Page 47 of A Study of Blood and Ichor

“Which of the archdemons did the witches summon?”

“Sohlum, Vencula, and Ghen.”

My blood stilled at the names of all three of them, but most of all Ghen’s. His name was like a barb in my chest, and it took everything I had in me to claw it out before attempting to regain my composure.

“So, you’ve heard of them,” Vain said.

I threw every bit of heated contempt I could into my glare, hoping it would be enough to sear right through him. “Of course I have.” I’m a demonologist for fuck’s sake. But I didn’t say that part out loud.

I knew them all by name, as did all witches. They were no secret to us. The six archdemons were brutal legends. Dark gods, all of them the only direct sons and daughters of their queen mother, Lilith. Out of the three that Vain mentioned though, I was the least familiar with Vencula, but that was only because there were very few written accounts of him and his conquests. It was almost as if he’d been left out of their history entirely. Vanished or forgotten to time. No one knew. And so long as he never appeared or made himself known on our side of the rifts, no one cared.

“So, what happened?” I asked.

“The mortals asked for power, which of course the archdemons were willing to offer in exchange for something of value. One of them gave up their ability to feel any emotions, one became a demon’s familiar, and the other gave up their soul. In exchange, the archdemons offered them their ichor, and when the mortals drank the demon blood, they were given power in return.”

I furrowed my brow. “Demon ichor turns mortals into vampyrs though,” I said.

“The ichor of higher and lesser demons can if consumed in excess, yes,” he confirmed. “Their ichor only offers a minimal amount of power, and at a high risk. But an archdemon’s ichor is pure power. It is the stuff of gods. The first witches were very powerful, but it seems that through the generations, your powers have become diluted.”

I said nothing after that. It’s not that I didn’t believe him. Quite the opposite, actually. I could sense no tricks or lies in his words. Vain spoke so directly, that the truth coming from the mouth of a demon came as something of a shock.

Even remembering the look on Lena’s face when she learned I had discovered the truth, and to realize that I had been misguided my entire life…it was a hard pill to swallow.

Vain ran a hand through Rory’s hair, brushing the longer strands out of his face. “Our blood runs through your veins, witch. Whether you prefer to admit it or not. We made your kind what you are.”

“That’s it then?” I asked. “The whole truth?”

Vain nodded. “It is.”

I snatched up another book off the desk and flipped open to a random page to absorb myself in the text.

“So does this mean you’re done with me for now then?”

“I’m sure you can find your own way out,” I snapped, not bothering to look up.

The demon hummed and rose from his chair.

“Before I leave, I thought I’d make you aware that your wards, while unnecessary, were a little worse for wear, so I took the liberty of…fixing them for you. Hope you don’t mind.”

And without another word, Vain slid out of the room, leaving me agape until the sounds of his footsteps faded away entirely.

I tore out of his study and ran back to my room. Being tucked away with my head in his books for the better part of the day, I hadn’t noticed when the sun had set. The skyline was painted in brilliant red and warm orange, the fiery kind of hue that matched the ire burning in my chest.

Flinging open my door, I looked instantly to the wards I’d placed down the night before. The ones at the threshold of the doorframe had been all but wiped away, and the rest had deteriorated to nothing but dust, leaving the space wide open and vulnerable for any demon to walk through at their leisure. And the demon I’d least wanted to most of all had seemed to have done just that.

Two black boxes tied prettily with silver ribbon sat at the end of the bed. A small red card sat atop them, but I ignored it and went straight for the larger box first. I tugged the ribbon and then shimmied the lid off, my breath catching when I pulled out a scandalous black satin dress with a draped neckline, delicate thin straps, and a slit in the hem that rode up the thigh. Tossing the dress aside, I tore into the smaller box which revealed a set of Louboutin heels to accompany the ensemble. I tried not to dwell on the fact that each item had been picked for my exact measurements.

Bastard!

I cursed at myself under my breath for forgetting to strengthen the wards this morning. With a shaky exhale, I reached for the card and turned it over between my fingers.

Mellilla,

10 p.m. Be ready.

Your favorite demon,

Vain

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