Page 422 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

Sharp, thick teeth, black eyes cut through with red catlike slices and enormous membranous wings stretched out behind, fluttering gently in the hot wind, embers curling around them.

The demon who came when he performed the ritual and offered him his fool’s bargain.

‘You.’

The demon stares, mimicking his movements.

Mirroring him strangely.

‘You,’ it says.

‘I…’

‘I…’

Lachlan scowls.

The demon copies it.

He lifts a hand and presses it perfectly against the dark, claw-tipped talons of the creature before him.

The divide between them shimmers.

There was no demon, Lachlan. Only a mirror.

A tail swishes between the demon’s legs, thick as a wrist. He’s wearing only dark pants torn at the knees.

This world is a lava pit.

‘Am I dead?’

The creature before him says the same, asking him.

‘Am I dead?’

Lachlan turns on the spot and then looks up.

The only thing he sees that reminds him of home is the moon, yet she’s broken in the sky. Shattered and torn almost clean in half, static debris hovering.

No water. No wind. No waves.

Fire. Lava. Vengeance.

Wrath.

‘Jules?’ he calls out. ‘Mimi?’

‘Jules? Mimi?’

‘Go away,’ he hisses.

‘GO AWAY!’

The monster screams it back.

‘Leave me alone!’

‘LEAVE ME ALONE!’