Page 82 of Two Who Live On

“What are you?” I asked again, baffled and lost in the terror consuming me and Chanelle.

Jamie tilted his head, perplexed or mocking. I couldn’t decide. “I told you. Some call me a devil.”

“Impossible,” Chanelle said—every thought she had amplified, adding to the horror of each second that passed in the presence of a literal devil.

Demons rarely succeeded in achieving such a heightened state of power. Devils were the embodiment of perfected power. A collection of wisps that gathered in our reality, forming into a fiend which collected magic until it became a suitable host for a demon; then that demon stole a witch’s body, making them its host. If accomplished, they became a devil with a true foothold in our reality, possessing a proper host that contained their unnatural magic, keeping it from spilling over and depleting.

“How long have you been possessing him?” Chanelle snapped, her mind furious and somber simultaneously as she reacted to the fact that she didn’t recognize a demon surging within one of her students.

How could she, though? I’d been inside Jamie’s head. I’d heard his thoughts. Nothing indicated this.

Did it?I quivered.

“You heard what I wished you to hear, Dorian.” Jamie patted my shoulder like he knew my every thought, then he eyed Chanelle. “To answer your question, Mrs. Whitehurst, it was the start of the new semester. January. I considered arriving in Jamie’s flesh with a freshattitude, joining my little classmates with a nicer, plucky personality. But unfortunately, he’d left quite the impact on his peers, so I played his role to the best of my ability.”

“No, no, no.” Chanelle trembled behind me, her thoughts shaky.

“I do think I portrayed him convincingly.”

“We need to leave.” I backed away, turning to Chanelle.

The succubus Milo’s team had beheaded stood beside Chanelle, appearing out of literal thin air, a hand on Chanelle’s wrist. NO!

“Get away from her.” I unleashed a telekinetic burst, simultaneously tugging Chanelle from the demon’s grip.

Nothing happened.

“As I’m certain you know—because you’re so brilliant, Dorian—all demons, even those who ascend to a devil possession, lack an immunity to root magics,” Jamie said. “However, I’ve acquired skills to divert, displace, and diffuse those dangers.”

Demonic energy began to radiate off him, no longer cloaked by his devil possession. It oozed magic tenfold, no, one-hundredfold stronger than any demon I’d ever felt.

“Get those darling children back to the safety of your academy,” the succubus whispered, caressing Chanelle’s face. “Everything is okay. Dorian is fine. You are fantastic. Make sure the tiny teens are properly and thoroughly accounted for before you wake.”

She released Chanelle, whose eyes teared before she calmly turned on her heel and walked away. Her thoughts were fuzzy, her magic faded.

“My way of showing compassion,” Jamie—no, this demon housed in him as a devil—said. “I do not condone the mistreatment of mortals. I prefer…what is it you all say? Ah, yes, something about humane slaughter. A necessary evil when you feast upon the lesser beasts, though I will not be feasting on Mrs. Whitehurst. I rather enjoyed her company, in all her simplicity.”

“I enjoy the taste of her branch.” The succubus licked her fingertips, the same ones that’d gripped and compelled Chanelle to leave without a word.

“Distance yourself.” The devil waved a dismissive hand at the demon. “Your presence exhausts me and offends my guest.”

The succubus’ expression shifted from jovial to a fright I didn’t believe possible from the same woman who showed no fear when losing her head while interrogated by Milo.

“Of course. Apologies.” She backed away, keeping an eye on us but less intrusive.

I channeled my telepathy toward this monster possessing Jamie Novak. Echoes. Constant echoes whispered in the darkness of his being. Then nothing. Not one word. Not one sound. A painful silence followed by a drop of water. Tears splashing.

“Please, help.”

Jamie’s voice was faint, lost in agony. I panicked.

“Please.” The devil holding him captive gripped my wrist and twisted. “He’s a little sadist who met a meaner monster. Don’t pity him.”

Despite the grasp, my telepathy struggled to rifle through his thoughts to search his mind. Demonic energy truly made each push of my magic exhausting, like navigating the fray of a battle while the target moved behind an insurmountable wall. Peaks and valleys of shifting frequencies, each just out of reach and a faded whisper by the time I’d grabbed it.

“You’re attempting to read my mind. Quite impressive.”

“I’ve heard your thoughts before.”

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