Page 126 of Sinister

Moments pass as we are at a standstill. He stares at me. I stare back at him, chest heaving.

“You’re right,” he finally mutters. “I apologize. That was uncalled for.”

I press my lips together.

“Fine. Apology accepted. Now go. Leave.” I point to the window.

But he doesn’t move.

So I do the only thing I can. I grab the poker from the fireplace and aim it at him.

“Come any closer, and I’ll hurt you.”

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink.

Instead, he smiles.

“My brave, brave Petra,” he says, almost laughing. “What will you do, hit me over the head with the poker?”

I push the poker forward until it skirts past his waistcoat.

His eyes flash with something dark, something that makes my stomach twist. He . . .

I gulp down. This doesn’t scare him. It only excites him more.

“You’re lying,” he says. “I know you want me. You want my fingers deep inside you, petting your little pearl. You want me because you know you’ll never feel the same without me.” He pauses and smirks, almost as if he knew about my secret time in the bathroom. “I’ll leave. For now. But don’t think for one moment that you aren’t mine. You’ll admit it one day. You will.”

He moves toward the window, his presence pulling the air with him. Before I can speak, he leaps.

Out the window.

I rush to the ledge, my heart thundering in my chest.

What . . .

It’s impossible.

I’m on the second story. No one could jump from this height and just . . . vanish. And yet, he’s gone.

Gone.

I scan the street, the shadows, the rooftops.

Nothing.

Not a sound. Not a trace.

I think of all the letters he left on my windowsill. How I never heard him approach, never heard him leave, never heard even one rustle. Not even once.

And now I wonder⁠—

Maybe the way he comes and goes . . .

Maybe it isn’t natural at all. Maybe it never was.

What if he told the truth when he said he did not take part in the summoning? Because what if . . .

What if he is a demon?