“Listen, kiddo, if you want to start saving up for a place, go for it. Maybe once you have enough and prove you can be responsible, she’ll be open to discussing it again. But for now, focus on getting a job and saving money.”
“Fine, I will.”
“Good.” He turns away from me and steps into the hall. “Love you, kiddo.”
“Love you too.”
Chapter Fourteen
Sturgeon Moon
After apologizing to my mom and having an hour-long heart-to-heart, she agreed to let me move out, but only after I’ve saved at least three thousand dollars, preferably five.
My dad hung my door back up a few hours ago, and after a few days without it, all I want to do is leave it open. I chew the side of my thumbnail. Tonight’s the full moon, the return of Mastyx, and I’m fucking petrified. I asked my parents to stay home with me, but the stupid neighbor is having another one of his fucking moon parties. He doesn’t usually have two in a row, but I guess the Perseid meteor shower could be visible at the same time through a telescope, and it’s a big deal.
I mean, it’s not like my parents could stop Mastyx, even if they tried. Could they even see him, I wonder? Or would they come in and just see handprints showing up on my body, seemingly placed there by a ghost?
“We’re heading out,” my dad says, his brow furrowing at my bleeding thumb as he swoops into my room. “Kiddo, you have to stop biting your nails, or I’m going to buy you some of that bitter polish and lather it on like soap.”
“I know. It’s just, I haven’t been alone since the night of the fire.” I stare at my floor, not wanting him to see the fear lingering in my eyes.
The mattress sinks as he sits beside me. “We are leaving the cellphone on the kitchen table for you in case of emergencies and will be right down the street. We can be here in less than a minute.”
I lean my head against his black-and-white plaid button-up, the faint scent of cheese wafting from his breath. “Did you get into mom’s cheese platter for the party?”
He pulls me against his side, a devious smile playing on his lips, and squeezes my bicep. “Oh, I may have had a nibble or two.”
“Look who’s poking the bear now,” I say, glaring up at him.
My body falls sideways with a quick, but playful push of his hand. “Get out of here.” He stands, leans down and kisses the top of my head. “Remember, you wanted to prove that you can be out on your own, so staying here alone, without an issue, will certainly boost your mother’s confidence.”
“I know, Dad. I’m going to work on setting up my Etsy shop and uploading pictures of my natural death creations.”
“Okay. Well, keep the doors locked, and we’ll be home sometime after two.” He walks away from me and disappears into the hall, leaving the door open.
I glance at my wall clock. It’s five minutes to eight. Six hours alone. A six-hour window, Mastyx could show and torture me with his flaming hot body. My legs tighten at the thought, and a tremor rises in my abdomen, my anxiety trying to rear its ugly head. I hope he comes as a full man, not a creature or even a partial one. It would certainly make things easier.
My head spins, a part of me wanting to let everything go and not worry about what happens next, and the other part wanting nothing more than to run and hide inside a church, where I may or may not be protected.
I’ve come to accept he’s not going to kill me, and he’s obviously willing to go to great lengths to protect what he claims is his, so why am I still so afraid?
My thoughts wander to what I’m going to say to him, and my hands begin to tremor. I rub them together, trying to ease my nerves. Should I ask him not to leave marks where my parents can see? Or ask him how I can help him be more manly and less beastly? How can I even address the issue without coming off as insulting? The shaking has traveled from my hands into my entire trunk, rattling my core. Don’t be afraid, Tessa, the worst he can do is sayno.
Fuck, Tessa. What are you even saying? He’s a demon. You can’t control him. I rub both my sweating palms up and down my upper thighs. I wish they’d stop trembling. My jaw staggers open and close, chattering my teeth. Calm down, Tessa, everything’s going to be fine. Deep breath in, I close my eyes and blow it out. I open my eyes and gaze down at the wound on my leg. It has healed faster since Mastyx ripped it open and sealed it back shut. The doctor at my final follow-up thought it was the honey ointment I’ve been using—says it works wonders. So does the fiery hand of a demon, I thought to myself at the time.
I shake my head, trying to clear it and focus on taking nice photos of my art. Although I didn’t sell all the pieces at the craft fair, a lot of people asked about a website to purchase later, which I didn’t have. I took their information on a sign-up sheet with their emails, so I could let them know when the site was ready.
My bedroom door slams when I hit send on my last email, and I leap to my feet, my eyes like saucers scanning the empty, but dimly lit room. “Mastyx?” I murmur. I stare at my bedroom door for a few seconds, listening for any signs of life on the other side before crossing the room and trying the knob.
It won’t open.
I scan the floor first, looking to see if something is blocking it from opening, before I look at the top of the frame. My eyes widen as a blackened handprint burns into the wooden door, an orange outline shining brightly and flaking off, embers floating to the floor. I can’t see him, but he’s here.
The floor creaks as I back up toward my bed, swallowing hard. I need to try to control what happens next, or at least find a way to make it less petrifying. All I can think of in my crazy mind is accepting what’s about to happen. Perhaps if he stays invisible, it won’t be so bad. Charred hoof prints burn through my fluffy, white area rug, sending the foul smell of melting polyester into the room.
In the weeks leading up to this full moon, I spent hours researching a way out, but came up short, except for straight-up witchcraft and rituals. Neither of the topics I researched yielded a single answer to any of my many questions.
I’ve spent almost every night crying myself to sleep in anticipation of Mastyx’s next visit and the pain he’ll bring with it. One night, I had a particularly ugly meltdown, and an epiphany soon followed. He wants my body, so maybe I can use that to my advantage. Although I’ve accepted my fate, it doesn’t make this any easier, especially when he stands before me, his hooves smoldering through my area rug.
