Chapter 1
You can do this, Gemma. Just like in training.”
I shift on my hooves, nervous sweat popping up in places that are only terrifying tome, not the sleeping human whose night I’m about to ruin. “Just like in training,” I repeat. “Easy peasy.”
Ralph, the demon I’ve spent months shadowing, places a large hand on my shoulder. Most of us demons are shape-shifters by nature, molding our bodies at our whim or to meet a specific demand. Our job, in particular, requires a certain ... style.
Ralph embodies it effortlessly. He’s easily ten feet tall, his body a little too lean to support his elongated bone structure. He’s bipedal and vaguely human shaped, but he’s taken his job to heart, and each limb has one joint too many. His fingers have two extra. His skull is similar to a horse’s skull, bare and white and with a long nose, and the deep pools of darkness where his eyes are radiate kindness. “Breathe, Gemma.”
The tightness in my chest says I haven’t been breathing at all for several long beats. Demons don’t technicallyneedto breathe ... I don’t think? But I do breathe, and it seems important and no one has ever told me that I shouldn’t do it, sonotbreathing fills me with panic. I suck in an inhale, choking on the air that rushes into my compressed lungs.“Sorry. I can do this. I know I can do this.” Even if all evidence points to the contrary.
Normaldemons need only about a month of training before they take off on their own, haunting their targets with ease.Normaldemons don’t go through three freaking trainers before they land on one who takes pity on them and basically holds their hand through what should be as natural as breathing.
Except, as evidenced by my constantly forgetting to do it, I’m not that great at breathing either.
“Gemma.” Ralph clasps my other shoulder, forcing me to look at him and him alone. I know he’s terrifying—I’ve seen humans literally piss themselves when he reveals himself to them—but I want nothing more than to cling to him and beg for a little more time. If I had more time, surely I’d figure out where my natural well of confidence is hiding. Surely ...
I hiccup out a sound that’s upsettingly close to a sob. “I can’t do this.”
“Gemma.” Ralph squeezes my shoulders. There’s no flesh on his hands, so his fingers poke me, but it’s comforting all the same. “You’re ready. You just have to believe it. They’rehumans. They jump at shadows, and it’s their spooky season. They’re as primed as they can be to terrorize. They even seek out the scares during this month. Beyond that, you’ve spent a lot of time perfecting your ... form.”
The slightest hesitation there. I have to clamp my jaw tight to keep a whimper inside. Even Ralph doubts me. How could he not? Every single time I’ve tried to do this, even with his guidance, I’ve messed it up. I’m a terrible demon, and an even more terrible sleep paralysis demon. Sometimes I can’t even paralyze my humans.
But I am proud of my form, even if it’s wildly different from Ralph’s. He encouraged me to put my own spin onit, and so I did. Ilikemy bubblegum-pink skin and my gorgeously curving, pale-gray horns and the bright-silver claws that tip my fingers. I made my eyes upsettingly large and just as dark as Ralph’s.
I take a deep breath, and then another. He’s worked so hard to make me as ready as possible. I can’t let him down. “I can do this?”
Ralph doesn’t seem to register that I basically just asked him instead of told him. He exhales in relief. “Yes, you can.” He turns me around, nudging me toward the portal that will lead me to my human. My victim. “Now, you’re running out of night. Go.” He unceremoniously shoves me in.
My stomach drops and my head spins—literally. I pop back into existence in a dark bedroom lit only by a streetlamp shining in the distance. My target left the window open, and a slight, chilly wind flicks the curtains, leaving the room slightly more lit and darker by turns. Changeable is good; changeable I can work with.
I take a deep breath and slouch a little, allowing the shadows to shield me from view. My human—except he’s not mine, a demon should never be possessive of a human, not when they all belong to the gods, not to us. The only beings who get to be possessive are guardian angels, and no demon takesthemseriously. I mean, sure, they’re pretty, with the wings and the holy light and all that, but they can’t actually interfere with much. They justcomfort.
That sounds a lot easier than what I’m about to do, but Ralph is counting on me not to embarrass him.
I slide soundlessly over the carpet to stand next to the bed and look down at the sleeping human sprawled out on his back. All humans are beautiful in their own way, lit within by that spark of life that burns so hotly, but this one is particularly lovely, with his freckled skin and shock of redhair that I can pick up even with so little light. I catch myself wondering what color his eyes are and force myself to focus.
First, paralysis. Can’t forget that bit.
I summon my magic, visualize a net that will prevent the human from moving but won’t stop him breathing. The point isfear, not to actually hurt him. I don’t think I could stomach actually hurting them.
Once I’m sure I have that down, I move to where he won’t be able to see me without turning his head—which he won’t be able to do—and intentionally set my hoof down loudly enough to startle him awake.
I know it works when he inhales sharply and makes a low terrified animal noise in his throat, realizing he can’t move. This is the point, the bare minimum of my job, and I have to clench my fists to keep from reaching for him, snap my jaw shut to prevent myself from telling him that he has nothing to fear. Fear is the damned point. Of course he should fear me.
Every muscle in his body looks carved from stone as he strains against my magic. I lick my lips. Wait, no. That’s not what I’m here for. Gods, my head is all turned around.
Ralph. Remember Ralph.
I plant one hand on the bed and lean down, careful to keep out of sight. It’s no effort at all to breath heavily next to his ear. I haven’t stopped the awful panic that rose with Ralph. There’s been notime.
The man on the bed—my target, my task—lets out another low moan and shakes harder. I bite my bottom lip. I’ve seen all manner of reactions while shadowing Ralph, and while this isn’t out of the norm, I can’t help a sliver of worry. Maybe I should turn him on his side?
No, no, the net works better when he’s on his back. There’s a reason for the rules. I don’t have to remember the reason in order to remember the rules.
There’s nothing surprising here. Paralyze. Build tension. Then press him tightly to the bed, sucking down his fear like the finest wine. If I’ve always found fear to be a bit sour? Well, I might be a miserable disaster, but I’m smart enough to keep that to myself.
I can smell it now, the faint thread of pure terror. It should make me happy. This is what I came here for. Instead, guilt pricks my chest. He was sleeping so soundly, and I’ve ruined it. Even if he falls asleep again once I leave, the night will be tainted by my presence.
