Page 39 of A Study of Blood and Ichor

“What about you? Are you safe?”

Nesera clicked her tongue as she brushed past me. “As safe as I can be.” Then the cambion shot me a wink and sauntered over to the elevator, the two curved blades slung across her back catching the sunlight and flashed like a warning.

I scurried back to my room with a handful of things I’d swiped from the kitchen: two apples, a bottle of what appeared to be the most expensive sparkling water on the planet, and a sweet pastry that had been sitting under a glass domed display on the counter. It was barely any sort of filling meal, but it was enough to sustain me through the afternoon of research I had planned.

I set to work, thumbing through my notes and written accounts on possessions from textbooks I’d smuggled with me to determine the best course of action to re-attempt an exorcism, all while struggling to theorize how my and Lena’s attempts had all failed in the first place.

There were no written accounts I’d found in existence where an exorcism had ever failed, so the unprecedented nature of Rory’s and Vain’s situation left me baffled and unsure of myself for the first time in all my years of study. Over the course of endless hours of useless hypothesizing and an impending headache later, the only conclusion I’d come to was that in order to form a new plan, I would simply need to try again.

By the time I shoved my books away, it was nightfall, and it took me nearly another hour to steel my nerves before I decided to face Rory and Vain again.

I raised my knuckles an inch from their door at the end of the hall and hesitated, not sure who I would face. Holding my breath, I knocked once and then took a tentative step back.

Faint shuffling sounded from inside the room, but no answer came. I knocked again.

The muffled sounds of bare feet padded closer before the door opened and Rory peered through the crack. He stared down at me with glazed eyes. A crystal tumbler hung precariously from the tips of his fingers.

“Need something, witch?”

“Can I come in?”

His bored stare turned scrutinizing. “Why?”

“I need to attempt another exorcism on you tonight.”

“So soon?”

At least it hadn’t been an outright refusal. “If I’m going to find some way to exorcise Vain, then I need to do some research to figure out how to make it work.”

Rory left the doorframe, retreating into the darkened bedroom. I followed hesitantly.

The decor in their bedroom matched mine, only theirs was larger and dressed in a bit more opulence with dark walls and tall windows adorned with heavy curtains. An oversized bed sat against the far wall facing the dazzling view of the city, and the rumpled black sheets spilled over the edge onto the hardwood floor.

Rory sat on the edge of a small sectional in the corner of the room and bent forward slightly to rest his elbows against his thighs. One side of his face was cast in shadow, the other bathed in the warm light from the gas fireplace set into the wall. It was difficult to ignore that he was practically shirtless when his robe fluttered open, granting me a view of his bare chest that revealed the faded lashes leftover from Lena’s handiwork, and the sharp V that peeked out from the top of his low-slung lounge pants. I tore my gaze away and dug my toes into the fur rug at my feet.

“Well, get on with it.” Rory gulped down the last of his drink. “Make it quick and painful for me.”

My voice dropped low. “Rory, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Is that right?” His tone was scathing and accusatory, and I fought the urge to flinch.

“There are certain spells I can try. They can alleviate some of the pain that comes along with the exorcism so it won’t be so excruciating for you.”

“No. If you’re going to do it,” Rory said, his deep scowl and piercing gray eyes burning every inch of me in his hatred. “I want it to hurt.”

My heart tightened. “You don’t mean that,” I said.

“You don’t really know me, then.” He slammed his empty glass down and it cracked hard against the table.

“You’re right. I don’t,” I shot back, raising my voice. “It seems like I only know the Rory that’s pathetically convinced he can’t survive without a demon possessing him like nothing more than a cheap ride.”

Rory shot up from the couch and stalked toward me. “And you’re a witch with a savior complex who thinks it's her job to fix everything she touches.” His jaw ticked once, then twice as he stared me down. “Let me be the one to clue you in and tell you the truth that no one else will. You’re not capable of fixing anything. Not this. Not me. Nothing.” His words slurred slightly as he seethed, but that didn’t make the sharpness of them sting any less.

I backed away a step as my chest burned with anger. “You’re a sad, pathetic asshole,” I said, low and hushed.

“No, sweetheart. I’m a masochist.”

I gritted my teeth. “Stop calling me that.”

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