CHAPTER ONE - DAMON
THE COLD CHILL of late October wrapped around me as I strode past the wrought iron gates and onto the mansion’s grounds. Dying grass and broken limbs cracked beneath my black boots, scaring away any rodents and sending the crows fluttering into the air.
I’d searched years for what lurked inside this mansion. Years of standing in front of mirror after mirror and screaming her name, only to come up short each time. It had to be the right mirror, so the other demons had said. The right time of year. And only at the stroke of midnight.
This was Mary’s curse for all that she’d done in her life.
Mary. The demon dubbed ‘Scarlet Mary’ who had taken down person after person on her way to becoming a tyrant. Mary, the demon that supposedly took unwilling men back into the mirror after seducing them. She’d once been free to any mirror, but after murdering and taking so many bodies back to her realm, she was caught and trapped within this one.
I’d often wondered why she’d not been killed that day.
A few stones crumbled beneath my feet as I stepped across the pebbled pavers that were now overgrown with dying weeds. The mansion had last been occupied forty-seven years prior by a family who thought the mirror they’d bought would be the perfect centerpiece in the library. A book in their collection had revealed what truly lay inside that reflection, and it had been one of the children who had dared to set Mary free for a ravenous night.
Though, she’d left the young ones alone and only feasted on the parents.
Mary was forced back into her mirror at sunrise. I learned a few daredevils and spirited teens had summoned her over the years, thinking her existence was a hoax, and it was their disappearances that led me here to the mansion.
Cobwebs lingered over the wrought iron raven knocker and in every crease of the grand double-doors. I tried the oval doorknob—unlocked—and then pushed on the door.
It screeched open, and with its noise, crows flew off the roof over the curved window to my left.
An ornate staircase greeted me upon entering. Leaves and dust scattered the dark floor, more cobwebs covering the sconces and grand chandelier high above me. I looked down at the makeshift map on a napkin that the last demon had drawn out, showing me where the library was, before then heading up the stairs, my flashlight being the only guide I had.
The smell of the mansion was the same smell I’d grown accustomed to over the years. It smelled of decay—not only of rotten leaves and debris but also of the loss of life. Something else pricked the air here, however. There was an iron tang in the stagnant air. Blood, I realized. Only Mary would use such a scent to warn those of her presence.
With a left at the top of the stairs, I headed down a long hall. Typical oil paintings and unlit lanterns lined the walls. I slowed to shine my light over a few framed photos on antique dressers. The last family who had lived there had left the photos behind, although the paintings on the walls were much older.
At the end of this hall was a spiral staircase. My map bore an X atop this, marking my final destination. I examined the iron stairs first, shining my light up through the ceiling to the next floor. The iron smell was more pungent here, the air cooler.
Every step creaked beneath my boots; the footholds rattled with the weight. I half expected it to come crashing down atop me, but it held, and I ascended to the next level.
It opened up to a foyer of sorts—another grand chandelier hanging high above, a small mirror over the dresser before me, and a set of gracious wooden doors to my right. I tossed my flashlight over and over in the air as I stared at the heavy doors, the iron rings where doorknobs should have been.
As heavy as the doors looked, they opened with ease. Chills rose on the back of my neck at the uncomfortable energy within the room.
It was a shame such a beautiful place had fallen under her spell. The library was massive. Books lined shelves on the story above, and two more spiral staircases in either corner on the opposite side of the room. A fireplace sat in the back, and in front of it was the largest desk I’d ever seen. Papers were strewn atop it like the person who had once worked at this desk had not anticipated their demise. Books were stacked on either side of it, all pulled from the extensive shelves on every wall. A thick layer of dust lined them. Tall candles sat in golden holders on the bookcases.
And there, in an alcove carved out of the room with diamond-paned windows behind it, sat the tallest, most audacious mirror I’d ever laid my eyes upon.
This was the mirror of Scarlet Mary.
Nearly six feet tall, it was lined with thick, ornate golden trim—ravens and roses carved into it. The mirror itself seemed to have a depth to it, like it held its own world within the glass. Shadows lingered around me as I peered into its reflection. They seemed to swarm even in the places where my flashlight shone.
A whisper tickled my ear, cold air brushing my neck. In the reflection, I saw a slender hand with sharp fingernails tipped in black rake across my shoulder.
Help me, the shadow seemed to whisper.Set me free.
I flinched at the feeling of a tongue licking the shell of my ear.
Mary.
One glance around the room, and I knew it held everything I needed to summon her, contain her. I sat my flashlight on the desk and began to gather candlesticks and search the desk for chalk.
Within the hour, I had the room ready. I’d lit every candlestick I could find and placed them strategically around the binding circle I’d drawn on the floor. Satisfied with my work, I took off my jacket, rolled up the sleeves of my button-down, and pulled the oversized armchair from behind the desk, sitting it directly in front of the mirror, two feet from the edge of the circle. I liked dressing up for my more anticipated killings. It made them feel more like an event rather than my job. And Mary… well, Mary was a special case—my most anticipated kill.
I wondered what kind of fight she would give me… And I nearly smiled at all the possibilities.
I reached into my jacket and pulled out my cigar, lit it, and then sat down in the armchair. The first puff of smoke filled the air as I said the name that few dared to say, the name I’d screamed and shouted for so many times before.
