I’d wait around the clearing, just to see his face.I wanted him.I knew from the first moment I saw him that he was mine to protect. Mine to keep.
But unless I was somehow summoned to this realm, I’d have to settle for glimpses of his face in passing. More powerful demons, like myself, can see beyond the veil that separates our worlds. A small percentage of the powerful among us can send energy. But unless a magical being summons us, we cannot cross over.
When he ran through the trees tonight, scared for his life with tears in his eyes, his magic was so strong it called out to me, begging for help. The tears streaming down his face made memurderous. I want to hunt down his enemies, quarter them, and present their heads to him on a silver platter.
How could anyone treat my summoner this way—push him to the point of tears?
As he stumbled at the base of my tree, I knew it was my chance to finally claim him. I sent him a gale of chilling wind, opening his book to the page his ancestor wrote decades ago, warning him of my kind.
But he didn’t heed her warning. Now I’m here, and nothing can keep me from him.
As I invaded his mind and saw the atrocities he endured, I silently promised both of us I’d do everything in my power to protect him.
Avenge him.
Ambrose Stone will never be alone again. The witch who wronged him and the community that failed him will beg for his forgiveness before I end them.
Picking him up from the crypt, I carefully cradle his lithe body against my chest.
“I’ll take you home.”
Tonight is for passion, for leading him down a dark, one way path to corruption. I want to show him how good it will feel to have a demon inside him, in more ways than one.
Tomorrow, the reckoning will begin.
“Grimoire,” he purrs as he burrows into my chest.
I see the book sitting askew in a pile of leaves and levitate it to me before we go back to his house. Ambrose is tired, but not asleep. His eyes blink slowly as his breathing evens out.
I probe his mind again and hear his thoughts as if they were my own.
Safe.
He feels protected enough that he can relax. Let his body heal from the trauma he went through tonight.
His home is a small cottage surrounded by trees and beautiful flowers. The front door is cracked open, revealing the darkness inside. There are no lights on, just an eerily stillness. Caulder may be waiting to finish what he started. I’ll burn the entire world to the ground before I let him lay another finger on Ambrose. Nothing will ever harm my summoner again.
I stand at the doorway and weave my shadows through the room. They slither down every hallway, inside each room, in search of any form of life. When they find nothing, I’m satisfied that no one is hiding.
When I get inside, I turn on the light. The entire house is trashed. The glass-top coffee table is smashed, with large shards sticking out of the carpet. The bookshelf has been turned over, and some of the texts are torn apart. Multiple houseplants are uprooted, their pots smashed and dirt in heaps.
The part of the kitchen I can see from here doesn’t look any better. The cabinets are wide open. Broken plates and glasses cover the worn floor. There's food and empty takeout containers spilled over the table and chairs. This destruction has Caulder’s name all over it.
“My house…” Ambrose squeaks as he peeks up from my chest. “It’s ruined.”
“It can be fixed,” I assure him as I put him down and hand him his grimoire.
Slowly, he walks toward the upended shelf and picks up the pieces of a broken porcelain figurine. It looks like a boy dressed in blue, reading a book.
“My parents gave me this when I was a kid. I used to spend all my time reading in the woods, and they said it reminded them of me.”
I extend my open palms, and he hands it to me. Using my magic, I fuse the pieces together again, as if it was never broken.His small smile takes my breath away. I’d spoil him every minute of every day just to see him smile.
I channel my magic on a larger scale and reset his apartment. I move from room to room, putting everything back in its rightful place. Everything looks tidy and clean by the time I’m done.
“You fixed it,” he says with a tone of astonishment. I set his figurine in the middle of the coffee table.
“I said I would. You’ll find I’m a demon of my word,” I reply in a hungry voice.
