on the ground, propping it up against a rock to light the space. Edwards pulled off the small satchel bag he’d been carrying and put it carefully on the bed of the cave. Then he zipped open his suitcase and, quite outrageously, began undressing right there in front of us.
I shot Ethan a questioning glance, but he appeared just as confused as I was.
“Why are you taking off your clothes?” I queried, seeing as Ethan had no intention of asking him.
“Clothing is unnecessary for where I’m going. The key is for me to fit in and go unnoticed. If I were to show up in human attire, I’d be spotted immediately.”
I kept my eyes trained on the upper half of his body, not feeling the need to see the private parts of a seventy-year-old professor, half-demon or not.
Next, he pulled out a bottle of Lucozade, of all things, unscrewed the cap, and downed it in one go.
“The sugars help to speed up my change,” Edwards explained.
“Your change?”
“Into my demon form.”
“Oh,” I breathed, glancing at Ethan who seemed just as fascinated as I was by Edwards’s behaviour. I turned back to the half-demon and saw that his face had started to transform, elongating and reshaping itself before my very eyes. I gasped as I stared at him, transfixed.
Extra skin covered his grey hair and the back of his skull jutted out into a horn. His chin lengthened to a sharp point, his brown eyes turned orange, and his hands curled into claws. His skin was no longer the pale, pinkish hue of a human, but a speckled royal blue, contrasting starkly with his orange eyes. Instinctively, I stepped back, clutching onto Ethan’s arm. Better the devil you know and all that.
When his transformation was complete, Edwards let out a deep sigh. “Ah, it feels good to be in new skin. This body is younger than my human one. The only problem is that it ages the longer I stay in it. That’s why I keep from changing as