Page 63 of A Study of Blood and Ichor

“That’s my good pet,” the demon preened.

Ilo’s head whipped around unnaturally fast as his attention flicked back to me. With the steeled grip of his fingers still digging into my cheeks, he turned my face to the left and then to the right as he studied me with an intense curiosity. I braced myself for a glamour to come my way next. I had been trained to resist demon glamours my whole life, but I knew I was susceptible to them eventually. I was still mortal after all.

An icy claw skittered across my mental walls, probing their strength, looking for any weakness.

“I was right.” Ilo chuckled to himself. “I knew exactly who you were when I laid my eyes on you…Helacourt.” He whispered my name into my face, and I was assaulted with the faintest tang of sulfur on his breath.

“Your name has quite a reputation amongst certain circles of ours,” he continued. “The legacy witch who summoned one of the fiercest demons to ever walk the realms…I’m curious, what did you hope to gain by summoning him? Was it power you were after? Or were you simply trying to prove that you could?”

Ilo’s fingers sharpened their grip on my face, and I hated the whimper that tore from my throat.

“Ahh, the latter, then.” His eyes flicked down to my mouth, then crept back up to bore into mine. “You know he’s here tonight, don’t you? I wonder how thankful he might be if I were to hand you over to him. How grateful would he be to finally be able to finish with you what he started with your sister?”

Every last bit of air in my lungs turned to ice, and the world around me seemed to go still. It was as if I'd suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

“You wouldn’t,” I said with as much of a snarl as I could muster, trying to stall for as long as I could before Vain or someone—anyone—would arrive.

No one was coming.

I cringed against the whispers of fear trying to worm their way around my heart and seep into the edges of my mind.

The demon’s smile was cruel. “No, you’re right. Because I think I’d much rather keep such a pretty thing like you all for myself.”

“If you do, you’re dead,” I said, hoping the demon wasn’t able to detect the slight wobble that came out with it.

Ilo clicked his tongue, and then the tip of it flicked out across his lips. I caught another rotten whiff of his breath and cringed further back. “I do not fear Vain. Especially not when Ghen has his sights set on him. I would surmise he may even be dead already. So, I’m free to take that little taste of you I’ve been yearning for.”

I shivered as he raked his knuckles down my cheek. With his dark gaze focused solely on my face, I took advantage of his distracted attention and inched one hand up past the slit of my dress to reach for the selenite dagger I’d strapped around my thigh.

I gripped the handle tightly and arced the blade straight at the demon’s neck. I knew that I should aim for the heart instead, but if I could disable him, even for a second, I could attempt to exorcise Ilo from his vessel. I had to at least try.

But before my knife even came close to grazing him, Ilo knocked my hand away with a simple flick of his wrist, and the blade fell into the grass. The demon leaped on me, smashing his hands to my temples to invade my mind and bring my most suppressed nightmares to the forefront.

The room is impossibly black. The darkness feels like its own entity. The shadows are alive. They feed off my fear as my heart leaps from my chest, a hollow ache clawing at my lungs. My blood pounds in my eardrums, nearly deafening me.

The darkness is hungry. And I let it out.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. Sascha. I need to find Sascha.

I don’t dare speak. Not a single sound.

There is something else here with us now. Something not of this realm.

My feet feel as if they’re anchored to the floor. My instincts scream at me to run, to get away. Fast.

But I can’t leave her. I can feel that Sascha is still here. There’s a prickling sensation at the back of my neck telling me that whatever else is here is close. I won’t leave without her.

I claw my way through the darkness, one feather-light step at a time, reaching out for something, anything, anyone.

I’m acutely aware of the sound of my breathing as it comes out shaky through my nose. I’m so focused on it that I almost miss the low, dragging inhale from across the room.

My foot connects with a burned-out candle I had set around the chalk pentagram, and it topples over. I wince as it clatters and rolls away into the shadows.

I stumble toward the breathing and nearly fall to my knees when I make out Sascha’s fiery red hair. She’s facing away from me, and her arms are wrapped around her knees as she curls into herself.

The wave of relief is so sweeping that I don’t notice the sense of wrongness surrounding her at first. Something is warped. Corrupted. But it’s too late. I clasp onto her shoulder.

I turn Sascha to face me, and the demon inside her flashes me a wicked grin and obsidian eyes threaten to swallow me up.

---