“Close your eyes and focus inward. Imagine the core of your being made up of all the things that make you who you are. Try not to get distracted by any one thing—think of it as a whole. I like to imagine a ball of light.”
I close my eyes and do as I’m told, instinctively focusing in on the spot beneath my sternum. Memories leap to the surface, some happy, others not. I try picturing everything in a swirling ball of light like Huxley suggested, but the image isn’t working for me.
“Sorry,” I say, frustrated I’m struggling with literally the very first thing he’s asked of me.
“Don’t worry, you’re doing great. It can take a few tries to get it right—remember this is only your first lesson. Keep trying,” he encourages.
“OK.” I take a deep breath in. Exhale. Focus.
Instead of the ball of light, I picture the lake the town is named after. When a memory tries to ripple across the top, I imagine it sinking beneath the waterline until the surface is smooth and glassy. It takes a couple of tries, then I’m able tohold the image in my mind’s eye. Once I’m sure it won’t break my concentration, I say, “Got it.”
“Well done.” Huxley’s tone is bright with surprise. “What are you picturing?”
“The lake.”
“Hmm, interesting.” Before I can askwhythat’s so interesting, he moves on. “Alright, now instead of letting all those thoughts and memories come to you, I want you to imagine putting yourself right in the very centre of it all.”
I picture myself walking above the lake until I’m right in the middle, then imagine slowly sinking beneath the surface. The water is welcoming, safe.
Something must change in my expression because Huxley asks, “How do you feel?”
“At peace.” Tears burn behind my closed eyelids as I realise just how long it’s been since I felt safety like this. Not since my adoptive parents died. Emotion swells within me, a broken sob escaping my lips as I desperately cling to this feeling. I never want to leave this place.
“You’re doing great, Jared. It’s normal to feel emotional the first time you connect with your magic. I should have warned you. I’m sorry.”
“This… this feeling is my magic?” I croak.
“Yes.”
“Is this how you feel all the time?” I ask, awed.
“It’s different for everyone.”
“What does yours feel like?”
“Seductive—appropriate given I’m a lust demon.”
My concentration fractures, and my eyelids snap open.
“A what?”
Huxley smirks. “A lust demon. This sex appeal goes right down to the very core of my being.”
A snort of laughter bursts from me. Only Hux could take the profound experience I just had and make a dirty joke of it.
“Wait, does that mean you can guess the type of demon I am now based on how connecting with my power felt?”
His expression turns regretful in an instant. “It’s not that simple. Even a soul eater’s magic will feel pleasant to them, but that type of demon can make the process extremely painful for the being on the receiving end of their power if they desire.”
Hold the fucking phone.
“You’re saying I couldeatsomeone’ssoul?” Horror pushes bile up my throat at the thought. Maybe this was a mistake. What if I really am a monster?
“Probably not. Soul eaters are incredibly rare.” Realising I’m still freaked out beyond measure, he continues, “Sorry, I didn’t think how scary that gift would sound to someone raised human. I promise you have nothing to worry about. Even if by some miracle you are a soul eater, remember what I told you—no gift is inherently evil—it’s all about the one wielding it.”
“Right.” Selene said that too. Still not sure I ever want to run into someone capable of ingesting my fucking soul. But I told myself I’d keep an open mind while learning about the supernatural. Frankly, most of it sounds terrifying, but it’s unfair of me to judge based on my human biases. I exhale slowly. “Right. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’d be more concerned if you didn’t have a moment of human panic.”
