Page 81 of Corrupt Shadows

I miss home, Gomez, and Rosa. I shake my head, refusing to let everything overwhelm me, and instead happily dissociate while staring at the lines of grimoires from my ancestors.

After a few seconds, I snap out of my trance and grab the grimoire lined with purple roses on the spine, embedded in black leather. The book calls to me, and the moment I touch it, my shadows come to life.

There has to be something in here about creating portal mirrors. After all, it was my family who had created the one I smashed. Now that my magic is under control, or at least not threatening to burst out of me at any given moment, I can’t help but wonder how different things can be for me, back in the Human Realm.

I just need to find a way to get rid of the Order. I’m tired of running. If Edward hadn’t tortured me when my magic was just coming to the surface, none of the deaths would have happened. He forced me to suppress every ounce of my power, letting it consume my soul instead and destroy everything I love.

I hate him. When I get out of here, he’s the first I will destroy.

Slowly, I loosen the strip of black leather holding the grimoire together and unfold the cover to reveal the first pages of parchment.

Evangeline Fallenmoore.

I wonder if she’s who I’m named after. I glide my fingers along the page.

I continue reading, then realize it’s as much a journal of her ramblings as a magic guide.

The demon goes by Lorcan, but his true name is hidden. He has admitted he is one of the sons of Lucifer. The devil has seven sons, each embodying the sins that plague humanity. Lorcan is one of the seven. While he will not divulge his true name, allowing us to summon him, I have gained the monster’s trust. Since the one of lust has arrived, the magic of our coven has fractured. We walk on the edge of sanity. If we do not lock him away soon, he will bring plagues onto all witches. The destroyer of all that is good must be contained. Eloisa has been working on a mirror realm, but it is useless without a portal.

My eyes widen as I slide my finger along the scrawled handwriting. I scramble through the pages, but her musings only get more unintelligible. Lorcan is lust. The statement hits me, realization washing through me as things click into place. His weakness makes all the more sense.

I read the one line again. He has admitted he is one of the sons of Lucifer.

A chill runs down my spine, and my whole body shudders.

Then another line… I have gained the monster’s trust.

On the next page, I find a list of herbs used to ward away the demon of lust, alongside a drawing of a summoning circle.

Sage

Lavender

Rosemary

Black salt

Rue

Footsteps sound nearby and I quickly close the book, pushing it back onto the shelf. My fingers tremble as I grab my cold coffee and breathe in the rich scent. The insanity-laced ramblings from her later pages run through my mind. Every member of my family lost their mind. When I examine my growing tattoos, I can’t help but wonder when I will topple into insanity.

My eyes dart around the room, at the floating ash, and the tall black bookshelves with rolling ladders and books about demons, Hell, and all the mysteries of our realms, and I wonder if it’s already happened.

THIRTY-FOUR

Lorcan

The morning sun rises outside the window. I’ve left Evie asleep and listen to her light snores as I head down to the cigar room. I close the door behind me and walk to an ornate, small oval mirror that hangs on the wall between two plush armchairs. The frame is gilded in silver, and the likeness of a gargoyle is sculpted around the top curve of the frame. The gargoyle’s clawed hand stretches down as if holding the mirror aloft. The face of the creature doesn’t resemble any animal I have ever seen, more like a depiction of the devil that humans dreamed up. I am well aware of what Satan looks like, and it is not whatever the fuck that creature is.

The back of my mind tingles, signaling Aiden’s nearby. Right on time.

“Aiden,” I call through the bond.

A few minutes later, he strolls into the room. He takes a big bite of the burrito wrapped in foil he’s holding, then chews obnoxiously. “Report.”

“The ap—”

I hold up a hand and scowl at him. “Do not speak to me with half-masticated food in your mouth.”

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