4. Chapter Three

Adisquieting tension coils around me like a snake, pulling me from the comfortable fog of sleep. My eyes flutter open against the thick shadows that envelope my bedroom, and I groan softly as I turn my head towards the window to the right of my queen sized bed. It's still dark outside, because my vision fills with faint amber light from the streetlight outside my apartment.

It must be the middle of the night, because there isn't even a hint of morning light in the dark sky. My tired eyes struggle to focus, the light from outside just barely illuminating my room from behind the heavy curtain. Wondering what time it is, I turn my head away from the window to glance at the clock on my nightstand.

3:33 am.

With a groan, I turn back to my right, curling up into the fetal position on my side. I squeeze my eyes shut and will myself back to sleep.

It has been several days since the stress of my family dinner. Sleep hasn't come easy to me since my recent encounter with the man that abused me.

I didn't get home until late last night, struggling to manage the new inventory of books my boss brought into the drab used book store where I work. It took me several hours of overtime to sort the fragile old texts, the expensive first editions, and the popular new releases for shelving the next day.

Knowing that my next shift would require me to haul heavy stacks of books around the shop for hours on end, organizing shelves and rearranging sections, I figured it wouldn't hurt to put myself to bed early after I finally made it home.

Despite hitting the sack early, I still found myself lying awake for several long hours, unable to actually drift off until well past midnight. My head has been a chaotic whirlwind of repetitive thoughts lately, and I can't seem to quiet the noise when bedtime rolls around.

Just as I am starting to doze off again, a loud creak pulls me right back to wakefulness. This time, when my eyes open, the only thing I notice is how the dense shadows linger heavily in every corner of my room. The dim light filtering in from the street isn't strong enough to chase those shadows away.

In a drowsy haze, I wonder where the creaking sound came from. Nothing seems out of place. The three-unit building my apartment is a part of is quite old, so maybe the sound I heard was just the floors shifting. My apartment is full of old, worn wooden floors. Hearing them creak and shift is common enough, especially when the temperature changes with the seasons.

I lay there waiting for something to happen, the silence so intense that it brings with it a bout of tinnitus. After several tense minutes, when the tinnitus finally dissipates, I sigh and turn back to my right to curl up in the same position as before.

My mind eventually falls silent once again, and I find myself drifting along the foggy edge of sleep. I am on the cusp of slipping away when a rasping sound pulls me back. At this point, I am so exhausted and so close to sleep, that the distant sound comes and goes and I never fully rouse.

Until I feel the unwelcome brush of fingertips across the back of my neck, accompanied by the nearly inaudible whisper of an unintelligible voice.

Unfamiliar words. The tone impossibly low, and slow moving like molasses.

Jolting awake, I practically fall out of bed as I scramble to get to the window. My shaking hands reach out to grasp the curtain keeping the light at bay, tugging it open so the streetlight can spill inside my room. Uncoordinated, I stumble on my feet as I turn to face the intruder, my back pressing tightly against the chilly window pane.

Except, there's no one there.

My heart pounds like a frantic prey animal in the cage of my chest, my eyes open wide as the sound of my panicked breaths fill the room. My eyes rove back and forth from wall to wall, desperate to find something to explain that strange sensation I just felt on the back of my neck.

The street light outside bathes my room in an uncanny orange glow, but it is still too weak to light up all of the dark places lingering on the other side of my bed. I am fatigued and terrified, so my brain is seeing shapes in the shadows that my rational mind knows cannot possibly be there.

I see faces devoid of features, and shadow figures contorted into crouched positions, hiding in the dark corners, trapped in the shadows. Some staring wide-eyed at me, mouths gaping, as still as statues.

I take several slow, deep breaths as I try to calm the frantic rhythm of my heart. Then I give my head a shake to clear the fog of confusion and paranoia.

"There's nothing here. It's just my overtired brain seeing things," I whisper quietly, desperate to comfort myself. I don't know what could have touched me, because nobody is here. Maybe it was just a dream, a dream that felt entirely too real.

My eyes dart back and forth as I continuously search my bedroom for anything out of the ordinary, fear coiling tight in my gut as I try to pretend like I am not actually seeing monsters in all of the dark places surrounding me. The longer I stand there reassuring myself, the faster the faces begin to vanish.

A few minutes pass, and my pounding heart finally settles. I stand there with my back pressed against the window, fear giving way to confusion. The cold from outside radiates from the window pane and seeps into my skin, making me shiver as I stand there surveying my bedroom.

"It must have been a dream," I tell myself out loud, lifting one shaky hand to brush across my face and rub the exhaustion from my eyes.

That completely reasonable theory is proven false when the door to my altar room slams shut. I startle so violently that a small scream escapes me as I catapult myself right over my bed, and head straight for the light switch across the room. I slam the switch to the on position and reach for my bedroom door, throwing it open to launch myself out of my bedroom.

Panic has my body trembling while the bright light from my ceiling fan stings my eyes.

I step back into the doorway to face the direction of the walk-in closet, eyeing the closed door suspiciously. I had done such a good job convincing myself that I was just dreaming, that when something significant finally happened it scared the living hell out of me.

"Who's there?" I call out, my voice far more shaky than I intend it to be. The bright light has me blinking rapidly, squinting while my vision struggles to adjust as I stare at the door.

I wait and listen, but no other sound can be heard. Everything is eerily silent now.

Staring at the closet door, I wonder what the hell just happened. I always leave that door shut, and it remained closed every time I glanced at it tonight. I did hear a door creak earlier, so perhaps something happened and it popped open.

Maybe I didn't close it properly, and the latch didn't fully engage. Perhaps it was a draft from the open window that somehow made it open. Maybe a mouse pushed it open.

Or it could have been a ghost.

Turning my head to look at the only window in the room, my hope for a rational explanation dies when I confirm the window is closed and secured with the lock.

My bedroom door was closed, too. I just threw it open so hard it bounced off the door stopper with a loud rattle. There is no reason that the closet door should be doing anything other than remaining closed.

My skin is crawling while I stand there and try to decide if I want to leave the apartment, or go back into my bedroom to figure out what made that door slam shut. A sane person would leave and come back with a police officer. Someone both sane and smart would have someone qualified investigate this during the damn day.

I shake my head and let out an audible sigh, my eyes traveling around the seam of the closet door. At the bottom, ever so faintly, I see a warm flickering light. I reach inside the room and hit the light switch to confirm what I think I'm seeing. A weak, gentle light spills from beneath the door. Turning the lights back on, I suddenly feel like throwing up.

"What the fuck…" I take several tentative steps forward until I'm standing in front of the now closed door. My hand reaches out for the door knob, my fingers curling lightly around it. It's unusually warm, which is strange considering how chilly my apartment gets in the colder months.

The knob turns slowly with a twist of my wrist, and my heart rate picks up yet again as I pull the door slowly towards me. I stand there in the doorway, peering inside the dark space, holding my breath as if expecting something to jump out at me.

Something definitely isn't right. One of my protection spell candles is lit, the tall black stick positioned at the farthest point of the pentacle disk at the altar's center. The tapestry that covers the glossy surface is rumpled in a few places, and the other candles I left organized to one side have fallen to lay haphazardly in spots I definitely did not leave them.

The candle that is lit is the one on which I carved that arcane sigil, the sigil I found in that ancient book from the occult shop in Rome. The wick harbors an impressively large flame, the light dancing as it flickers purposefully among the shadows.

Although the candle's flame is significant and tenacious, the candle does not illuminate the room the way it should. I glance from wall to wall, but cannot make out any features inside the closet. The only thing I can see is the surface of my altar about a foot all the way around the candle.

That's definitely not normal.

The candle should brighten the whole closet, but it just… doesn't. The shadows are so dense, I can't make sense of it. It's like the laws of physics decided to go on vacation.

There's a dark and oppressive energy in here, swirling around like an insidious creature. Intuition tells me to run, to get out of the house and wait for the light of day to chase the darkness away. Unfortunately for me, I can't seem to move. My mind and body are disconnected, because instead of stepping away, I stand firmly in place.

Everything feels very, very wrong. Obviously whatever is happening here has nothing to do with an ordinary human intruder. This is definitely paranormal.

I'm a witch. I may be new to my practice, but this is my world now.

I can handle this.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I pretend to have all the confidence in the world as I step into my altar room. The second I enter, the shadows close in around me, and the closet door gently shuts at my back.

I startle slightly at the sound of the door closing, immediately turning to open it again. It doesn't budge, no matter how hard I try to turn the knob. Movement from somewhere in the closet has me spinning back around, my back pressing tight against the door frame.

The darkness is so heavy, and that one candle's flame is soldiering on but something sinister is at work here, preventing the light from doing its job.

The sound of distant laughter carries around me, shifting deep and low. My hair stands on end as my eyes try desperately to find the source of the sound, but all I see is the inky blackness.

My bottom lip trembles as the fear overtakes me, my hand reaching behind me to once again try to open the door. Witch or not, I am not equipped to deal with this. I groan with frustration when the door refuses to give.

Before I can scream for help, with the hope that one of my neighbours might hear me, a wave of tranquility washes over me. All of the fear and panic swirling around inside of me like a destructive tornado suddenly diminishes, the feelings dampening under the calming fog that settles in.

My lips part on a heavy sigh as my body relaxes, the shadows pressing against me from behind. Taking two steps forward until I am closer to the solitary candle, I watch as the flame dances wildly on the lengthy wick. Back and forth it sways, mesmerizing, captivating.

Warmth spreads through me as I watch it, lost in the hypnotic way it moves. I don't know how much time passes as I stand there watching it, but eventually a stream of thoughts flutter through my mind.

This isn't right. Something is manipulating me. Scream for help! I should be scared!

Another wave of calm washes over me, and the thoughts drift away as though they don't matter at all. Lifting my shoulders, I peer into the darkness beyond the candle's light, only to see the silhouette of someone standing there.

A large, towering figure. A shadow against the rest of the shadows, so easy to miss. I question my sanity for a moment, until I see it move.

A normal person would scream at this point, that much I am sure of, but there is only the warmth spreading through me with every steady breath. I feel as though I am sinking through the ground beneath my feet, slipping deeper into a dark pool.

My stomach drops as a new sensation hits me, the air becoming suffocating as I am submerged in something I cannot see. The flame in front of my eyes dims so low I fear the flame will give out while my lungs struggle to draw in a full breath.

In an instant, I breach an invisible surface, the flame popping back to life as the air surrounding me returns to normal. I draw one long, deep breath into my lungs as my breathing quickly regulates. The silhouette in the distance moves, the frightening shadow figure stepping to the side.

A disembodied voice, deep like the darkest of ocean depths, breaks through the fog in a soothing whisper. So low and deep, it sounds entirely inhuman, as though whatever is here in this room with me is trying to mimic a human's voice.

"Little witch."

Lightning sparks across my nerve endings, every single hair on my body rising. I begin to tremble, goosebumps erupting across every inch of my skin as the voice brushes across my senses. The terror surges from the pit of my stomach, my intuition ringing like an alarm, but the calming waves radiating from the sinister entity beat my emotions back down.

The shadow moves, but all I can see is the ghastly outline of it. What looks like thick, black smoke clings to its ethereal form.

It speaks again.

"What do you seek?" The disembodied voice is horrific, the tone and pitch so unnatural that I can barely stand to hear it as it infiltrates my senses. The darkness surrounding me is heavy, oppressive, and threatening to bring me to my knees. My body suddenly feels sapped of strength, my bare feet rooted to the wooden floor beneath me.

I watch it with my eyes, but my body is frozen. I cannot move. I cannot turn my head.

The entity's question bounces around inside my head, demanding my answer. What do I seek? The only thing I've been looking for is protection.

I finally find my words through the heavy fog that has descended over me, the calming waves still washing over me and keeping my hysteria at bay.

"I-I needed p-pr-protection," I stutter, trying my hardest to force myself to move, desperate to regain control of my own body. All I want is to keep the entity in front of me, but I am helpless as it shifts closer to a position behind my back.

"I can give you protection," it promises, its voice shifting until it sounds distinctly masculine, although still quite inhuman.

"W-who are you?"

Faint laughter is the response to my question, low and ominous, shifting through the darkness. The entity keeps moving, and still I cannot turn to face it. Once it takes up position to the right of me, it speaks again, the voice entering exclusively through my right ear.

"I am the teacher," it says, barely audible. "The protector." Louder now.

The disembodied voice echoes around me, repeating three times, the sound so haunting that it makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

There is whispering now, rising all around me. Words that I cannot comprehend, a cacophony of voices, maddening and disorienting. I struggle to focus as the legions of voices speak to me. The sound crescendos and then everything suddenly falls silent. It is so silent that the sudden absence of noise makes my ears ring.

The silence stretches between us as the entity disappears on the periphery of my vision. Dread swells inside of me as I lose sight of it, feeling the malevolent presence standing behind me now.

Lips brush against my ear, and warm breath trails along my sensitive skin. I shudder as tears gather at the corner of my eyes, frustration and fear beneath the calm being forced upon me. I can't turn to face it. I can't escape.

The silence is too intense. A tear slips free and glides down my cheek.

"A Prince of Hell," the entity's grim voice echoes, finally answering the question trapped behind my trembling lips. More tears fall, and a scream gets caught in my throat. A dark hand, as black as a starless night sky, moves in from the left of me to settle over my mouth.

"Shhhh," the entity soothes, his unsettling voice sounding more and more human with every word, distinctly masculine and less disorienting. It is as though he is making an effort not to give me a heart attack from the fear and dread threatening to break free from his control.

The scream dies inside of me, and I moan my defeat as my shoulders slump and my head drops.

I called for my ancestors during that ritual, no one else. I did not intentionally summon the demon trapping me here now. I am nobody. I am nothing. Why would a Prince of Hell, and all else it claims to be, give a shit about me? I'm just a newly awakened witch with barely any experience.

The hand slips away from my mouth, and I inhale sharply to draw air deep into my lungs.

"Please let me go. Please don't kill me," I beg as the entity steps closer, his big body pressing against my back. My voice and body are trembling so violently I think I may faint. I don't know what else to do, what more could I possibly say to whatever thing is here trapping me?

Without warning, warmth spreads around me and engulfs me, reminding me of those steamy candlelit baths I used to take all the time when I was stressed out and in need of comfort. Those baths are always so soothing and warm… and they always make me feel safe.

Safe. The demon is trying to make me feel safe. That disturbs me just as much as the rest of this nightmare, if not more.

All I can feel is him, wrapping around me from behind. His muscular arms wrap around my waist as he holds me in his embrace, securing me against his powerful structure.

Why is he holding me? I don't understand. I expected this entity to kill me, but now all I can feel is comfort as he cradles me in his arms.

"Your soul is marked by my sigil, little witch," he explains, and before I can answer, I feel my body falling until I am kneeling before my altar, the candle flame dancing wildly before my eyes.

I gasp loudly as I am pulled backwards off my knees, directly into his massive torso. Hard, warm, and immovable.

"I will not harm you, little witch." His voice still fluctuates, the tones shifting, failing to sound like anything but a failed mimicry of a man.

I still can barely see anything around me beyond the single flickering flame ahead. The darkness has swallowed everything but the tiny space around the candle on my altar. This demon's mastery of reality is terrifying.

"You..." he whispers against my ear, and a shiver charges through my entire body. He no longer feels like a misty shadow figure. He seems corporeal now. Real. "...belong to me."

Shock strikes like lightning while the fear threatens to overwhelm me, but he holds me tight against his body and forces both of those emotions down. The absolute control he has over me should terrify me, but I am lost to him in this moment. I have no control here. Not anymore.

I didn't want this. I just wanted protection from the man that abused me. I was desperate. I made a mistake. A stupid, stupid mistake.

As though he can hear my inner dialogue, he presses his warm lips to my ear and speaks softly. "I will protect you, for you are mine." The tone of his last word deepens, sharpens, and shifts.

"Only mine."

The sound is entirely inhuman once again.

I just can't adjust to the unsettling sound of his voice, and I know the memory of it will haunt me forever. "I will give you all that you desire, little witch. I will make you strong."

"You just need to let me in…" he whispers, his deep voice penetrating my senses and threatening to fracture what remains of my fragile sanity. His hand drops, settling between my thighs, and shock registers for a second time.

Against my will, a soothing heat and a gentle pleasure flares from the palm of his hand, where he rests it at the apex of my thighs. The shock of him touching me there makes my head spin with a tumultuous mix of confusion and unwanted arousal.

The change from terror to comfort and arousal is dizzying. None of this makes sense.

He's controlling everything, including my feelings.

"Let me in, Selene." His words are a soothing, demonic growl up against the shell of my ear, his warm breath causing my skin to erupt in goosebumps. His fingers, long and thick, with what feels like heavy talons on the ends of each one, stroke through the soft folds between my thighs. He's coaxing me, I realize, as he places an ardent kiss to the sensitive spot beneath my ear. "Give yourself to me."

Arousal burns deep inside of me against my will, and although I know my body should not be reacting like this, it is. I feel enslaved to his touch, like my body didn't get the memo that I'm not currently laying in the arms of a human lover.

This is madness, and my body is betraying me. I am in the arms of a demonic entity, and I'm trapped here in the darkness with him. Is he really asking me to be his lover, in exchange for his protection?

Suddenly, the legion of voices I heard earlier are back again. So many frantic and desperate voices, growing so loudly in this small space, that all I can do is squeeze my eyes shut and wince against the auditory onslaught.

I try to focus my mind on what they are saying, but the confusing jumble of panicked voices are hard to sort through.

No! Stop!I hear.

KEEP HIM OUT!

The unearthly scream that accompanies that despairing plea rattles me down to the very core of my soul, and I struggle hard against the demon that has taken hold of me. I fight against his control with everything I've got, but the noise only escalates around me.

The demon growls, deep and low, and the voices once again dissipate to nothing.

"Somebody please help me!" I shout in my desperation to escape this hellish nightmare. My nervous system can't handle this anymore, it feels as though I am on the precipice of descending into irreparable lunacy.

As though he is aware of my fracturing mental state, he whispers soothing sounds in my ear, rocking me back and forth in his embrace. I sob quietly, a hiccup rattling me, the earlier arousal long gone.

"Please," I beg him, "just let me go."

Without another word between us, I feel the darkness begin to lighten. The warmth of his body recedes as he releases his hold on me.

The candle that once burned brightly, slowly begins to dwindle down, until the flame disappears entirely in a wispy puff of smoke. The weight that once pinned me down lifts, the entity retreats, and within seconds I am left alone in the darkness.

In what feels like the blink of an eye, the demon is gone.

My trembling hands brace against the floor as I pull myself to my feet, standing up and swaying towards the door. I open it, slipping out and shutting it closed behind me.

I should be feeling relief, but the entity is gone and all I feel is empty. Empty, alone and unsafe. I don't have the mental strength to contemplate those feelings right now, so I keep walking until I reach the door to my tiny backyard.

I step outside into the cold night air, the gentle breeze fluttering across my skin, and wander over to the back corner of my garden. I fit myself into the small space next to one of my planters, the only one that contains common kitchen herbs.

Collapsing onto the patio stones beneath me, I pull my knees to my chest and duck my head. I rock back and forth in a desperate attempt to soothe myself, trying to keep my mind clear and my breathing slow and deep. My skin is crawling, as though I can still feel the demon's hands on my flesh. Echoes of the experience that I desperately wish I could just wash away.

I'm exhausted. I feel it from the top of my head to the soles of my feet, and I'm cold. So cold. At some point between exiting the closet and leaving my apartment, I must have grabbed a jacket. I don't remember doing it, but I am grateful either way. I'm certain I'd have fallen unconscious from hypothermia if it wasn't wrapped tightly around me, shielding me from most of the cold.

As my eyes adjust to the morning light, I feel a little more human. I suddenly remember that I'm meeting Arianna for a coffee date this afternoon. I need to try and sleep a few more hours, so I can make it through the day. Normally I would just cancel on her, but she broke up with her boyfriend last week and isn't handling it very well.

I unfold from my position, wincing at how stiff and sore my body is, and slowly get to my feet. Heading back towards the door, I step inside my apartment and gaze around the homey kitchen. The energy feels calm and light, a significant difference compared to what I felt in my altar room.

I wander over to the living room, unwilling to go back into my bedroom right now, and crawl into my large plush reading chair.

I'll sleep for just two or three hours, and then head over to the coffee shop.

It's still mostly dark in here, the early morning light barely illuminating the interior of my home. The atmosphere is comfortable and feels completely normal, unlike earlier. I pull a grey fleece blanket up over my body, and nestle into the oversized recliner.

My eyes slowly close, and I drift away before I can form another coherent thought.