Page 135 of The Prince of Demons

Color had returned to his cheeks. Magic had faded from his eyes, resembling a warm chocolate brown. His arm was creamy pale, no tattoos to be seen.

My dark magic had stolen his power, his energy, and his immortality.

When he smiled, it was without mirth.

“Well, seraphim, it appears you have freed us both.”

* * *

When my cabbagepatch doll started talking, Jason and Joseph ran out of the room. The door slammed and rattled the frame before the room descended in silence. But I had stayed from when the doll first moved location, winked, moved around, and finally, spoke. I’d been afraid, sure—I never thought my toys could be alive! Yet, as I moved forward—tentatively—I realized my curiosity would always overpower my fear.

“Hello?” I whispered, quietly, like I held a new secret.

“Luna!” Gaksi called.

That was the moment that I had really chosen Gaksi—and conversely, when he had chosen me.

* * *

I beatmy wings fast enough to fly away, as far and as fast as I could.

Gaksi found me in the sky.

“Looking good, Luna!” He flapped by in pigeon form.

“You traitorous liar!” I screamed into the wind. “How dare you not tell me he has a starborn?”

I spiraled higher, hoping to lose him. “How dare you keep me in the dark,grandfather?”

I spun through the clouds, impressed by how cold and wet they were. If I wasn’t so furious, I might be fascinated. Marveled. Instead, I was shaking off my wings like a wet dog when Gaksi’s demon form flew above the cloud cover with me.

“Gaksi! Someone could see you!”

“Above the clouds?” His large, red-rimmed demon eye winked. “Not likely, granddaughter dearest.”

“I am not your dearest,” I raged, wings sending furious gusts behind me. “How many of your kids have you tried to pimp off to the Reaper?”

“None.” He chuckled, large teeth cracking. “Trouble found you all on its own, moon pie. Fly any higher, and we might actually meet your namesake.”

“Don’t call me that! I’m the way I am because of you!” I shook off the condensation from the clouds.

“Aren’t all humans?” he questioned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Every human carries the scars of their past family members,” he said as if it were obvious.

My hands shook at my sides. I had to hold myself back from fist-fighting. I couldn’t believe that my family member—literally, my family member—was trying to calm me down from thousands of feet in the air. Any higher and us demons might be barred from the gates of heaven.

“Do you know how my species of goblin is created?” Gaksi prompted.

I fumed quietly but did not respond.

“Blood has to be spilled.”

At my silence, he continued. “A very long time ago, back when tigers used to smoke, a young soldier boy was dying on a battlefield. His lover, desperate, used dark magic—she was one of the first users of dark magic ever—to create a dokkeabi goblin. Me!” He threw his clawed arms up in the air.

“Soldier boy was dying, of course, so I had to jump into his head permanently to sustain him. Instead of blood, I filled his veins. With magic.” He bared his teeth. “And, of course, when they had children, it passed a piece of me onward every time. With every generation. The trauma might be different, but they always had me to cope.”

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