Page 45 of A Study of Blood and Ichor

“Deal.”

When had I become so emboldened to begin making reckless and careless deals with a demon? What sort of death wish did I have?

“If you’re determined to be stubborn, I’ll need to prepare some further precautions before this evening.” The hard edge in his eyes melted. “Now, I’d like to show you something, if you’ll allow me.”

My curiosity got the better of me, and I nodded, unable to resist the tempting tone of his voice.

A pleasant smile inched across Vain’s face. “Freshen up first. There are clothes for you in the closet adjoining your bathroom if you haven’t found them already. They’re mostly Nesera’s, but she’s similar to you in size, so there should be something in there that will fit. I’ll return once you are ready.”

“Is that your way of telling me I look terrible?”

“Would you like for me to tell you the truth or lie?”

I huffed, slamming the door in his face and storming into the bathroom, not giving him the option to tell me either.

I looked terrible. The mirror didn’t lie to me. I stared at my reflection for longer than I cared to admit, barely recognizing the woman staring back.

Traitor.

My complexion was drained of all color, and my eyes were dry and bloodshot from exhaustion. Even my hair appeared to be a dull, knotted copper mess. Wild and unruly, and reminiscent of my sister’s…

Lonely. Broken.

I stepped into the shower and scrubbed my skin raw until it turned pink. Until I couldn’t bear the abrasive heat my scouring left behind.

Your fault.

Your. Fault.

The scalding water ran over me, and I let it wash away the last of my malignant thoughts until they were all but purged from the forefront of my mind. Brushed aside. But never truly gone.

After plaiting my hair down my back, I rummaged through the closet, a veritable trove of clothes of all different styles.

I pulled out a pair of too-large dark cargo pants that sagged off my hips slightly and a white long-sleeved shirt that hugged my torso. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing, so it would have to do.

Vain was waiting patiently for me in the hallway when I reappeared. He led me through the penthouse and into the great room before sliding open a set of doors that gave way to a cozy and neatly organized study.

“My personal library is at your disposal. If you’re insistent on looking for a way to exorcise me, I can promise you won’t find the answers you’re looking for here, but you’re free to take whatever you’d like from my collection at your leisure.”

Each wall was lined with shelves, all filled with hundreds of books. A large desk sat in one corner and a plush loveseat took up the opposite space.

When I glanced back up at Vain, one corner of his lips had quirked up into a soft smirk. “I’ll make sure that breakfast is brought to you so you can spend your time here today if you choose,” he said.

It was an unexpected gesture, more thoughtful than I assumed Vain was capable of. But before I could thank him, he’d turned away, shutting the doors on his way out.

Drawn to the shelves, I immediately began to familiarize myself with the titles. They didn’t appear to be cataloged in any particular order. Some spines I recognized as the same demonic texts I had spent years studying at Moreau. Most of the others I didn’t know. Many were even in other languages, some old, some current, some even written in the demon tongue.

I went to the desk with a decent pile stacked in my arms and found multiple plates of food waiting for me. I kicked myself for letting my guard down so much that I hadn’t heard anyone enter the room behind me. No matter how hard Vain tried to convince me that he might contain some shred of virtue, he was still a demon. And I was still hopelessly mortal.

Yet, my mouth watered at the spread in front of me. One plate overflowed with grapes and berries and a second was heaped with glistening sausage links, smoked ham, and steaming scrambled eggs. There was salted butter to spread and a small jar of whipped honey to drizzle over freshly toasted bread and warm croissants. My heart skipped at the sight of a fresh pot of black tea.

How did he know that was my favorite?

I gorged myself on the feast, mulling over Vain’s words with every bite. While he had assured me I wouldn’t find any clues to help me perform a successful exorcism, I was convinced that he was lying. There had to be something in his collection to give me the answers I needed.

So, I became determined to prove the demon wrong.

The hours I spent hunched over Vain’s desk poring over book after book left me with nothing to show for my efforts but a stiff neck and a dull ache behind my eyes. The damned demon had texts ranging from sigils and summoning spells, to tales and fables from Gehenna—the kinds of stories I imagined a demon child might be raised hearing. I was particularly engrossed in one, attempting to translate a tricky passage scribed in the demon tongue when I started.

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