Putting in my best effort, I manage to keep my eyes glued to his face, noting that his tentacles and tail aren’t the only long black things hanging off him. His hair is long and black too.
The sides of his head are shaved—or hairless, I’m not sure—but dense dark hair falls from the top of his head and down to his lower back, swept away from his face. It spreads out behind him and on the floor, puddling into a silky mass. Some is plastered to his shoulders—the rest of it out of my view. There are two small black horns on either side of his hairline, right above his temples. Sharp and pointed upward, they seem smooth as rolled stone and look like weapons. I can tell instinctively that they would hurt badly if I were to be stabbed by one.
His ears are pointed and long, like a fae’s. When he draws one of his hands in front of him, my gaze tumbles to it. It has six digits, although two are thumbs, placed one on top of the other. The other four are fingers, webbed and too long to be human.
He doesn’t have a belly button, only a slightly curved indentation in the same spot.
I’m still stunned that he’s here at all, and that I might have been the one that brought him here. Because if he really is a demon, then whatever the Cyane witches were up to had been done with powerful dark magic, so powerful that there was enough magical residue left from the spell to open another portal and pull something through it. A portal into Hell? Maybe. If he were telling the truth.
Only those with true power could accomplish such a feat.
I swallow thickly and finally drop my eyes below his waist, straight past it, and at the ground around him.
The circle and star have been destroyed except for a pale red that seeped throughout the entire inner space. Though the carpet isn’t wet anymore, which is odd because it was soaked earlier. Several thin black tentacles, as thin as a pencil and as long as themerdemon’stail, sway in and out of my vision and across the white fibers.
I swallow again, reminded of his tongue on my eyes and the pressure of it tickling the skin under my eyelashes. It’s not that I’m a prude—I just don’t like getting into trouble. Which is why I’ve never been a good witch, because trouble always finds me anyway, even when I try to avoid it.
“Hellhounds? Ridiculous creatures. You seem afraid to look at me, little witch, and yet you summoned me here. Am I that hideous? Or are you afraid to look because of something else? Your eyes are avoiding a certain part of me.”
I stiffen and my eyes dart to the interest expressed plainly in his gaze. Heat scores my cheeks as they erupt into a blush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What happens if I leave?”
“First, I need more water.”
My brow arches. “You look wet enough to me.”
“I am now, but I won’t be for long. My body will dry out and fade from this realm if I am to remain in an uninhabitable part of it,human. You should know this if you summoned me.” His voice has that teasing tone to it again.
“I didn’t summon you.”
Or did I?
He looks me up and down. “Yes. You did.”
I point to the steam cleaner sitting to his left. “No, I didn’t.” I push my hair back over my shoulder, and notice his eyes track its fall. “Someone else left the summoning circle behind and I was in the process of cleaning it before you appeared, but I will get you some more water…” I slip my phone back into my pocket, and, feeling less like my life is in immediate danger, head back to the bathroom to fill a clean cup full of water. “As long as you don’t hurt me, I’ll get you as much water as you need,” I say, walking back to him and carefully placing the cup at the mostly faded edge of the circle before backing away again. “You can’t leave the circle, can you?” I ask as he reaches for the cup.
“I can if you finish destroying it.” He takes the cup and brings it to his lips, his eyes on mine. And in a stifled, short silence we stare at each other while he gulps the entire thing at once. As he pulls the cup away from his mouth, his tongue swipes his lower lip and he thrusts it back at me. “More.”
I point to the ground. “Roll it back over. I’m not reaching for it. I’m not that stupid.”
He smiles and tosses it to my feet. I head for the sink, then return with more water and kneel back at the circle’s messy edge. “Why can’t I leave? I’ve never summoned or attempted tosummon something before. What happens if this,” I gesture at everything, “isn’t completed? I need you out of here as soon as possible.”
“You ask as if I have all the answers. Human, I am not here because I want to be, nor would I be willing to help any human who dared disturb me intentionally. But I will answer your original question for your gifts of water.” He slowly waves his tail back and forth along the rug, pulling my attention away briefly with how velvety it looks now. “You should not leave because I do not want you to leave.”
I straighten, ready to head right out of here if that’s true. “I won’t go into a sneezing fit or be mauled by hounds?”
He laughs. “No. At least not the hounds. I have no hounds to set upon you. Maybe nightmares. As for the sneezing, I wouldn’t know. That is a human act.” His voice ends with a slight hint of disdain.
“Are you able to just… leave back to your world then? Because that would be great. You can just stay in there and head home and I’ll finish destroying it after you’re gone.”
“That’s not what someone in my situation expects to hear after the effort it takes to summon one such as I, even if it were a mistake… Perhaps it’s fate?” he suggests slyly.
“So we agree, I summoned you by accident then?”
“I have not decided.” He goes back to eyeing me curiously, like I’m something small and interesting and he doesn’t understand why.
It makes me feel oddly good, like maybe I am interesting in some capacity, but also nervous and on edge. Either way, it’s a reminder to keep my guard up.
“Can you just up and leave, please?”
