“The furniture?”
He nods. “And the rug.”
Still leery, I do as he instructs, scooting the couch back several feet and then the coffee table. I roll the rug back, baring the wood floor underneath. There’s already a circle burned into the floor there, and he outlines it with the chalk. He buzzes out of the room and back, carrying a stack of small round candles, which he promptly spaces out around the circle.
My eyes widen as a small flame emits from his finger. He makes his way around the circle lighting the candles one at a time. A grin paints his face, eyes glinting greedily, reflecting the orange flickers of candlelight in his otherwise dark eyes.
There’s no way he isn’t a demon.
He pats the floor beside him. “Come, come. I can help you,” he coaxes again, rubbing his hands together when he sees me dithering.
I position myself in the middle of the circle, and he swipes the paper off the coffee table and hands it to me. “All you have to do is read these words.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all,” he promises.
“I don’t know how to pronounce these,” I say looking at the foreign jumble of letters.
He waves a hand. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
“What do these even mean?”
“That’s my name.”
“This is your name?”
“Yes, but you may call me Div.”
I suck in a deep breath. Limited options. Stay with the witch. Bind myself to a demon and get out of here. The demon is annoying, but I haven’t witnessed him murder any children, at least, and besides, I’m already tainted by the daemon. The handwriting is crude, and I stumble over the words. “Divalion, Caacrinolaas, Caassimolar, Classyalabolas,Glassia-labels, Glasya Labolas, Gaylos-Lobos, I invoke your name and summon you to me.”
I jolt as the place where Div is standing is engulfed in flames that rise up around the outline of the circle, too, trapping me inside. The flames crackle, the heat wafting against my face. They dissipate as suddenly as they came on, and I feel a pressure against my shoulder. I look over to find Div seated there.
He grins. “It is done.”
When the clock saysa quarter till seven, I camp out by the door. I’m not going to miss my chance this time. They’re so quiet I don’t hear their footsteps coming down the hallway, don’t hear them at all until the plate slides under the door. “Hey! Wait!” I call out.
Nothing.
“Hello?” I call again.
Several more beats of silence pass before a timid girl’s voice rings out. “Hello.”
“Hi….um…who are you?”
“I’m Vera. I work in the kitchens.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, you’re the prince’s new wife, aren’t you? You’re a…nought?” she asks uncertainly, that last word little more than a whisper.
“Do you know the prince?”
“Yes, I know him. Or—I used to know him, at least.”
I suck in a breath. If I ask her for help, I risk her turning me into him, but…what do I really have to lose? “What do you know about him?”
“I think I should go,” she says abruptly.
