Chapter 2
Sylvie stepped into a large office. Grey Berber carpet covered the floor while matching curtains hung over the windows. A pair of black leather armchairs sat before a cherry wood desk, and cherry bookshelves lined the walls.
Behind the desk was a woman pushing mid-forty. Her hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, and she was starting to go grey at the temples. The nameplate on the desk said this was High Priestess Skye. She sat in a high-backed chair, speaking on the phone.
Sylvie eased forward and sat in one of the chairs, waiting for the high priestess to acknowledge her.
Finally, the high priestess hung up the phone and looked towards Sylvie. They stared at each other a moment before she spoke. “You’re probably wondering why you’re here, Miss Hunter.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A knowing smile spread across her face. “You might not remember this, but I was your teacher when you were young.”
Sylvie’s eyes went wide. She remembered the woman now. Her hair had been longer then. Sylvie recalled sitting in the middle of the room, listening to Skye lecture about herbs and their various properties.
“You were a very talented student,” Skye continued. “I remembered how, when we had the summoner speak in my Charms class, they summoned that little imp. He was smitten with you, and you were the only one not afraid of it.”
Sylvie frowned across the desk at the woman. “So you called me over to deal with an imp? I’m sure you have someone else more qualified.”
“No, it’s something much . . . bigger than an imp.” Skye stood up and gestured for Sylvie to follow her.
Skye led Sylvie through the halls until they reached what looked like an observation area. There were glass panels in a dome in the middle of the room. On one side of the room were video monitors. On the other end were a cluster of computers with people standing in front of the screens, blocking them.
As Sylvie stepped towards the glass dome, Skye said nothing. A low railing stopped Sylvie from reaching the glass. Leaning over, she looked down.
Two stories down was a room. There was a twin-sized bed against one wall, and a round table with two chairs in the middle of the room. There was a three-walled square with a toilet and a sink. It looked no more significant than her bedroom in her apartment. What could they be keeping in there?
Wait, who was sitting on the bed? He was big . . . huge. His skin was tanned, and he was clad in leather from head to toe. What got her attention, besides the vast expanse of muscled chest, were the curved horns.
Sylvie turned around, looking at Skye. “A demon? You have a demon?”
“Not just any demon,” Skye replied. “A royal demon. I’m certain you can feel his energy from here?”
Now that the high priestess said something, Sylvie realised that she could. She could feel it tingling against her skin, along with the need to run—and fast. It was what she’d felt at the front steps, that feeling of dread. “How can you tell he’s royal, and what exactly do you want me to do?”
“Get him to co-operate for the most part,” Skye replied. “He hasn’t eaten anything since we brought him in. We need him to eat as well. As for how we know, we don’t for sure, but for his energy and aura. Along with the fact that he looks equally human as any of us.” Skye shrugged.
“What makes you think I’ll be able to make him do as you ask?”
“We’ve had one other Grade Three go in. He didn’t hurt her, but she wasn’t able to . . . connect with him the same way I know you can.”
“Just because of what happened when I was a kid?” Sylvie was highly doubtful about that. But this demon, locked in such a small room and starving himself—her heart went out to him. She looked down at the demon and gave a heavy sigh. “All right. Tell me what to do.”
Sylvie’s heart gave a hard thump when the demon looked up at her. It was almost like he could hear her. From her vantage point, she could see the small room that he was allowed. She could see the bathroom he had. Clearly, he wouldn’t have any privacy there. The floor looked like concrete with no rug or carpet to speak of, and it was likely freezing to bare feet. The room was barely big enough for the bed, toilet, sink, and the table. Her apartment was bigger! Shouldn’t he be allowed more space?
Her instincts were telling her that something wasn’t right here, but Sylvie kept her face blank, not wanting to give her concerns away. Somewhere else in the building, there was a concentration of energy. It was different from that below her, and stronger.
Sylvie watched him closely as he stared back at her. The bronze looking horns that framed either side of his head was a stark contrast to the white linen of the pillow. When her gaze drifted from his horns, to his face, she finally realised… He had the same golden eyes as in her vision.
~ * ~
Gareth lay there, staring up at the glass ceiling as the door opened and closed. He breathed in, and a fruity scent filled his lungs. It was delightful, sweet but subtle. It was something he’d never smelled before, it almost made his mouth water. Underneath the aroma of fruit was the scent of a female, but the aura that came from her was different from the others that had come into the room. They’d only sent in one other with a power like this. He turned his head towards the woman as she set down the tray of food. It was brown mush. They’d been trying to feed him the same garbage since he’d arrived. The plate had more colour than the food he was offered.
She turned to him and smiled. “Hello.”
Gareth didn’t answer. He could smell her fear; it was starting to overpower the sweetness. He could also hear a faint warble in that hello.
“They’re telling me you’re unwilling to eat. I’m sure it’s not all that . . . bad . . .”
That showed what she knew. Gareth’s senses were much stronger than these people, but at least they had learned not to send in their strongest anymore. They were more willing to attack him and use their magick if he didn’t co-operate. The last one knew not to try; could feel that he was the stronger one. At least the woman who kept looking down her nose at him from the windows above finally figured it out.
He slowly sat up, placed his feet on the floor, and silently stood.
~ * ~
The moment Sylvie walked into the room, she wanted to run right back out. The demon was intimidating, and he was just lying on the bed. He had to be one of the tallest people she’d ever met. His chest was broad and muscled. His arms and long legs rippled with hidden power with each moment. His white hair covered the pillow, and his golden eyes bored into her. Her heart jumped into her throat, but she had to put on a brave face. She greeted him, trying to make small talk.
Sylvie was wrong about the meal, though. “What on earth is this?” She asked herself. There was a baritone chuckle from the direction of the bed, and Sylvie looked up as the sizable man walked towards her. His step was almost predatory.
She looked at the meal before her. She picked up the plastic fork that had come with it and poked at the black thing covered in a weird grey gravy. Scraping some of the gelatinous mass off the black stuff, she realised exactly what it was. “Is . . . is that . . . ? That’s a bat.”
Sylvie looked up at the demon and nearly jumped out of her skin. When had he reached her side? His warmth against her arm caused goosebumps to spring up along her skin. He didn’t wear any scent, but he smelled clean with a twang of natural musk. “Yes, and I don’t eat bat,” he said evenly.
“No wonder you don’t want to eat,” Sylvie commented with a shake of her head. “I’ll see if I can find something else for you.” Any excuse to get away from him, and fast.
Sylvie picked up the try with the food on it and walked quickly towards the door. She could feel Gareth’s eyes blazing against her back as she left. The door opened for her, and she slipped out of the room she’d mentally nicknamed the Fishbowl. She leaned against the door once it was closed and breathed deeply.
The man that allowed her through the door was still standing there. “Did you get him to eat?”
“No.” Sylvie glared at him. “Not that I blame him. Who cooked that meal?”
“I did.” A black-haired woman snapped. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Besides the fact that it’s a whole bat?”
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t eat bat,” Sylvie explained. “He’s not an imp. In fact, I don’t think he’s a demon.” Something hadn’t felt right about being next to him. If he isn’t a demon, then what is he?
“Then what is he?” the woman asked, mirroring Sylvie’s thoughts.
“I don’t know,” Sylvie replied, running a hand through her hair. “Demons typically manifest themselves as spirits or black masses in the darkness that haunt people. They are evil spirits that can cause physical harm to those of us on the mortal plane. They possess people to obtain a physical form. I didn’t feel any malice coming from him.” Sylvie paused, looking towards the door. He was clearly not possessing anyone. “I’d never heard of a Royal Demon, until today. Didn’t know they appeared like this.”
“So he’s not that type of demon. Maybe he’s a hybrid.”
“But of what?” Sylvie frowned. “If you’re thinking of those seven-foot, red-skinned creatures, they’re still an imp; a Greater Imp.”
“He’s still a demon,” the woman argued. “He has the physical characteristics of a Royal, and the small amount of blood we’ve managed to get has a similar DNA sequence to other demons.”
That had Sylvie’s attention. “So it’s possible that he’s a breed of demon we’ve never encountered before, a type we cannot summon like the imps, nor control like the demonic spirits? Anyway he needs real food, not bat. What else do you have?” Is Skye lying? I’ve honestly never heard of royal demons before.
“They are serving burgers in the cafeteria.”
“There we go!” Sylvie exclaimed. “Get him some burgers, and I’m sure he’d eat those easier.”
~ * ~
Gareth had returned to his bed by the time the door opened again. He’d been lying there, listening to the conversation behind the door. Not many of these witches and warlocks realised that his hearing was so acute that he could hear through the glass too.
They wanted to know what he was, huh? Well, he wasn’t about to let them find out. They had been lucky to get his blood, but he wasn’t going to allow them to study him further. He’d figure out a way to escape, even if he had to take someone as hostage. Then there was his father, if Gareth couldn’t get out, he wouldn’t be left to rot. If these women could figure out how to open a portal to his world, the old sorcerer should be able to open a doorway to this one with ease.
He’d been watching the people that stared down at him, but the woman that pulled him through never showed her face again. He was also getting tired; he hadn’t slept since being brought here, unwilling to let his guard down. It would open an opportunity for them to . . . well, he wasn’t exactly sure what their end goal was, but once he got out, he’d find his people and free them. How would he escape, though? The little woman who’d shown him some kindness seemed to be his best bet. Could he kidnap her, use her to make his escape? The idea of hurting her left a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He looked towards the small woman—when had he stopped thinking her as simply female?—as she came back in and smiled at him again. “This should be a lot better.” The food she’d brought did smell much better, but that sour note was still present. Nope, he wasn’t going to eat.
Gareth sighed, stood, and walked towards her. He watched as the flight or fight reflex flashed through her eyes. She wanted to retreat, and fast. Smart woman. He looked down at the food—two brown pieces of meat, what looked like bread, and some other things he didn’t recognize. “What is this?”
“It’s called a hamburger,” the woman replied with a pleasant smile. “It’s beef. It’s a lot better than the bat.”
“I won’t eat it.” Gareth looked over the top of her head, towards the steel door.
“Why?” she asked, surprised. “I can vouch that these taste good.”
“There is something in it.” He looked up at the ceiling, his eyes bleeding black. “That’s right. I can smell whatever you’ve put into it. It doesn’t smell right!”
Gareth could see the woman’s shocked face from the corner of his eye. She looked at the hamburgers before picking up one of the patties. She grabbed the flimsy white wedge that always snapped in his fingers and cut into it. There was no pink, so they were overcooked and looked dry. She cut off a small piece and went to take a bite.
His hand gently wrapped around her wrist, making the woman stop and look up at him. “Don’t eat it. I don’t know what it is, but it might be poison.”
She stared up at him, unsure of what to say. “I don’t think they’d poison it.” She dropped the piece of meat, then he released her. “I’m Sylvie. What’s your name?”
Gareth stared down at her, surprised. “Gareth.” He was silent a moment, frowning. “Why are you so nice?”
Sylvie eased back a step, blushing. “It’s my default setting.”
“Default setting?” Gareth asked. “I know the words, not the meaning. The last . . . witch that was here spoke down to me; she thought she was better. But you are trying to speak to me as an equal.”
“As I said, it’s my default setting,” Sylvie replied, stepping away from him again, going on the defense. “I’m always kind and give people respect until they give me a reason not to.” Sylvie stared up at Gareth before looking towards the doors. “But I should probably get going. I’ll see if I can figure out what they are putting in your food.”
Once again, Gareth watched this little Sylvie walk away from him. He had to admit that she was quite attractive. She had excellent hips, and while it was hard to see under that over-sized sweater, he guessed that she had a figure that could drive him crazy. At least if he was so included to indulge. Then there was her unusual kindness; it gave him pause. Was it truly just her nature, or was there another scheme below the surface?