“…te oinomead muc muut elibuc itsiusop memilbus,” I finished, and immediately coughed, choked, and cleared my throat awkwardly.
Silence fell. Nothing happened, except for the familiar, dragging sensation of extreme disappointment.
If it had worked, even at all, I’d have expected…a clap of thunder, maybe. Possibly the oyster flesh pulsating lusciously? Although I couldn’t see it inside the can, to be fair. Vitality filling my body, or something?
My phone gave a loud chime, and I jumped so high I nearly whacked into the ceiling, letting out a strangled, high-pitched sound I was intensely grateful no one was there to hear. Occasionally there was something to be said for being alone and unloved. I subsided, panting, every nerve in my body quivering as adrenaline ebbed and flowed. My phone flashed, and I grabbed it and checked the notification. At least I’d summonedsomethingwith my menudo and stale cinnamon sticks.
“Congratulations!” it said. “Your car’s extended warranty has been activated!”
I blinked at it in utter disbelief. Did this shitty book I’d pulled out of the trash have a spell forbanishingtelemarketers, too, maybe? Because that would actually be useful.
And then I yelped again, spinning and flailing and flinging my phone behind me with a crash, as a deep, gravelly voice said, “Are you all right? In my experience, it’s a bad sign when humans make noises like that.”
Chapter Two
“Who—the fuck—fuck,” I gasped, staggering back and slamming into the wall, bonking my head on the cutting board I had hanging from a nail. “It worked. I can’t believe it—”
And then I froze in place, the words withering on my tongue, as all of my brain functions went on standby.
In the low, flickering light of the array of small candles, the owner of the voice was a huge, terrifying shadow filling the kitchen doorway.
It stepped forward, looming over me, head nearly brushing the doorframe.
Well,hestepped forward.
Definitely he. If the broad shoulders, masculine bare chest, and deep voice hadn’t been good clues, the enormous bulge in the front of his tight black leather pants made it clear.
He had to be nearly seven feet tall, skin a light reddish-bronze, his shoulders and chest and arms bulging with muscles that would’ve had Kenny or Scotty curled up in the corner crying. Long, long legs encased in those pants—the only thing he wore. And a harsh-featured face with—yes, a hint of fang peeking out between firm lips. Glittering, metallic dark-bronze eyes. Hair like flame, vermilion and burgundy, curling around his temples.
A demon. I’d actually summoned a real live demon. Using smoked oysters and birthday candles.
For fuck’s sake, it’d never worked at all when I was wearing my snazzy velvet cloak.Nowhe decided to show up?
Although if this particular demon had made an appearance when I’d started trying to summon one at fifteen, I’d have passed out cold from terror.
Even now, as a grown-ass adult, I slumped as my knees tried their best to give out. I pressed my damp palms to the wall behind me and stayed upright through sheer willpower.
“Well?” he demanded abruptly, voice a cranky rumble. “Are you all right or not?”
All right? Was I? For now, I guessed, unless he decided to do something horrible to me.
My nose twitched from the scorched scent of fire and stone and something even spicier than all the nonsense I’d put on my kitchen table. Definitely a demon, even though I could hardly believe it. Nothing else could possibly have a scent like that. It was the most enticing thing I’d ever encountered: the smell of pure temptation.
“I didn’t think you were supposed to have your own body,” I managed to say.
The demon took another step forward, the battered old wood floor creaking under his weight.
I squeaked and shrank back further against the wall, shoulder blades aching.
He stopped abruptly, brow furrowed, and crossed his arms. The way his pecs and biceps rippled and bulged would’ve given Kenny and Scotty some kind of religious experience, or maybe an aneurysm. Gods, I wished they were here to see this and feel deeply, horrifically inadequate by comparison. Although with my luck, the three of them would all go bond over the keto diet or something and leave me here with the oysters and my migraines.
Actually, no. As I recalled from Kenny’s endless monologues, the oysterswereketo. So they’d even take those.
“You’re definitely not all right,” the demon said. “In the head, if nothing else. Are you seriously afraid of me? You summoned me! Not that we don’t get that a lot. People are obnoxious.”
Not right in the—obnoxious—how dare he!
“I beg your pardon,” I sputtered, stung enough to push off the wall toward him, heedless of the potential danger. “My head’s fine! Mentally, I mean,” I added a bit anticlimactically, as I remembered that I had in fact summoned him because my head was the opposite of fine.
