Page 20 of Soul of a Witch

For now, I didn’t dare to leave the room. The demon had said I would be safe here until his return. But I couldn’t guess when he would be back, and my stomach was rumbling with hunger.

If the demon wanted to kill me, he could have done so last night. Although I didn’t trust him, I was certain he didn’t intend to cause me harm. He seemed moreplayfulthan violent. As ridiculous as it sounded, he reminded me of a massive dog who didn’t know his own strength. Desperate to play, longing for affection, too excited to sit still.

“You’re losing it, Ev.” I said as I pulled back the curtains from the windows. The gray, watery day greeted me, and looked down upon a large garden, surrounded by hedges and filled with flowering plants.

It was ridiculous to think of the demon as anything other than what he was: a preternatural predator who would gladly claim my soul and bind me to him for eternity. But I couldn’t forget the way he’d looked at me. Wild with need, with desperation, with…longing? How he’d trembled when I touched him, a powerful monster quivering like a lamb just from a brush of my fingers. It gave me a strange feeling in my stomach; warm and nervous, but not unpleasant.

I had to be cautious.

With the issue of clothing solved, I turned my attention to figuring out how to get food. There was a bag of old almonds in the bottom of my purse, and after a few cautious sips, I determined the water from the bathroom tap was clean enough to drink. What I really wanted was a mimosa, and a big omelet full of cheese and veggies, but stale nuts and cold water would have to do.

When I returned to the bedroom, something had changed. There on the low table, next to the covered silver platter, was a goblet…full of orange juice? Frowning, I picked up the glass and sniffed it, shocked to find it was cold.

“No way…” Slowly, I took a miniscule sip. “Oh my god.”

It was a mimosa. A fresh, bubbling, sweet-and-sourmimosa.Disbelieved, I turned my attention to the elegant silver lid on the platter and realized a tiny stream of steam was seeping from beneath it. Grasping the handle, I lifted it away to reveal a hot omelet, smothered in cheese and stuffed with vegetables, alongside two sausages and a bowl of fresh fruit.

For a moment, all I could do was stare. Then I laughed, although I couldn’t be sure if this was truly funny, or if my brain was simply cracking. I’d never witnessed magic that could make food spontaneously appear based simply on one’s thoughts.

It was delicious too. Perfectly seasoned, the vegetables buttery and crisp, the eggs soft and creamy. The fruit was so sweet it was like candy, and when I drained my glass, I watched it fill again before my eyes.

Okay, yeah, screw going home.

The champagne eased my nerves, and I settled more comfortably into the cushioned chair near the fire. There was no clock in the bedroom, so I couldn’t be sure what time it was, but I guessed it was early evening by the changing light.

Surely, the demon would return soon.

Suddenly, there came a sound right outside the door. My back went stiff as the knob slowly turned. Just in case one of those nasty wraiths had figured out how to properly open a door, I grabbed the poker from beside the fireplace and held it aloft, prepared to strike if necessary.

The door swung open, and my shoulders slumped to see Callum standing there. But I quickly stiffened again, when I realized he was still shirtless and his trousers were unbuttoned.

Why the hell was he standing in the doorway half-naked, holding a tray with a large teapot and two small cups?

“How sweet of you to anticipate my return,” he said with a smile that looked rather wistful. It was impossible to tell where exactly his black eyes were looking, but I couldfeelhis gaze when it slid over me. Caressing my skin like curious hands.

I lowered the poker and put it away. The demon clicked his tongue in disappointment, but a playful smile remained on his face.

“I enjoy a good beating as much as any other sadist,” he said, which was a thoroughly bizarre way to start a conversation. He meandered into the room, carrying the tray. “But I assure you, when it comes to matters of self-defense, your magic will serve you far better than a stick. You are no mere mortal.” His expression turned serious. “Why don’t you use your magic?”

“Why do you care that I don’t?” I shot back.

He stalked closer, his movements too quick and too fluid to appear human. I didn’t back away as he bent at the waist and set the tray on the table between us. It was incredibly difficult not to stare at his splayed-open trousers, the thatch of dark hair beneath, and the monstrous bulge contained beneath the cloth.

“Why would a wolf choose not to bite?” he mused, straightening up and clasping his clawed hands behind his back. “Perhaps someone has convinced the wolf that she has no teeth.”

“I don’t like riddles,” I said, and he chuckled.

He took a seat in the opposite chair, crossing his legs and stroking his thumb along his jaw as he observed me. “What do you know about demons? Your father commands one. Do you know how he does it?”

Stammering as I tried to understand how this demon knew anything about my father, let alone about Leon, I said, “He uses a sigil — the demon’s true name. It’s written in a grimoire. That’s how the demon can be summoned and commanded.”

Callum nodded. Leaning forward, he took the cups and saucers off the tray and set one in front of me and one in front of himself. As he poured the tea, he said, “Exactly right. Demons have two names. The one we call ourselves, and the one that cannot be spoken, save in very ancient tongues. Our sigil. Every demon knows that if a witch ever finds their sigil, they’re doomed to a life of continuous summoning and enslavement. At least until we grow strong enough to resist. Sugar?”

He held up the little sugar bowl, tiny tongs clasped in his hand. Was I still dreaming?

I nodded, and he dropped a single sugar cube into my cup, then dumped five into his own, followed by a generous pour of cream. “A sigil gives one incredible power over the demon it belongs to. A witch like you could make me dance naked in the lake if you so wished. Command me to slaughter thousands. Make me steal from the rich and powerful.” He stirred the tea and took a small sip. The delicate cup and saucer looked ridiculous in his massive hands. “Tell me, Everly. Use your imagination. If you had my sigil, what would you command me to do?”

This seemed like a trap, but I couldn’t see a way out. I stuttered for several moments, uncertain how I should respond until finally, I threw caution to the wind.

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