Page 4 of A Study of Blood and Ichor

“For the next few weeks, I want you to spend time with the demon and the human. I am trusting your skills have improved since the last possession you oversaw. Study them. Get whatever information you can get out of it.”

I caught myself anxiously chewing the inside of my cheek and chose to dig my nails into the soft flesh of my palms instead.

“What is it you think this demon knows?” I asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” she admitted. “But it was found in highly infested territory where we’ve been receiving substantial reports that the demons are mounting an attack. We're not sure when or where, but we need numbers to present to the Council to corroborate the movements we’ve been observing. Something is stirring within their legions and none of the covens, not even D.A.R.C., are prepared for what they may be planning. So, I want you to glean as much information as possible from our prisoner.”

“We shouldn’t wait so long to attempt an exorcism though.” Lena’s glare turned sharp, but I pressed further. “It’s cruel to leave him trapped with a demon for longer than necessary. We don’t know how long he’s been possessed for.”

“I agree, it is. But in times like these, sacrifices must be made.” She hung her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “We lost more than we expected today. And even more returned wounded.”

A part of me, the level-headed demonologist, knew Lena was right. New information could give us an upper hand in our fight against the demons. But the other, more sympathetic side of me, kept picturing Rory’s face as he locked eyes with me.

My instinct to rescue him from the vile parasite inside him was impossible to ignore. No one deserved the fate of existing with a monster capable of controlling their every thought and action.

That existence was not living. It would be torture.

Lena knew that as well as I did, though nothing I could argue would be enough to convince her otherwise. The word of a High Witch was final and absolute, no matter how harsh their orders might be. Every witch in their covens was sworn to obey.

“I am allowing you daily one-on-one interactions with them,” she continued. “And after each meeting, I want you to report back to me with the details.”

I clenched and released my fists, a steadying pulse. “I understand, Lena,” I answered, which earned me a pleased glint in her eyes.

“Good.” She sat in the plush chair behind her desk and placed her glasses on the bridge of her nose—a sign that she was about to bury herself in her work. “It’s getting late, and I’m sure you have plenty of work to finish before the evening is over. You may speak with the prisoner tomorrow once you are rested and all your other duties are fulfilled.”

My mind reeled at the thought of facing the demon again. Sure, I was used to exorcising demons for study and researching everything I could about them. But using my skills in an interrogation setting? Not so much. How was I supposed to keep my composure when those obsidian eyes only served as a constant reminder of…

“Ava?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget to keep your wits about you next time. You can’t let the demon get under your skin as easily as it did today.”

“I’m sorry,” I blurted and tucked my chin.

“Don’t be sorry. Just do better. Remember your training and why you are here in the first place.” Lena bowed her head to the papers spread across her desk and waved me away. “That is all.”

Remember why you are here in the first place.

She might as well have twisted a knife in my chest. Her choice of words had been intentional, a warning and accusation wrapped into one sharp blow.

The moment I cleared Lena’s study, my shoulders slumped forward as I loosed a shaky breath.

I already couldn’t stand the thought of losing Rory to the demon who’d latched itself onto his soul. There would be no room for failure. And the sooner I could get whatever information Lena needed out of the demon, the sooner I could save Rory. The task seemed simple enough, but I had a nagging suspicion that this demon would make sure it was nothing short of a challenge.

TWO

Rory

Inever wanted to die. Not really anyways.

Death felt imminent. Its presence was cloaked in every flickering shadow like a whispered breath in the air.

It had been weeks since I’d been in control. Or had it been longer than that? Sometimes, it felt like time passed differently with Vain. It was so hard to tell.

I felt so damn empty and cold. Being forced to the forefront was like being plunged into an ice bath or startling awake from a nightmare and not knowing how long I’d been asleep. When the witch in the blue robes first pulled me forward, the sensation had been so intense that I thought for a second I was about to be sick in front of them all.

Thank fuck that I hadn't.

---