Page 11 of Devil's Delirium

The essence of timeworn volumes of leather-bound grimoires filled the air, along with a hint of dragon’s blood incense, creating anatmosphere that felt comforting and enigmatic. Shelves lined with ancient tomes, jars of ingredients, and trinkets surrounded me, each item seeming to whisper secrets of its own.

At the back of the shop, an elderly woman with silver hair tied in a loose braid stood behind the counter. She was dressed in flowing robes of deep purple and an assortment of glimmering jewelry hanging from her neck and ears.

Her sharp, knowing eyes locked onto me the moment I entered. “Good afternoon, dear.” Her voice was smooth and melodic, almost soothing, but with an edge that kept me alert. “I’ve been expecting you.”

I gaped, taken aback. “Expecting me?” I’d only just decided to stop in here when my last appointment was canceled, and I could close the shop at three instead of six.

The woman regarded me with a mysterious curve of her lips. “In a manner of speaking. My name is Seraphina. Please, come in.”

I approached the counter hesitantly, battling curiosity and unease in my belly. I’d heard whispers about this shop from other mages who dabbled in dark magic, but the reality was so different from what I’d expected. I thought she would resemble Morticia Addams, a character who was based on a real-life, very potent dark magic witch. As I understood it, most dark witches tended to embrace the goth aesthetic. It even happened to me. After I’d been working with blood magic for a few months, I found myself drawn more and more to dark and moody vibes, too, but I’d assumed it was the depression.

“What can I help you with, Tess?” Seraphina’s gaze was piercing and demanding.

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “I... I was searching for a spell. A remedy, I guess. I don’t know exactly what.”

Seraphina nodded slowly, as if she understood everything about me. “You’ve been through much, child. You cling to the shadows, and there is a power within you waiting to be awakened. It aches. You can feel it, can’t you?”

I frowned, unsure how to respond. I had always felt there was something bigger out there for me. Like I was better than Ivan treated me, and I should be able to squash him. But I thought it was just the rage inside at having been mistreated for so long. “What do you mean?”

Seraphina reached beneath the counter and pulled out a small, intricately carved box. She opened it to reveal a crystal pendant that seemed to pulse with an inner light. “You have very strong magic insideyou, Tess. It lies coiled and dormant for now because you are not yet ready. Your journey stretches centuries in every direction.”

What in the goddesses’ name did that mean? I stared at the pendant, feeling drawn to it. “Ancient dormant magic? I don’t understand. No, you’re mistaken. I couldn’t be living this life if I had power. I’m just... me.”

The witch’s eyes softened. “The magic within you will only awaken when you are ready—when you have learned to stand tall and confident, to control your own present. Only then will you slowly unfurl the dangerous, dark magic inside you.”

I held in a derisive sneer that Seraphina didn’t deserve. But what she was telling me was impossible. “Dangerous, dark magic? Believe me, if I had anything like that, I’d use it to control my present. That’s what I came for. To find out how to break free of my oppressor and seize control of my life.”

Seraphina’s expression was kind, yet knowing. “It is indeed, and you will find that path. Your freedom will be just as dangerous as your captivity, but you must not fear it. Your strength will come from within, and no one—no matter how powerful—will be able to take that away from you.”

I shook my head, a mixture of disbelief and trepidation flooding my body. I wasn’t sure I bought her story. And I was glad I couldn’t access it because Ivan would definitely capitalize on something like that.

Seraphina’s expression darkened at my thoughts of Ivan as if she were reading my mind. “I can sense his control over you, throttling everything you do. But remember, Tess, your destiny is your own. No one can control you unless you allow them to.”

My lips pressed together into a flat line. She was kind, but that comment made me feel judged. Like if I didn’t want to be controlled, I’d just stop letting him, so obviously, like a child, I welcomed it. I took a deep breath, knowing she didn’t mean it that way. She must have been describing a bigger, deeper truth that I couldn’t understand yet. “Thank you, Seraphina. I appreciate your time. Is there no grimoire that can help me with my current… problem?”

The witch shook her head, handing me the crystal pendant. “Sadly, no. The contract is binding. But keep this with you. It will serve as a reminder of the power within you and the journey ahead. When the time comes, you’ll be ready to embrace your true self.”

I accepted the pendant, feeling its weight in my gloved palm. As I left the shop, the bell chimed softly once more, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of profound dread. My life was full of uncertainties. I tried to live in the moment since I never knew if there’d be another to follow. But for the first time, a dark and dangerous future stretched out before me, and I was too intimidated by the unpredictability to be happy about it. I was tired of the everyday struggle just to exist and having just been told freedom was on the horizon, but to expect more danger and uncertainty on the other side, I just wanted to crawl into a ball and give up.

Chapter Seven: Etching Evil

Tess - present day

Tattooing Ivan in thedark was like performing surgery on a ghost—every line I drew felt like a step into the unknown.

It was a week before Halloween, and we’d cleared the entire day’s schedule for Ivan’s transformation, canceling and rescheduling clients’ appointments. Now, after hours and hours of tattooing him in the dim light he always insisted on, my head throbbed. He wasn’t always around, so his light aversion didn’t usually bother me, but today, I’d warned him—repeatedly—that I needed light to work. He still refused to let me turn the fluorescent lights on.

But hey, it washisface I was tattooing.

Hours and hours of hovering six inches away from his sinister eyes, boring into me, their glint never dulling despite the dim light. His disgusting teeth, recently filed to sharp points, flashedwith each grunt and hiss as the needle pierced his skin. I alternated between swiping the tattoo gun and the cotton pad in my other hand over his clammy flesh for endless minutes, the sickly sweet scent of blood and ink in the air. The constant buzz of the machine became a hellish lullaby, punctuated only by Ivan’s occasional chuckle or sharp intake of breath.

You’d think he’d want more light than the neon signs in the display window spasming on the walls. I stood over Ivan, who was sprawled in my leather chair. My shoulders ached and my stomach churned with anxiety. Plus, his breath was as bad as a vampire just coming out of hibernation.

I’d made sure my latex gloves were secure, careful not to let my skin come into contact with his. The last thing I needed was another vision of his gruesome demise. Tattooing was already intimate enough—and this was his face—without the added complication of my curse, so I wore them often, even when I wasn’t working.

He’d been a burly, rugged dude since the day we met, and his eyes gleamed like a kid at a carnival now that we were nearing completion.

Holding the gun steadily, I dipped the needle into a small pot of enchanted ink, swirling it around before going back to the brand-new markings on Ivan’s face. If I missed a spot, the consequences would be harrowing. My focus unwavering, I continued the last strokes in the blunt etchings of the creepy, smudged clown makeup he’d opted for.

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