Janie returned to her one-bedroom apartment in the multi-family house in Brighton. She used to love living here alone, having her own space where she could traipse around in mismatched comfortable outfits and binge watch TV while eating whatever she wanted. Now it didn’t have the same thrill as when she’d first moved here. She often woke up in a cold sweat, staring around her bedroom that now had a permanent nightlight, to make sure nobody was there. Although she had a new security system installed, it didn’t stand a chance against the supernatural. But the protection spells should; that was one of the benefits of being friends with a witch and shifters.
She went through her stretching exercises to help take some of the strain out of her legs. A year before the demons invaded, she’d been injured in the bombings at the Boston Marathon, which left her with shrapnel in her leg and a limp. The night the demons had come to Boston had also been the same unfortunate night that Janie wanted to go out dancing—to celebrate being able to do so after all those months of physical therapy. The irony of that timing could make Big Ben malfunction.
Follow your routine.That’s how she’d been learning to cope after the attacks. She focused on ways to decompress rather than add stress.
She took a long, hot bath, then had a glass of white wine before bed. When she went to bed, she put on a30 Rockrerun and the sleep timer. After a couple of episodes, she relaxed enough to close her eyes.
Red eyes staredat her with malice. Horns curled out of its head. It taunted her, telling her what it planned to do.
She was restrained to the wall in a cave. The dank air around her was hot and oppressive, like being trapped in a tomb. The demon was coming closer. It said she was marked and planned to breed with her. She struggled against her restraints but had nowhere to go. It was about to touch her. It reached for her with its sharp claws. She braced herself for its repulsive touch.
Janie bolted upright with a gasp,blinking her eyes wide open. Her heart battered in her chest at an erratic rate, and her skin was covered in sweat. She searched her surroundings. She recognized her bedroom by the sunlight drifting through the white curtains. It wasn’t some dark realm. She wasn’t restrained in a cave by an incubus.
It was just a nightmare. Another one.
A cold tremor rocked her body. She hunched her shoulders and pulled her weighted blanket up to her neck, like it was a coat of armor. After a few minutes of focused breathing, she stopped panting. Then she climbed out of bed and treaded barefoot over her hardwood floors into the kitchen. She filled a glass of ice-cold water. When she drank, her hand trembled.
After she set the glass down, she gripped the corner of the counter and heaved three deep breaths. Then she rolled her shoulders back. Enough.
I’m not going to let them haunt me for the rest of my life. They’re gone.
The gargoyle shifters and Larissa had ensured that. After they’d rescued Janie from the demon’s realm, they brought her back through the portal and sealed it. She clucked her tongue.Another freakin’ realm where demons crawled—something she wouldn’t have deemed possible until slapped by vivid reality.
She let out a humorless laugh. She hadn’t known that demons or gargoyles shifters were real either until about five months ago.
She started an upbeat playlist on her phone while she made coffee to try to convince herself that everything was okay.
While the coffee brewed, she scrolled through social media and listened to Depeche Mode—one of her favorite bands. After having a cup of coffee, it was a more decent time to text Larissa.
She typed:Good morning, sunshine. No more visions, I hope?
Larissa replied:No. Hope I didn’t freak you out.
I had a nightmare, but that’s nothing new. This one was tough, though. It seemed too real.
I’m coming over.
You don’t have to do that.
I’ll be there soon.
Janie rolled her neck from side to side and exhaled. She dressed in buttery-soft, black-and-white leggings with sugar skulls and flowers printed on them and paired them with a rose-colored, loosely fitted tunic. Warm and comfortable, yet cute. She brushed her blonde hair and piled it into a messy bun on the top of her head.
Less than twenty minutes later, a knock rapped on her door. It couldn’t be Larissa already, could it? A peek through the peephole confirmed that it was. Her friend stood there bundled in a charcoal wool coat and winter hat.
She opened the door. “That was fast.”
Larissa grinned and stepped inside. “I had a ride—or should I say, flight.”
“Roman flew you over?”
“Yeah, you know—traffic.” Larissa recoiled. “No, thank you.”
Janie chewed her bottom lip and nodded, all too familiar with the odd experience of flying in a gargoyle’s arms. The last time had been a celebratory flight during Larissa and Roman’s bonding ceremony, which seemed like a shifter’s version of a wedding. Arto had held her tightly and cloaked them in magic during a flight over Boston with the other gargoyle shifters. Having him hold her in his arms as they flew over the city was eerily exhilarating.
She forced a bright smile. “I brewed a pot of coffee. I’ll get you a mug.”
After she filled an X-Files mug that read “The Truth is out There,” which Larissa often chose, she poured more coffee into her “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” mug. Janie joked that their preferences reflected their personalities.
