Page 11 of Accidentally Summoned an Incubus

The main bathroom was at the other end of the landing, nestled between the two smallest rooms. While this bathroom was decidedly less garish, with a white cast-iron bath and mosaic floor tiles, the avocado one would do me just fine.

When I finally cleared enough clutter off the kitchen table to make space for my notebook, a little candle on a black, cast-iron holder appeared beside me, as did a chewed-up ballpoint pen.

“Thank you,” I said to the house, and the flame flickered merrily in response. I began the arduous task of writing down every minute interaction with Chad that had led up to the incident of the hex. It was slow and laborious, and my wrist ached by the time I finally set the pen down. Five pages. That was all I’d managed in two effing hours.

I rubbed my wrist and straightened in the chair, feeling an ache in my lower back. Stretching, cringing at the series of pops in my back, I decided to sit down on the plush couch with theintention of watching Netflix on my phone as there was no TV in this house.

The cuckoo clock read 11:55 p.m. as I made my way into the living room. I wondered how many witches would be doing the summoning this evening. It had always been exciting over the few days after Samhain to look out for new faces in the coven.

As I settled into the couch, I let out an involuntary moan. It might have been scruffy and threadbare in some places, but it had to be singularly the most comfortable couch I’d ever sat on.

“I bet you’ve seen your fair share of summonings,” I said to the house.

In answer, the fire roared in the hearth, and a large, black cauldron with a crack on the rim appeared out of thin air.

“I will not be summoning a sex demon tonight,” I said, a finality to my tone.

In response, a stream of warm water squirted out of the cauldron, landing directly on my chest.

“What was that for?” I said, jumping to my feet and rubbing my chest furiously. The cauldron squirted at me again, but I managed to avoid it. “Oh, ha ha,” I said sarcastically. “Nice euphemism, House.”

The herbs drying from the ceiling rafters rustled, and a small rose quartz appeared on the mantelpiece. The sneaky house! It was trying none too subtly to convince me to do the ritual. All it would take would be to drop my favorite herbs and spices, along with the rose quartz, into the cauldron as the clock struck midnight.

“No,” I said sternly to the house. “Back off.”

Thehouse seemed to sigh. Whether through disappointment or guilt at trying to pressure me, I couldn’t tell.

I chose to believe the latter, for a moment later, the cauldron had disappeared, and the kettle whistled from the kitchen.

“Apology tea?” I asked, and the whistle became louder.

I crossed into the kitchen and ran my hands over the cups hanging under the cupboard. My fingers clasped around a pretty little china teacup with a chip in the rim. I placed it in front of the kettle, and the cupboard door above me swung open. My grandma’s idea of supplies was an entire cupboard dedicated to tea. Unsurprising, as it was a witch’s favorite brew.

My nailsclinked on the glass as I ran my fingers over the jars, checking the cardboard tags for the contents. I really should have gone for a lavender and chamomile based one to help induce sleep—Goddess knew I would need the rest if I was ever going to finish the notebook. Instead, I settled on my favorite tea, a blend of cinnamon, cloves, and orange rind. I tipped a healthy measure into the tea strainer and poured the hot water over it. The spices filled my nostrils, and a deep feeling of home settled into my bones.

“Thank you,” I said to the house as I made my way back into the living room. I took a deep swig of the tea before setting it down on the side table and pulled out my phone, making quick work of searching for the Netflix app.

The midnight bell tolled from somewhere deep in the heart of the village, matched by the trill of the cuckoo clock in the kitchen. Smiling, and settled, I reached out to grab my cup of tea, but my fingers were met with empty air. I glanced down at the side table, confused. The cup of tea wasn’t there.

Flicking my eyes over the room, I finally spied it on the stonehearth. The rose quartz glinted mischievously above it, and my stomach dropped.

“Oh no you don’t!” I warned the house, standing up and holding a cautionary hand out. I was taking a step forward when a number of things happened simultaneously and in painfully slow motion.

Acrackechoed from one of the shelves, and a glass jar full of marbles that I hadn’t noticed before broke open, the balls of glass clattering to the floor and spreading in all directions. I couldn’t seem to stop my already descending foot from standing on a concentrated pool of said marbles before I was cartoon-like stumbling toward the fireplace, automatically reaching out for the mantelpiece to steady myself. I managed to grasp hold of the soot-stained oak, saving my face from connecting with the wall, but inadvertently shook it, causing the rose quartz to teeter. I managed to reach out, just as the quartz began its descent toward my cup of tea—tea made from my favorite blend of herbs—but it was too late. The quartz slipped through my fingers and landed with a softplop.

Shadows erupted from the cup, coiling around me before pooling on the couch.

“What have you done?” I hissed at the house as the finalcoodied from the clock in the kitchen.

I turned to glare at the shadow smoke that was clearing from the form on the couch. The outline of heavy, black shadow wings, one slightly crooked, was the last to disappear and—

Wow.

I mean, I knew sex demons were all devastatingly beautiful. But this one, he looked asif he’d been crafted from my wildest dreams.

His dark hair was long on top and cropped at the sides, revealing a thick scar that ran across his temple and toward the base of his skull. His face was chiseled, and he dressed surprisingly casually for a demon whose sole purpose was seduction.

His angular jaw was clean shaven, and something in his thick neck pulsed as he turned his violet eyes toward me.

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