Page 1 of Blackmailed By the Incubus

CHAPTER ONE SERAPHINE

THE DEVIL HOLDS MYsoul.

I boxed it up with satin ribbons and handed it to him on my sixteenth birthday over a wilted cupcake. It had seemed so noble, a gesture of selfless love to protect the man I love with my whole heart.

Nine years later, the decision remains a necessary one, but the rules of my role evolve a little more each night. His demands ... his hunger has become insatiable and it’s stirring things in me I can’t ignore.

“Did you hear me?”

I blink my attention away from the filthy framed painting of a field of sunflowers to settle on the gaunt figure glowering up at me with watery, blood shot eyes. Irritation floats in the gray pools, reflecting the restless rapping of chipped nails on scuffed plastic coating the table.

“Yes, Mama,” I assure her, although I hadn’t.

I can’t focus on anything, except the drop of every second I’m standing in the heavy smog of sandalwood and heroin and not already on my way to fulfill my obligations to a demon.

Mama Bloom huffs the dry snort of a coke addict and carves her jagged nails into the track marks dotting her inner elbow.

She hadn’t always been this way. There was once a time she appeared unfathomable. A force of rage. Every year, like my demon, her appetite for sustenance has deformed into self-destruction.

“I put you in charge of the booth because I’ve been too busy, but you’re running it into the ground. What am I supposed to do with this?”

The cling and clatter of loose coins striking the cluttered table amplify in the cramped space of the cabin, deafening as they spin and roll.

It’s not all the pay for the night. I learned years ago not to trust Mama with everything and expect her to be a responsible adult. Her addiction will always win, and we will always lose. If Aiden and I are to eat for the week, to have enough money saved for our own trailer, to pay our fees, I need to be smart. I need to skim just enough each night to handle all the important things while not arousing suspicion from the husk of a woman sitting before me, wasting precious time.

“It’s been slow,” I lie.

Mama scoffs and rocks her bony backside into the worn leather of the bench that pulls out into my bed. Ashes dust my comforter and there’s a new singe mark in the threadbare fabric. I try not to show my irritation. Or glance at the clock over the small mountain of dishes in the sink.

“You’re a filthy liar. You ungrateful bitch.” Tarnished chunks of sapphires, rubies, and emeralds glint in the feeble light as the skeletal hand sweeps under a sharp nose. “I never should have kept you or that useless brother of yours. You both just want to see me suffer after everything I’ve done for you.”

Mentions of Aiden have my feet shifting against the sticky linoleum. My gaze inadvertently darts to the clock.

“Am I keeping you? Do you ... do you have something better to do?” Dishes rattle under the fierce slam of Mama’s fistdown on the table. “Have I become an inconvenience to you, Seraphine?”

I’m not quick enough to dodge the mug hurled at my head. It falls short and clips my right shoulder. The pain is overshadowed by surprise as cold tea explodes down my arm, soaking my sleeve. The ceramic shatters into a million pieces across the trailer floor and I know I’m about to break my promise to a demon.

“After everything ... I took you when no one else wanted you. I ... I let you stay...” She makes as though she’s about to slide out of the booth but can’t. Instead, she grabs her lighter and blackened spoon. “Get out, you bitch. You stupid...”

I leave the mess and the woman flicking the lighter with shaky fingers and hurry out into the sweet, clean scent of pine and freedom.

The night hums with the residual laughter of things that aren’t there. Their haunting giggles terrified me as a child. They would send me scurrying under the blankets and it was only Aiden’s gentle coaxing that would lure me out. Then Warrick slinked into our lives and took away the boy who would keep me safe from the world and left me alone in the dark.

I turn my attention to the carnival lights flickering like dying stars against the heavy black sky. Canopies of red and white rustle in the dusk, the sails on an ever-drifting ship.

I suppose that’s the best way to understand the carnival. It arrives with the wind and leaves just as silently. There are never any flyers, no warning. We don’t ask for permission from the locals and are gone before anyone can even think to complain. We give them a glimpse of the impossible before vanishing forever, becoming nothing more than a faint memory.

Even now with the last of the humans gone and tucked away in their homes, I stand surrounded by the shimmering façade.The scent of sugar and something darker clings to the air, heavy with the scent of fear and forgotten promises.

But it’s my home. The only sanctuary I’ve ever known. The only place Aiden could exist safely. Because of him the carnival calls to me. It pulls me in.

I teeter on the edges of it all, my fingers fisted at my sides as if it could shield me from what’s lurking in the shadows, waiting for me to stumble into its clutches. Even now, the weight of his existence pulls the air from my lungs. It beckons me to him. To his hunger.

In the distance, the Ferris wheel spins, its rusted skeleton creaking with every dip and rise. The empty seats swing. Its lights spill across the big top looming at the heart of everything and the ticket booth nestled near its feet.

The carnival never sleeps. Even absent of guests, even with the entire crew tucked away in their beds, the rides continue to run. Bags of warm, buttery popcorn sit on the shelf. The music is endless through the night. It’s a place that welcomes the odd and reckless.

The dangerous.

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