Page 22 of Virgil's Demons

VIRGIL

The dream came in blood-soaked waves.

It started innocently enough—Barythaya's face, her pale beauty illuminated by some unseen light, like she was waiting for me. Always waiting for me. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders, those piercing eyes locking onto mine like magnets. But something was wrong. Something was twisted underneath the surface.

In the dream, we were together, tangled in sheets that were soaked, not with sweat, but with blood. Her skin was marked with cuts, thin, red lines crisscrossing her arms, her chest, and her thighs. The sight of it should've filled me with dread, but it didn't. Instead, I felt something dark stir inside me. Something raw and pure. The blood… it excited me. I could feel my heart racing, the pulse pounding in my ears as I ran my fingers through the crimson streaks on her skin.

But it wasn't just blood. It was her.

Her lips parted in a soft moan, a sound so sweet and seductive that it twisted my gut. But even as I pressed my body against hers, I knew it wasn't right. There was something sinister in the way she arched beneath me, in the way her eyes glowed, so unnatural, predatory.

And then he was there. The demon.

It wasn't me touching her anymore. It wasn't me pressing her to the bed, taking her, consuming her. It was him. His gnarled, mangled hands, his jagged smile as he claimed her over and over again. Barythaya screamed, her voice raw, but it wasn't from pleasure, it was from agony.

I wanted to stop it. I wanted to rip him off her, but I couldn't move. My body was frozen, locked in place as I watched the horror unfold in front of me. The blood poured like a river, the sheets drenched in it, her pale skin slick with it.

And all I could hear was the demon's laughter.

I woke with a hard jerk, my body covered in cold sweat, my heart thudding so hard I thought it would burst. The room was dark, and for a moment, I couldn't shake the image of Barythaya from my mind. The blood, the pain, the way the demon took her.

These fucking nightmares needed to stop. I wasn't sure if it was God fucking with my head or maybe it was the devil sending me some cruel messages but I was fucking done with it all.

I grabbed my phone, hands shaking as I dialed her number. The ringing echoed in my ear, each unanswered buzz making my stomach twist tighter.Pick up. Come on, pick up.

But she didn't.

My chest tightened, that dark feeling gnawing at the back of my skull. I didn't waste any time. I threw on a shirt, grabbed my keys, and sped through the streets toward her place. The dream felt too real, too visceral. I couldn't ignore it. Something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones.

When I got to her apartment, I banged on the door, hard. "Barythaya!" My voice echoed through the hallway, but there was no answer. My hand pounded against the wood again, each knock more frantic than the last. "Barythaya! Open the damn door!"

Nothing.

Without thinking, I slammed my shoulder into the door, the frame cracking under the pressure. Another hit and the lock gave way, the door crashing inward.

The smell hit me first, metallic, sharp, like copper. Blood. Then there was the stench of sulfur that permeated the air.

My heart dropped into my stomach as I stepped inside, my eyes scanning the room until I saw her. Barythaya was kneeling on the floor, her head bowed, her arms hanging limply by her sides. Her left wrist had a knife buried deep into it, blood pooling beneath her, seeping into the cracks of the floorboards.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. The sight of her, pale and fragile, with that knife sticking out of her wrist… it twisted something dark inside me.

For a split second, I didn't move. There was so much blood, and I could feel that same sick excitement bubbling up, the way it had in my dream.

But then I snapped out of it.

"Fuck, Barythaya!" I dropped to my knees beside her, my hands hovering over the knife, unsure whether to pull it out or leave it. The sight of her bloodied wrist made my pulse quicken, but I forced myself to focus. I couldn't let the demon get into my head. Not now. Not when she needed me.

I ripped a towel from the bathroom and pressed it against her wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "Stay with me, Barythaya. Stay with me, baby girl."

She didn't respond. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes half-closed, lips parted like she was caught in some sick dream. The demon was in her, I knew it. I could feel it, hear it whispering in the back of my mind, taunting me, telling me I was too late.

I lifted her, cradling her against my chest as I grabbed her car keys and rushed out of the apartment. The hospital wasn't far, but it felt like miles. Every second, I could feel her slipping away, the blood soaking through my clothes, her body cold and limp inmy arms. I drove like a madman, cursing under my breath the entire way.

At the hospital, they took her from me, rushing her into the surgery ward, and I was left standing in the waiting room, hands covered in her blood and my head spinning.

I didn't even see it at first.

Death.

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