Page 27 of Immortal Throne

“Draw the blade over your palm. You need at least ten drops or so.” Chupey bent to scratch at a spot near the scruff of his neck.

“Just, like, right here?”

Chupey paused his scratching. “Like, totally.”

I pushed aside my irritation. This was it. No going back. I might not believe entirely about this whole demon stuff, but I had to take the next step forward.

I fully planned to go to Hell one way or another.

Holding an overheated breath in my lungs for five seconds, ten, I ran the tip of the knife through my skin until it bit deep.

“What’s the sigil?”

“Same as the symbol and seal of the damned,” he said.

“Like my scar?”

“Exactly.”

Chupey then told me the words to repeat for the incantation and my lips parted but nothing came out of my mouth.

Licking my lips, I tried again, repeating the words and drawing the symbol on the floor while my demon dog licked his balls beside me.

Chupey stopped mid-lick and settled his black gaze on me. “You need to pour your magic into it.”

“How?”

He cocked his head. “I don’t know. It’s something that comes naturally to demons. Try pulling some feelings out.” He went back to cleaning himself.

“I should’ve had you fixed,” I muttered. Irritation flashed through me, remembering everything I’d been through today. Chupey was such a shit.

The sigil might not be the prettiest but at least it looked decent. I’d bled for it. I kept repeating the words, closing my eyes and trying to reach deep inside myself for the demon magic supposedly inside me.

If Chupey thought I could do this, then I had no choice but to actually do it.

I closed my bleeding hand into a fist against the sharp sting of pain from my cut. “Why isn’t it working?” I said through gritted teeth.

Magic began to spark and fizzle from the sigil I’d drawn on the floor. Huh. Anger? Was anger the right fuel? Well then, no problem, because I had plenty to be pissed about.

I turned up the heat on my glare a notch as I stared down at the floor imagining Ryker’s face and channeling every shitty thing that had happened to me. Lack of a father figure, Mom dying, my own diagnosis, my poverty. The angrier I felt, the larger the halo of magic grew until it was large enough for a man—or in this case, a badass bitch—to step through.

The edges of the portal glowed in shades of blue and gold with the center shimmering and solid.

Chupey trotted over to my side on those long legs. “Let’s do this.”

It wasn’t until we stepped through the portal that I remembered Becca coming over later with food, a shoulder to cry on, and gossip about her new lover.

Oops.

If she actually showed, she was going to be pissed to find my place empty.

The magic swept over my shoulders like a warm blanket. Growing warmer by the second, I thought, the magic spitting us out into a room made of black stone.

Chupey panted. When he looked up at me, he froze. “Huh, red.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your hair.”

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