- Korithax
My knees almost give out. I grip the counter, the card clutched in my fist, heart pounding so hard I think I might be having a heart attack.
He was real.
He was real.
Chapter 5
Daisy
Ididn’t sleep.
Not because I was scared. Okay, maybe a little scared. But mostly because I was absolutely, completely, cosmically baffled. I mean, there was a demon in my living room last night. A demon. Horns, wings, and a voice like molten sin. That’s not normal. That’s not how my Tuesdays go.
Now the card sits on my nightstand, silent and smug and all too mocking for my liking. Matte black with golden edges and silver foil lettering, like it’s some VIP invite to Hell’s Met Gala.
Your soul now belongs to me.
- Korithax
The writing looks too elegant for the threat it carries. Like something written on wedding invitations. Except this one’s promising eternal damnation instead of cake and bad dancing. How rude. I keep hearing his voice. That dark, silky tone that held such power behind it that my skin instantly broke out in goosebumps when it caressed my ears. The way his shadow filled my apartment, and how the air itself shifted around him,as if the laws of physics personally stepped aside to make room. And every time I blink, I see him standing there. Boots planted, arms folded, not a care in the freaking world. Honestly? Kind of iconic… if you forget the part where he owns my soul.
I tryto go about my morning like I haven’t just been told I’m literally soul-deep in demonic debt. Because really, what could I do? Make a complaint to demonic customer services? I brush my teeth and change into leggings and a bright yellow hoodie, the weather turning a little too cold for my usual bright and floral summer dresses, and twist my hair into a messy bun. Padding bare foot across my cramped little flat, the cold floor cold against my toes, I make a smoothie with the last little bit of milk in my fridge and the banana that could’ve been thrown out a few days ago, as well as some frozen berries.
My place is tiny. Like, cupboard-under-the-stairs-but-with-bills tiny. But I love it. Fairy lights drape over my little bookshelf, which is jammed with every fantasy paperback I could afford second-hand. My bed is a nest of mismatched pillows and blankets, the walls are plastered in sticky notes, and I have precisely one working lamp.
Even though I know I need to nourish my body, I throw the smoothie away after just one sip. Everything tastes wrong now, with my stomach constantly churning like a never-ending storm. I can physically feel the anxiety and dread eating away at me; it feels like my body is in fight or flight. Except, there is no flight. And I highly doubt I could fight against a demon and win. So what? Instead of fight or flight, it’s… bow down and surrender? Yikes.
Still, despite everything, I go to campus anyway because after a morning of staring at my web browser, I had run out of things to Google. Not like I really knew what to look for in the firstplace. ‘How to reverse a soul bargain made by your alcoholic father with an ancient demon?’ Safe to say, there wasn’t a Reddit thread for that, no matter how hard I tried to will one into existence.
By the time I get there, I’ve convinced myself this is fine. Totally fine. Everything is sooooo fine. Except it’s not. Because apparently, demons are real. Demons. I’ve read almost every fantasy series I could get my hands on, and not once did I ever expect to be starring in one. Where’s my sword? Where’s my prophecy? Why is my magical inheritance an ancient blood pact forged by a drunk dad with a devil man who looks like a cursed Calvin Klein model?
I flop onto a bench near the arts building and try to study—which is going really well if the goal is to draw increasingly chaotic doodles of little flame emojis around the word HELP.
“You look like you wrestled a demon in your sleep and lost,” Ezra says, flopping down beside me.
I almost laugh, a choking sound leaving me instead. The irony of his words wasn’t lost on me.
“Do you mind? Some of us are busy suffering in silence.”
He sits swinging his legs off the side of the bench, his purple eyeshadow extra glittery today. “Hmm. Suffering loudly is much more therapeutic. Trust me.”
“You would say that. You’re literally the loudest person I know.” I scoff.
“And you love me for it.” He beams.
“Undeniably.” I smile. Because it’s impossible not to when Ezra’s around. He smells like sweet marshmallows and has a constant chaotic aura surrounding him.
“You okay, Daze?” He adds, softer now.
“Fine,” I chirp. “Just discovering that Hell is real and I have a personal demon. You?”
Ezra blinks. “Is this one of your books that you’re reading or…?”
I wave it off. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.” My voice cracks on the last word, and I fake a cough to cover it.
He stares at me, any hint of amusement gone from his face. “Daisy…”
