Page 12 of A Date With Demons

The fragile little Portia is tucked against Bragg’s chest, his one arm supporting her like a babe. She seems limp and unresponsive ever since collapsing after seeing us switch intohuman form. Even with the mild sedation that Bragg applied, she still could not handle it.

“Is she dead?” I ask.

Bragg chuckles and smooths a lock of her shiny hair. “You are as precious as a puppy dog. Don’t worry; our friend here is very alive. I just helped her relax.”

“So what do we do now? Someone will have heard her screaming. They will come for her any minute now,” I say.

Bragg goes to the window, the little witch still snug against him. Jealousy stirs in my chest, and I tamp it down.

He peers out the window and says, “Rewd. Do you hear that?”

I stick my head out the window, my horns catching on the frame. “Argghh. Dammit,” I curse under my breath; this world is not built for me in any form. And then, I hear it.

Loud screams emanate from the neighboring house down the hill. Across an open field, the sounds of demonic laughter peal out. A replica colonial village lies beyond the clearing. A line of children dressed in costume makes its way from building to building, collecting candy from witches in period costumes.

I think I understand. On Halloween, there’s nothing to distinguish who is screaming for help.

Tonight of all nights.

What a curious place this is.

Chapter

Seven

Portia

The room isdark when I wake with a gasp.

Sitting up on the bed, I clutch my chest as my heart kicks in my chest.

What time is it?

Did I miss the trick-or-treating? Oh god, did I miss the party?

I click on my bedside lamp, and I can finally see. Two men stand at the end of the bed. I jump and let out a little shriek, still clutching my heart.

“You guys really know how to make an entrance. And a re-entrance.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” says the slightly smaller one.

“I do not think she meant it as a compliment,” says the bigger one, completely deadpan.

I try to control the shivering.

The scales, hooves, and tails are all gone, but the demon energy vibrates through the air.

“What’s that they say? Careful what you wish for, because it might come true?” the first one says.

The bigger one grunts.

“I must have screwed up the spell somehow,” I croak, gripping the blanket that someone has evidently draped over me while I was out.

“It’s pretty straightforward. You certainly didn’t screw up anything. You ordered a succubus; you got one.”

“But there’s two of you,” I say, still incredulous.

“Look at it this way,” the first one says. “You got two for the price of one.”