"Why are you possessing this human?" I demanded, standing to my full height. "What do you want with the artifact?"
The demon laughed, a sound like breaking glass that made Kearan wince beside me.
"The artifact?" It tilted the woman's head at an impossible angle. "Such a small word for such a grand tool. The Soul Stone contains power beyond human comprehension. I merely... borrowed it. Siphoned what I could before your team intervened."
The demon stood, moving the woman's body with jerky, uncoordinated movements, like a puppet on tangled strings. The rest of Supernatural Team 5 were frozen in their seats, terror paralyzing them.
"These humans," the demon continued, gesturing to the members of ST5 with disdain, "they think their little talismans and protections keep them safe from our kind. But they're nothing. Not like the other teams. Not like yours." Its black eyes fixed on Grayson, then on Kearan. "These ones have strong wards. But the rest? They might as well hang signs saying 'vacancy' around their necks."
The demon took a step toward me, and chaos erupted.
Two of the ST5 members—a stocky man with a military haircut and a woman with a sleeve of tattoos—bolted from their chairs, scrambling for the door. Their panic was a tangible thing, filling the room with the acrid smell of fear-sweat.
"Parker, get back!" Grayson shouted, lunging across the table toward the possessed woman.
Kearan moved in perfect sync, circling around to flank her. His usually calm face was hard with concentration, hands already glowing with healing magic… useless against a demon, but ready to help the host if needed.
But the remaining two ST5 members, apparently deciding that sticking with their teammate was the way to go, jumped to their feet. One of them, a tall man with a scar across his jaw, threw himself between Grayson and the possessed woman. The other, a slight woman with close-cropped red hair, squared off against Kearan.
"Don't touch her!" Scar-jaw shouted, shoving Grayson back. "She needs medical attention, not whatever the fuck you're trying to do!"
The demon just watched, amusement twisting the woman's features into something grotesque.
My blood boiled. Without thinking, I thrust my hand forward and let loose a command that came from somewhere deeper than thought.
"FREEZE!"
The word tore from my throat with demonic force, hanging in the air like physical weight. Every human and shifter in the room stopped mid-motion, caught like insects in amber. Only their eyes moved, wide with terror as they realized they couldn't control their own bodies.
The demon, however, just clapped the woman's hands together in a slow, mocking applause.
"Impressive," it said, circling the frozen humans with predatory interest. "But fading, isn't it? I can feel it… the power from your Soul Ring is already wearing off. In a few more hours, you won't be able to command a housefly, let alone one of my kind."
It leaned in close, the woman's face inches from mine, breath hot against my cheek. "And then? Then I'll take what's rightfully mine. Your power. Your essence. Your place in the hierarchy."
I tried to step back, but found myself rooted to the spot. Not from my own command. The demon was right. My power was already fading, slipping through my fingers like sand.
"When I'm done with you," the demon whispered, "you'll be begging for the mercy of oblivion."
Fear slithered down my spine, cold and sharp. I reached deep inside myself, clawing for the demonic power that had surged so readily just moments before. But where that well of darkness had been, I found only echoes. Empty space where power should be.
Grayson and Kearan remained frozen by my command, their eyes frantic as they fought against it. The demon laughed, enjoying the show.
A crackling sound, like lightning striking too close, split the air. Mephistral appeared on the conference table, his tiny form silhouetted against the overhead lights. The imp's appearance was dramatic as always… smoke billowing around him, his eyes glowing red embers in his small face.
"Well, well, well!" he cackled, hopping from one foot to the other. "Looks like someone's throwing a party and forgot to invite the life of it!"
The demon's head snapped toward Mephistral, momentary confusion crossing its borrowed features.
Another sound followed… a low, rumbling growl that seemed to vibrate through the foundations of the building itself. From the shadows beneath the table emerged Cerbie, his three heads moving in perfect, predatory sync. Each massive jaw dripped saliva that sizzled when it hit the floor, leaving small scorch marks on the tile.
The ST5 members, still frozen by my command but able to move their eyes, tracked Cerbie's emergence with undisguised horror.
Mephistral zipped around the room, a blur of movement and caustic commentary. "My, my, what an ugly meatsuit you've found," he taunted the demon, darting just out of reach. "Did you pick the most pathetic human on purpose, or was it just the only one desperate enough to let you in?"
The demon snarled, lunging for Mephistral, who vanished and reappeared on the other side of the room. "Missed me! Oh, and your mother was a mewling sludge-dweller!"
While Mephistral provided the distraction, Cerbie stalked forward, all three pairs of eyes locked on the possessed woman. There was nothing playful in his advance—just the cold, calculated movements of a predator closing in on prey.
