Page 456 of Evil Hearts

“Your magic is so different from ours,” the Mayor marvels.

“And to think, he never attended the Maelstrom school,” I reply, a little in awe.

“Where has this thing been spotted?” Pardus asks. “I can go sniff it out — literally.” He points to his feline nose.

The Mayor points to a copse of trees not far from the house; between them, I can see ice glittering on a lake. “The ones who lost their magic live in this area … lived. They left when they realized they were of no help to the Isfolk. Hence why a home is readily available for you all. I can only surmise it’s around heresomewhere.” He turns towards the demons, shutting me out. “If you succeed, we will give you whatever you want, as long as it doesn’t break our code to protect the Earth.”

Lyone grins, fangs flashing in the sunlight. Against the snow, the coal of his skin looks like onyx black. “Oh, don’t worry. What we want is personal, old man.”

I can’t tell if I’m happy or sad. If they get what they want, to become full demons, they won’t need me. I can leave. But if I leave … where do I go? Back to Maelstrom, where they will brand me a traitor? And if not, I will be doomed to a life of bureaucracy. Or do I go to the human countries, away from Monstrato, where I will be an outsider?

All of a sudden, them getting their wish seems like the worst possible thing.

I try to recall when the Isfolk stopped a demonic transformation with the ice. If they can do that for Lyone at least, it buys the others time. It buys me time. But it also leaves me short a helper for my magic. Working with Lyone is distracting, but he’s a great witch.

Dammit, none of these scenarios are particularly comforting or encouraging.

“There are clothes in the house; I assume magic can make those be resized as well?” The Mayor looks wary as he says it. “Anything you need, you need only ask.”

With that, he is gone in a puff of white smoke, like dry ice. Pardus coughs as he accidentally inhales it.

“Creepy,” Corel comments.

“Says the demonic elf,” I can’t help but quip. “The Isfolk can travel through snow as long as it’s unbroken. It’s not even real teleportation.”

Lyone opens the door to the house and we all file inside. Now this, an abandoned home because the owners’ magic was stolen,is creepy. Even their clothes are here. As if they up and left with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Or died.

“Are we sure he said they left?” Lyone asks, apparently on the same train of thought I am.

“Probably ran, scared and ashamed without their magic,” Pardus says, picking up a picture frame of an older couple with a young boy. He places it facedown, as if he doesn’t want to look at them.

Corel clucks his tongue in the threshold of another room. “One bedroom?”

“And this suddenly turned into a bad fan fiction story,” I mutter.

“I’d rather not even have to stay overnight,” Lyone says. He cocks his head to the door. “Mr. Mayor seemed awfully sure we would need to. Let’s find this thing, get our demonic transformation frozen, and get back home.”

“Wait,” I say. “You realize they may need to solidly freeze you all, right? Or at least you.” I gesture to Lyone. “Do you think I will go out of my way to find a way to turn you into full demons and have them set you free?”

Lyone grins, but there’s malice in his silver eyes. His demon form is impressive, but also a bit unnerving. It’s not the fangs or the horns. It’s that he could be human. And yet, the monstrous body and visage say otherwise.

I think of human creations like Slenderman and Pyramid head. So human … yet so clearly not. Yet their fictional creatures aren’t half as deadly as the three real monsters who hold my fate in their claws.

He leans in close to me, and his natural cedar scent can is barely noticeable under the sharp tang of sulfur wafting off of him.

“Little witch, you can deny it if you’d like, but you’re bound to us. Not in a magical sense, but somewhere in your heart … yoursoul … your cunt … you’re ours. And even frozen, you will do as we have commanded.” His deep voice is like gravel, yet somehow musical.

Goosebumps appear on my arms and I want to run away.

Because in some way, I fear he’s right.

“Silly little witch,” Corel croons. “As if we’d let her go even if we were frozen in time.” He touches the back of my neck and my whole body is on fire and full of fear at the same time. “I think we should go look for the creature, but I’d also like to have a little fun. It’s not often I get to test my powers on ice.”

Ice? I can’t imagine what he’s going to do with fucking ice. I can’t protest, however, as Pardus grabs me by the scruff of the neck like I’m a wayward kitten.

The blanket charm is still on me, and a good thing as we walk into the snow-covered woods, boots (and Pardus’ paws) crunching with each step. It’s quiet in here, and a pocket of icy, windy air. It feels like we are in another time and place, and I can tell the men feel it as strong as I do. Their hushed tones as they comment on the trees, the snow, the air itself, tell me that much.

This is a place of sacred magic.

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