Page 83 of Two Who Live On

“You heard what I allowed. Even those were fabrications of a role I played.”

“W-why?”

“I needed to blend, so nothing about my behavior differed from Jamie’s personality. I’d contribute my talented performance to whyno one suspected my presence; however, I found it difficult maintaining his constant entitled rage.” The devil chuckled. “So much to unpack there.”

That was why Jamie’s—correction, this devil’s—thoughts alternated so erratically between bursts of enraged tones.

“Why possess him? Why play the part of a student?”

“To study you, Dorian. I needed to understand who you were. There was much I did, yet mortals change over time. Twelve years had passed, and I sought to unravel your mystery before seeking your aid.”

Twelve years. That was when the gorgon grabbed… That was when Finn died. This devil sent the gorgon, stole Finn’s life, but wanted to return to Chicago to study me? To what end? I trembled, attempting to break free of his grip. I needed to escape. Find help. Call out and link my telepathy to Milo.

“Attempting to contact Enchanter Evergreen?” Jamie’s eyes flitted curiously, and I quaked at the presence of telepathy intercepting my thoughts, scanning them, tiptoeing the edges of my mind.

“How are you in my head?”

“It’s not the host, if you’re wondering. This child’s arcane branch is quite impressive, but I’ve acquired many greater magics in my time here.”

Demons didn’t acquire magics. They possessed their own. They devoured magic, searching for unique and powerful ones, yet there shouldn’t be one—devil due to possession or not—that could simply inherit new abilities. I searched my thoughts carefully, keeping my attention on the psychic energy and observing where my memories went. I couldn’t think of a single demon that possessed its own form of telepathy. But I needed to narrow this monster’s classification down if I wanted to survive an encounter against a devil.

“Milo,” I thought, searching for his mind and ready to share everything I knew, which wasn’t enough.

“I hate to disappoint, but I believe The Inevitable Future is busy protecting the happiness of the many over the happiness of the few. That’s been his weakness since he made the decision that is his biggest regret: choosing vengeance over finding me. A true downfall for him now.”

Jamie released my wrist and stepped away as he mused over my confusion. I cracked my neck, burying my fears and impulsive conclusions, and hoped to create a real place beneath the random words and memories I hurled outward as a distraction.

“Given my ability to resurrect fallen demons, it’s garnered me much allegiance over the years,” the devil explained. “I have hundreds of loyal demons raining hellfire onto this city. Thanks to the guilds’ lack of cooperation, I believe the great and heroic Enchanter Evergreen will be too busy fighting, searching for, and saving every potential future dimly buzzing in his clairvoyance. After all, the future’s so much bleaker and hard to see when we’re nearby.”

The devil’s thoughts opened immediately, inviting me—no—dragging me into the depths of his mind’s core.

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

Scalding tar flowed everywhere. A sea of demonic energy served as the representation of the devil’s inner thoughts. I choked, struggling to breathe, to swim, to see through the heavy sludge that seemed endless. Faint whispers and cries called from beneath. Ignoring them, I swam up. Up. Faster. Harder. Searching desperately for a way out of this thick toxic horror. Was this why demons’ minds were so difficult to read? Did they all have such deathly inner cores?

A hand cut through the tar, pulling me into quiet darkness. I gasped for air. My hands and knees pressed against the rippling sea of tar below, but I didn’t sink back into it. I searched for something in this place. A memory. A stray thought. An exit. Nothing but infinite darkness. Shadows went on and on, slithering subtly so I could almost make out the different textures in this world.

“I wish to know your understanding of demons, Dorian.” Jamie’s voice echoed in sync with the creature possessing his body, the onethat’d infested his mind into an ocean of black nothingness. “Specifically, I’d like to know your knowledge of devils.”

I quivered, desperate to leave. Shaking it off, I steadied my breathing and accepted the darkness.

“It’s a name—title, really—for demons who worm their way inside a human host.” I scanned the shifting shadows, searching for the devil, but his voice echoed from every direction and none at the same time. “They’re known for being more powerful than any demon. When they possess a human, the demonic energy slowly rots the witch’s body until—”

“Enough,” he hissed before me; his teeth clacked behind me. “I did not want a textbook response, Dorian.”

I spun only to find darkness. Clawed fingertips tickled my forearm. Trembling, I ignored it. He sought to goad me, toy with me. If he planned on killing me, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of enjoying my fear. Footsteps approached from the shadows, and I closed my eyes.

“I’m not playing your games.”

“No games.” A deep, hollow voice spoke. No whispers, no echoes, no trace of Jamie’s lighter pitch. “How about a proper introduction?”

I opened my eyes to find an older man, perhaps in his mid-forties, dressed in a beige frock coat, cream trousers loose around his thighs and tight at the knee to his ankles where his dress shoes held a bit of polished sheen to be distinguished from the tar floor. He had short salt and peppered hair with a matching finely trimmed beard. His blue eyes were striking in this bleak world of his creation.

“My first host, one of many,” he said. “But a personal favorite over the centuries.”

“Don’t know many devils to live through the centuries.”

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