Page 35 of A Taste of Torment
Jarron’s fingers are still curled around mine, gently guiding me through the hall. It’s surprisingly bright. I expected elaborate and shiny but dark. Jarron is from the Under World, where there is no light at all.
“Doesn’t the light bother demons?” I ask, unable to hold back my curiosity.
“Not here. There are spells in every room to keep us comfortable. This is the only place I’ve been since my magic manifested that I’ve been able to feel the sun without discomfort. As much as we Under Worlders love shadows, I’d miss the feel of the sun on my skin if I were to return home.”
“Yeah, I could see that.” Before his power manifested, Jarron was a—mostly—normal kid. While on Earth, he appeared as a human, able to play out in the sun with the rest of us.
He spent months of his life on Earth, away from the darkness of his world. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like for the sun to all the sudden feel like it was suffocating me.
“The comfort of the sun is perhaps the only luxury I’d be hard pressed to give up. Although, there is something here you may like.”
He tugs my arm, and I follow him through a corridor to the right until we come to a room with massive windows showcasing a lovely field of black flowers. A few students sit in various cushioned chairs clustered together and stop chatting as we pass.
He guides me down a narrow hall and a metal spiraling staircase, where the light darkens and the air cools, then into a dimly lit room with a rustic feel. A dim glow comes from two hanging industrial lights and a massive fireplace at the far end.
To the left is brick wall covered in shelves of jars, with different shades of liquids, and a counter, with several small cauldrons and a few machines. There are six bar top tables around the room, with dark metal chairs.
The chattering quiets as we enter, but I ignore the stares and instead pay attention to the vibe of the room. It’s like an old speakeasy, and I love it.
“You’ll like this,” he tells me, ignoring the others. He releases my hand for the first time and sets to work combining several of the liquids from the unmarked glass bottles and then pours his steaming concoction into a black metal mug.
I frown, trying to figure out what potion he’s making. Potions aren’t an uncommon leisurely indulgence for the supernatural world. Sleep potions, relaxers, hallucinogens. Any kind of desirable effect humans use drugs for, we can recreate with a potion that doesn’t come with addiction or debilitating side effects. But Jarron’s ingredients seem nonsensical. There’s no magic in any of them.
His smile is as big as I’ve seen as he hands me the cup.The smooth metal is warm against my palm.
“What is it?” I ask, cautiously taking the beverage.
“A chai latte.”
“No way.” My lips part as I examine the creamy liquid. The steam stings my nose in the most pleasant way.
“Try it,” he says smugly, crossing his arms.
The delicate mixture of cream and spices makes my mouth water but even so, I twist my lips. It puts me in a very vulnerable situation, to accept a potion from a powerful being. The gaze of the other students press in on me, though and I consider that the risk is likely worth the reward.
Very, very slowly, I lift the cup up and tilt it back. Warm frothy liquid reaches my lips, and the flavor zings through my mouth.
I gasp. It’s the most glorious thing I’ve ever tasted. “How?” I breathe.
Jarron’s smile widens, eyes alight with joy in a way I haven’t seen since we were kids. I realize, as I watch him, that I miss it. I miss him.
I hadn’t allowed myself to feel that because I was so determined to stay away; I wouldn’t allow feelings to make me weak.
The night Jarron changed, when he became a full-fledged demon—his pitch-black eyes and predator form—there was nothing left of the sweet boy I knew. I saw that truth. Felt it. And it terrified me.
So, to me, the boy I knew died, and a demon took his body. That’s how I thought about him. But now, I’m faced with the truth that I was at least partially wrong.
“Magic,” he says.
I chuckle. “How did you know how to make it?” Chai was always my favorite growing up, but he wasn’t ever a fan, so I don’t see why he’d learn the recipe.
“Trevor still drinks it sometimes.” He shrugs. “You can take it with us. There’s a lot more to see.”
Jarron takes me back down the hall and up to the brightly lit main level.
“The dorms are that way.” He points toward the bright sunroom we passed earlier. “The common rooms are all this way.”
This is so much larger than Minor Hall, despite housing less than half the number of students. “Where are you taking me now?”
