Page 57 of Corrupt Shadows
The street is lined with small, ranch-style homes. Pumpkins adorn the stairs toward the front doors, while plastic skeletons and fake cobwebs decorate the trees by most of the houses on the street.
The breeze swirls toward me, blowing bits of ash into my face, sparking my irritation. I wander into the yard, keeping a close track of the demon’s movements through a mirror attached to a garden ornament. Solomor wastes no time and trudges up the steps to a pastel-pink home with black trim and shutters.
He knocks delicately with his feminine human hand, and a poorly dressed boy opens the door. Solomor, in his female human meat suit, follows the boy inside.
I stride to the front door, taking in the plaque screwed to the exterior.
Embracing your emotional and mental sexual needs through therapy.
Dr. Rosa Gonzales
Son of a bitch, I know exactly who this therapist is. Today of all days, I have to deal with the fucking best friend? Of course the walking rainbow is a fucking sex shrink.
I enter the home within the Shadow Realm. The entryway is what must be the waiting room, with only a single chair and a tiny desk next to a closed door. A small fish tank sits on a built-in shelf to the left of the door. There are no fish in the tank on this side of the veil, only murky water and moldy aquarium rocks. However, I spot a surprisingly tasteful silver-framed mirror above the wall where the patients sit until their appointment time. I face the mirror and put my hands in my pockets to wait along with Solomor. Boredom sets in immediately, and I hate the demon more with every passing second.
I roll my head on my shoulders and push my chin to either side, cracking it. After what feels like an eternity, the view in the mirror changes as an assistant or secretary stands and enters the office, then comes out a moment later and holds the door open.
“Stephanie May, the doctor will see you now.”
Solomor uses the woman’s face to give his best people-pleasing smile and sashays into the office. I walk along his imprint in my realm, the buzz from the proximity to him making my skin itch. My eyes widen as I take in the most detailed and colorful painting of a cock I have ever seen. I lean over a mosaic-framed mirror and stare through.
Solomor smiles nervously and stands in the middle of the room, fingering the hem of his dress.
“Welcome,” Evie’s friend says in a professional but peppy voice. The doctor turns to her desk, grabs a tissue, and noisily blows her nose before shoving it in the pocket of her fuchsia blazer. Lovely.
“I’m Dr. Gonzalez, but you can call me Rosa,” she says, gesturing toward the plush black-leather sofa opposite the desk, as she takes a seat in a purple wingback chair.
Solomor’s brows pinch together, his gaze skating quickly around the room. Normally I would not tolerate this level of immersion into a human’s life, but Solomor is not acting like a normal demon. No, someone is pulling his strings, making him dance like a puppet while they slither behind the scenes.
I blow out a breath sharply from my nostrils. Rosa and Solomor go through the bullshit introductions, and he has an answer for every one of her dull questions, all of them pure fabrication.
I glance at the small silver clock on the desk, squinting to see the time. The hands have only moved fifteen minutes past the hour. That leaves forty-five minutes of torture left in this session. I let out a long sigh when I realize something; the hands on the clock are shaped like mini dicks. This woman has a fucking problem.
“So, Stephanie, what brings you here today?” She pulls out a leather portfolio and flips it open to a rainbow notepad.
Something shifts in the air, like the baby witch imbued the space with magic unintentionally. I raise my brow. I wonder if she has been practicing unaware her entire life. The magic glows beneath her skin, just as Evie’s darkness does, but it is not even close to as powerful or inviting. My shadows coil within me, ready to strike at a moment’s notice, as if her essence is too pure and bright and therefore not to be trusted.
Solomor talks, his voice coming out as a soft-spoken woman’s. “I… This is going to sound crazy, but I’ve been having these dreams.”
“Okay, what kind of dreams?”
“Um, s-sexual ones?”
Dr. Rainbow smiles. “What happens in these dreams?”
“Well, I dream about a masked demon stalking me through mirrors.” Solomor holds up both of Stephanie’s hands in a stop gesture. “I know. I told you I sound like a crazy person, but it’s true!” he pleads, the delicate wrinkles around his skin suit’s eyes deepening. “He comes to me every night.”
The pen falls out of the doctor’s hand and bounces soundlessly on the plush carpet, and her eyes widen. “Oh, right.” She clears her throat, quickly shaking her head. “I apologize, yes. It’s perfectly normal to have these kinds of dreams,” she says, but her lip twitches. She reaches down to pick up her pen, and her fingers dance around on the carpet a few times before she finds it and sits up. She poises the tip of her pen on the colorful paper and leans forward. “And what does the demon do in these dreams?”
“You believe me?” Solomor asks, the woman’s mouth falling open.
“Yes. I can see this is very troubling for you, and I can understand how this would be upsetting.”
I had no idea Solomor was such a good actor. I press my fingers against the wall, digging my nails to the wallpaper. He leans forward. If only Rosa could see what lurks beneath the facade of the “sweet,” middle-aged woman. “I think I am going insane. I’m certain of it.” He tugs on Stephanie’s hair. “I’m convinced it’s real, and I think he’s stalking me in real life. Have you ever heard anything so crazy?”
Rosa places her hand on Solomor’s grip of Stephanie’s hair, then sighs. The corners of her eyes crinkle, and I watch as she crumbles, falling for the act. “You’re not crazy. Y-you’re not the only one I’ve heard of this happening to.”
His eyes instantly lock onto Rosa’s. “You have? Who?”