Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Marriage is hell—orso I thought until the night a demon popped into my living room and dragged me to actual Hell.

That’s already pretty freak-out worthy in anyone’s book, but to make matters worse—insert the voice of the man from Monty Python’s Life of Brian who’s about to be stoned to death asking, “Making it worse? How could it be worse?”—that brooding jerk of a demon forced me to marry him.

The nerve.

So, yeah, marriage in Hell. Double whammy for me.

And to think, I was bummed about celebrating my twenty-fifth birthday all by my lonesome. Ha.

If I’d known who—what—was going to show up later, I’d have lit some sage instead of a sad little candle on a cupcake.

Blissfully unaware of my impending doom, I stared into the flame of the tiny cupcake candle for a moment, focusing on my wish for the year ahead.

Health? That’s always a good thing to have. I was good on that front, but wishing for it to stay that way sure wasn’t a bad idea.

Success? Given that I’d just landed a good job at one of San Francisco’s most reputable accounting firms, I was doing great here too, but of course that was just the first step up a high-reaching ladder. Keeping what I’d worked so hard for and making sure I’d continue on that path was definitely at the top of my wish list.

Love? Eh…

I grimaced. Love and I weren’t on speaking terms. After a few spectacularly failed relationships, I’d decided to avoid further romantic entanglements for the foreseeable future. They were always so very…tangly. I shuddered.

The flame danced in front of my eyes, topping the “25” candle stuck into the frosting on the red velvet cupcake I’d grabbed at Target on the way home from work.

I swallowed past the pinch in my heart. This would be the first birthday I’d have to ring in alone, without at least one good friend to share my (cup)cake with. Sure, I’d talked on the phone with my BFF and my mom earlier in the day, and I received text messages and posts on my social media from more friends. It just wasn’t the same as actually hanging out and celebrating with someone I loved. I hadn’t realized until now how much it mattered to me.

If I’d been at this job a little longer already, I would have invited my new colleagues… As it was, I’d only just started two days ago, and I was still desperately trying to memorize everybody’s names. The only person at work who’d known it was my birthday today was my new boss. His casually dropped “By the way, Zoe—happy birthday!” almost made me drop my coffee when he popped his head inside my cubicle. I’d stammered back a cringe-worthy “You too!” and watched him retreat with an expression somewhere between confusion and concern, probably reassessing his decision to hire me.

Socially awkward, I could do. Just like replaying mortifying episodes in my head until I wanted to bang said body part against the nearest hard surface. Thank God I was better at accounting than at social interactions.

I took a deep breath. Okay then, I’d just make this part of my birthday wish.

Make new friends, don’t scare them off with my weirdness, keep my job and be great at it, stay healthy.

And definitely, most certainly, not fall in love.

Closing my eyes, I blew out the candle.

“Happy birthday to meeeeeee,” I whispered, trying not to sound pathetic and failing pathetically.

After I extinguished the smoke by squeezing the wick between thumb and index finger, I plucked the candle from the cupcake.

“The next one will be better,” I muttered, picking up the red velvet dessert. “I’ll have colleagues and friends over and throw a huge party here.”

“Yeah, about that…” a deep male voice behind me said.

I whirled around, dropped the cupcake and shrieked.

The last time I’d screamed that loud, I’d opened the shower curtain in my college dorm bathroom to find a ginormous spider right in my face. That was also the one and only time in my life I’d miraculously transformed into a kung-fu master. Alas, those martial arts moves never came to my rescue again.

They certainly deserted me now, when I faced an unknown male intruder in my home.

A tall, dark, and lethally graceful intruder. He lounged against the wall, half wrapped in shadow despite the overhead lights fully turned on. His black clothes—which looked disturbingly like fighting gear—did nothing to hide the intimidating amount of muscles on him, from the broad shoulders, to the strong biceps stretching his rolled-up sleeves, to the powerful thighs.

My eyes snapped back up, focused on that piercing gaze set in a face I’d have described as achingly, sensually beautiful if I’d seen him under different circumstances. You know, as a model in an ad for the latest extravagant Italian luxury line, perhaps, or as the new Hollywood heartthrob.

As opposed to the psycho who’d just broken into my apartment.

Never mind the fact he looked like a fallen angel with whom any hot-blooded woman—and many a man—would want to explore the very meaning of sin. His standing here in my living room, uninvited, unannounced, a stranger with an unknown and likely menacing agenda, pushed him straight into creep territory.

I stumbled back a step, putting more space between us. My heart pounded so loud, my ears were ringing. Sensible questions to ask when confronting a home intruder might be “Who are you?” or “What are you doing here?”

My brain couldn’t decide between the two, so—naturally—what I ended up blurting out was, “Who are you doing here?”

Hi, I’m Zoe, and I’m verbally challenged.

While fires of embarrassment ate up my insides and probably painted my face an unsightly shade of red, Gorgeous Creep’s mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile.

“It’s time, Zoe.”

I froze. He knows my name. Well, duh. Any guy sociopathic enough to calmly break and sneak into a woman’s home would have done his research, right?

He pushed off the wall, and I could have sworn shadows whispered behind him in the shape of wings.

I was losing it. Clearly. This whole situation must have fried something in my brain.

“Let’s get this over with.” He waved a hand in the air, his voice a little too bored for a psycho preparing to act out his twisted fantasy.

We all like to believe we’d be brave in the face of danger, or at least…dignified and trying. So did I. Like most women, I’d mentally worked through various scenarios of being assaulted by a man, and how to best get out of it. Or to avoid it in the first place. I’d thought I had a good handle on what I’d do, a strategy, something.

In reality, as this huge guy approached me, what I did was squeak.

Like a fucking mouse stalked by a tiger.

Scrambling back until I hit the table, I managed to snap, “Stay away from me!” I reached out blindly behind me, my fingers touching my phone. Thank God. I grabbed it, my hand shaking, and unlocked it via Touch ID without taking my eyes off him. “Get out of here or I’m calling 911.”

He chuckled. “And what good would that do?”

“Umm, they’ll send an officer over to arrest you?” If the intruder is still here by that time, that is… My pulse thundered in my head, my breathing way too fast. It occurred to me that in the minutes it would take a cop to get here, this creep could do any number of things to me. Help from law enforcement would do me a fat lot of good if I were dead on the floor.

He narrowed his eyes, which were an unfairly brilliant shade of blue-gray, far too stunning for an asshole like him. “Who do you think I am?”

Was that a trick question?

My confusion must have shown on my face, because before I could venture a guess, his features hardened, making him impossibly more menacing. “You don’t remember.”

“Remember what?”

Darkness pulsed around him. Or maybe the lights flickered. It couldn’t have been real black smoke that misted about his form for a heartbeat, because that would have made me batshit insane.

And I refused to believe that.

I didn’t, however, imagine the growl coming from him, raising the hairs on my arms and neck.

“Twelve years ago,” he said through gritted teeth, his expression finally matching that of a psycho intent on inflicting pain, “you trapped me in a deal.”

My brain short-circuited. I choked on my next breath. No. Stomach dropping, I spaced out for a moment as slivers of a memory flashed up, the pieces too scattered to form a picture, yet strong enough in their implication to cause an ominous shiver to skitter down my spine.

“You summoned me,” he continued, advancing on me again while more darkness pooled around him, “and you tricked me into a contract.” A muscle feathered in his jaw. He looked murderous. “I am here to fulfill that contract.”

A memory wanted to shake itself loose, but my consciousness fought it hard, reason and logic trying desperately to prevail. This couldn’t be happening. It was impossible. He couldn’t be—

“Azazel,” I whispered, voicing the name that surfaced from the depths of my mind.

His eyes flashed as he snarled, like lightning through clouds of storm gray. “Starting to remember?” He took another sinuous step toward me. The air crackled around him. “After you conveniently forgot me?”

“I was thirteen,” I finally got out, the pieces having connected to revive a chilling memory. “It was supposed to be a joke...”

“A joke?” He appeared to choke on the word.

My throat dried up. “Well—umm—” I stammered, my voice embarrassingly creeping up to a whispered squeak. “You know, two teenagers having a fake séance kind of thing, making a ‘deal with the devil’ to not end up sad and alone...” I made air-quotes for him.

He did not look impressed.

“You called on me,” he growled, “as a joke?”

“I didn’t think you were real!”

Darkness exploded from him.

There’s no other way to describe it—shadows shot out from his form as if his very core were made of pitiless black that devoured all light. It snuffed out the lamps in the room, plunging everything into unrelenting darkness. Not even the streetlights penetrated the stygian veil that suffocated me.

As fast as he’d thrown the shadows out, he pulled them back into himself—only now two enormous black wings rose behind him. A faint shimmer of fire danced upon the glossy onyx of their feathers.

“Is this real enough for you?” he snapped.

“Shouldn’t your wings be leathery?” I covered my mouth with both hands, but it was too late. My verbal filter had successfully failed again.

He curled his lip. “We’re not bats.”

“But the pictures—”

“Are wrong. Monks and prophets and saints.” He scoffed. “There is little they got right. Now.” He stretched his wings, knocking a glass off the coffee table. Those things sure were solid. “Pack your things and come.”

“What the—what?”

“It’s time.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “We need to be gone by midnight, but I’d rather not spend the next two hours watching you pack. So grab your essentials and let’s go.” He paused, tilting his head as he studied me. “I’m letting you pack your stuff as a courtesy. Don’t make me regret my indulgence.”

I stood there, giving him the most pathetic imitation of a fish out of water while my brain desperately tried to keep up.

“What are you talking about?” I finally managed.

He stared at me. The carpet beneath him started smoldering. “Do you need this spelled out?” His voice was deceptively calm. “Maybe in a slide show presentation?” Fine tendrils of smoke rose up from his boots. “Or drawn with crayons?”

His sarcasm raised my hackles, but for once my sense of self-preservation kicked in and made me bite back my scathing response.

Instead I carefully asked, “Why should I need to pack my things?”

“Because,” he replied in a measured tone generally used on morons, “you’re coming to Hell with me.”

My heart skipped a beat. The smoke detector chose that moment to go off, and I jumped and clutched my chest. I’d have a cardiac arrest before this night was over.

The demon’s gaze cut to the beeping menace on the ceiling, and the next second the smoke detector exploded.

I shrieked and ducked under the table.

Yep, cardiac arrest coming right up.

“So,” the demon said into the oppressive silence, “you forgot me and the terms of the contract you tricked me into.”

From my vantage point under the table, I could only see his legs and boots...and the burn marks on the carpet where he stood. I swallowed. “I didn’t trick you into anything. I didn’t even know what I was doing!”

The lights flickered. A pulse of...something shuddered through the room, raising goosebumps on my skin.

“I’ll refresh your memory.” His voice was velvety soft with the kind of rumbling undertone that would usually make my knees weak. Good thing I was already kneeling on the floor. Going spaghetti-legged right in front of this guy would be worse than hiding under a table.

“The covenant you forced me into stipulates that should you be unwed by your twenty-fifth birthday, I am to...” He made a pause, and when he spoke again, he sounded as if he were chewing on a lemon “…marry you.”

His words echoed in my mind, merging with the revived memory of one stupid night twelve years ago. And I knew them to be true, with nauseating certainty.

I cowered back, further under the table, and wrapped my arms around my drawn-up legs. Reality was slipping away from me, one shallow, too-fast breath at a time.

“I’m getting tired of talking to a table top.” His feathers rustled. The air filled with pressure. “Come out from under there or I’ll drag you out.” The pressure increased. “You won’t like that,” he added in a low voice.

His energy, I realized. The thing suffusing the air and raising the tiny hairs on my nape was his power.

I looked around me, panic beating under my skin. A way out. There had to be a way out. But the space under the table offered no escape route. Two sides were open to the room, where the nutcase demon loomed. The other two sides backed up against the wall and the fridge. I was trapped in the tiny kitchen of my newly rented, “efficiency-sized” one-bedroom apartment.

“Can we, like, talk about this?” I ventured, my stomach in knots. “I mean, I know I somehow summoned you and we ended up with this farce of a deal, but—I was a teenager! A minor. I couldn’t even legally buy a car, let alone enter any other contract. Shouldn’t that apply to your kind of deals too? Given that I was a child, this pact should be—”

An invisible force grabbed hold of me and pulled me out from under the table so abruptly that I didn’t even manage to scream. I slid over the carpet as if dragged by a rope, coming to a halt right next to the demon. My head was level with his boots.

“—null and void,” I finished numbly, my gaze traveling up his long legs, over his lean hips, all the way up to that face of angelic masculine beauty.

He really shouldn’t be that stunning as a demon. Or maybe he should? I wasn’t so naive to believe that external beauty equalled inherent goodness, or the opposite. And in a way, it made perfect sense that tempters of humankind would dazzle with aesthetics.

“Age of majority for contracts is a human concept,” the unfairly attractive hell spirit in question said, his expression that of someone inspecting dog shit on their shoes. “The covenant between us is legal and binding.”

I decided I’d had enough of being prostrate on the floor at his feet, and scrambled to a stand, putting a few steps between us. There was no way I could face him at eye level—he towered over me at easily six foot five, and the unceasing pressure of his energy in the air was a constant reminder that he outmatched my puny human strength with whatever demon powers he had. But I wasn’t going to crawl before him.

“I don’t want to marry you,” I blurted out.

“Likewise.” He bared his teeth at me.

“Well—” I sputtered and waved my hands in the air. “Then why are you even here? I don’t want to do this, you don’t want to do this, so let’s just not do this!”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Okay, is there a magic word or phrase I need to say?” I reached out with my hand and intoned in my best Gandalf impression, “I release you from this spell.”

The demon stared at me.

Not a Lord of the Rings fan, then.

“The covenant cannot be revoked. Both parties must fulfill its terms, or suffer the consequences.”

“What? What kind of ridiculous contract is this if I can’t even cancel it?”

“You tell me,” he shot back, fire licking over the obsidian of his wings. “You’re the one who drafted it.”

“I didn’t draft it, I just read from an old book in a mock séance for shits and giggles with my best friend. I didn’t even understand half of it! It was a whole lot of mumbo jumbo that sounded cool and occult and seemed like a fun thing to do on a Friday night.”

His left eye twitched.

“Maybe there’s—”

“I don’t,” he interrupted with a snarl, “have all night. You will get what you need and follow me to Hell.”

He moved closer, and I held up one hand.

“Wait. Just...hold on for a second. Why do I need to come with you? I mean, if this…covenant says we must marry, we could just, like, live separately? I’ll be here on Earth, you’ll be in Hell, we’ll be married in name only, and everyone will be happy!”

His eyes widened, and he pressed a hand to his cheek. “That would be brilliant!”

“Right?” I couldn’t help the smile stealing onto my face. “I knew there must be a way ar—”

“If the covenant didn’t explicitly say we had to live together,” he cut me off, losing the pretense of surprised excitement with every word he spoke. By the end of the sentence, he regarded me with the same sour expression as before, and I had the sinking feeling he sported that look for me specifically, rather than being a grouch in general.

I clenched my teeth, fighting the heat of embarrassment rolling through me. Sardonic ass.

“So just live here on Earth, then,” I snapped. “I’m sure it beats whatever shithole in Hell you call home.”

I regretted those words as soon as they’d left my mouth. My sense of self-preservation, it seemed, operated with a delay of a few seconds. Unfortunately, that’s all my temper needed to get the better of me.

The light dimmed, sucked away as if devoured by ravenous shadows, until the only things illuminating the darkness were the glowing storm gray of his eyes and the flames whispering over his wings.

“Careful,” he murmured. “You’re speaking of your future home.”

Relief flooded me when he let the light crawl back into the room. I swallowed hard.

“My point,” I said, taking care to keep my tone polite, “was that it seems the better option for you to live on Earth.”

“No.” His eyes glittered hard.

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Taking a deep breath, I reined in my rising anger. “Why. Not.”

“I’m bound to Hell.”

I blinked. “You’re here now.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “There are limits to how long I can stay.”

“Oh.” My shoulders sagged. If he truly wasn’t able to live on Earth, and the contract specified we had to live together...I would really have to go to Hell with him.

My heart leapt into my throat, its beat too fast. The room seemed to close in on me, and this time I was sure it wasn’t the demon’s doing.

I couldn’t let him take me. There had to be a way out, a loophole, something. I wasn’t just going to up and leave my life here for a likely torturous existence in a dimension of nightmares.

I had been inching away from him, and now the backs of my knees bumped into the couch. I almost lost my balance, but caught myself with one hand on a cushion. My gaze fell on my purse, which I had thrown here earlier—and on the mace sticking out of it.

On an impulse, I grabbed the spray, aimed it at the demon and pressed the trigger. A surprisingly long stream of misty liquid shot out. It would have hit him somewhere on his torso...if the agile bastard hadn’t sidestepped the spray with supernatural grace.

The shot hit the wall, leaving a faint stain as if someone had taken a water pistol to the wallpaper.

“Pepper spray?” the demon asked. “Really?”

My eyes flicked to him, and I flinched. He looked outwardly calm, bored even, but there was something writhing underneath his nonchalance, like he was one wrapping-that-doesn’t-open-where-it-should away from snapping like a workaholic who’d run out of coffee.

I wondered what kind of day he’d had, whether he’d run into problem after problem only to be now faced with having to wrangle an unsuspecting, unprepared and altogether uncooperative human woman into marriage and a trip back to Hell. I was probably the cherry on top of his shit sundae, and here I was, trying to attack him with pepper spray. I admit it. Of all the moronic things I’d done, this ranked pretty damn high.

Right under summoning a demon in a joke séance, of course.

I smiled apologetically. Or rather, I tried to. My smile ended in a grimace as I started coughing and wheezing. My eyes watered, and I gasped at the burning sensation. “Stop,” I croaked. “I’m sorry!”

“It’s not me,” the demon said, exasperation in his voice. I couldn’t see it through the tears blurring my vision, but I had the distinct impression he was rolling his eyes. “It’s what happens when someone is idiotic enough to use pepper spray indoors.”

With a flick of his wrists, the windows slid open. A merciful breeze blew inside, and I took a deep breath. Thank heavens.

In my defense, I’d never tested the pepper spray before. How could I have known one pump of it released a stream big enough to paint the wall in Jackson Pollock style?

My eyes were still stinging, my lungs felt like I’d dipped them in acid, but I mastered what I hoped was a propitiatory smile and said, “My apologies for that. Just a case of nerves. It’s all a bit much, you know? I’m sorry for overreacting.” I swallowed, pushing down my anxiety. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes. I just need to grab a couple things. As you so graciously offered.”

I grimaced inwardly. Lay it on thick, why don’t you, Zoe?

The demon stared at me, his stormy gaze inscrutable. He stood much closer to where the pepper spray had hit the wall, yet he seemed entirely unaffected by it. His eyes were clear, and he wasn’t coughing up a storm. A chill coursed down my spine. Just another reminder of how not human this guy was.

“You have five minutes.” His dark voice caressed my senses, and I suppressed another shiver.

I snatched my purse from the couch and speed-walked into my bedroom.

“A little privacy,” I called out as I closed the door.

Heart thundering in my chest, I hurried into the ensuite bathroom and turned on the faucet in the sink. While I was there, I quickly splashed my face with water, hoping to get some of the pepper spray out of my eyes and nose. I kept the water running, unlocked my phone and dialed my BFF’s number from the favorites. Please pick up, I silently prayed. Please pick up.

I checked the time and did some math while it rang. It had to be close to four in the afternoon over there. Not the best time to call on a workday—she was likely still at the office—but better than if she’d still be living here in the States. She’d often go to bed early, and chances wouldn’t be good that she’d pick up if I called her this late at night.

However, she’d moved to Australia a few months ago. Which sucked big time. Having my best friend since childhood move to the other side of the world was a constant source of pain. We hadn’t always lived in the same place after we finished school, but we were never farther apart than a few short hours by car. We often visited each other on weekends.

That wasn’t possible anymore. Still, thanks to technology, we could bridge the distance with frequent chats via text and video calls.

And the one good thing to come from her moving so far away was that I could now call her late at night with a demonic emergency, and she’d actually be awake to pick up.

“Hey there,” Taylor answered my call, “what’s up? Isn’t it a bit late over there? Are you—”

“Tay,” I interrupted her, “do you remember that séance we did when we were thirteen?”

“Umm. A bit random, but okay.”

“Do you remember?” I whisper-shouted into the phone.

“Sheesh. Yes, I do. Kind of hard to forget. The lights flickered, and it scared the shit out of me. Why are you bringing it up now?”

“He’s here. The demon I summoned that night. He’s here because apparently I trapped him into a contract back then, and the time for it is up, and now he’s here to drag me to Hell with him.”

Silence.

“Tay?” I squinted with my still tearing eyes at the display to check whether we’d been disconnected. All good. “Did you hear me?”

Taylor cleared her throat. “I heard you all right. It’s just… Have you been drinking? I mean, I know it’s your birthday, but—”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Had a smoke?”

“I’m not high either!”

“Okay... You must realize how this sounds.”

“Tay, I swear on our shared hatred of the How I Met Your Mother ending, I am not making this up. This is real. There is a demon standing in the next room claiming I trapped him into some crazy marriage contract, and right now I’m supposed to pack my bags and follow him to Hell.”

A pregnant pause.

“Are you serious?” Taylor whispered.

“I am. I wish I weren’t. I wish this were a terrible joke, but it is the fucking truth, and I’m terrified. I’m scared shitless, and I need you, Tay. I need my best friend.”

“Fuck, Zoe.” She took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said, audibly pulling herself together. “Okay. Here’s the plan—you need a priest.”

“A priest.”

“Uh, yeah, obviously. A Catholic one, ideally. You need to get out of there somehow and find a church. Get in, grab a priest, and ask him for an exorcism or something. Maybe you can bathe in Holy Water?”

I let out a dry laugh, careful to keep it quiet. I wasn’t sure if the demon could hear us over the sound of the water running.

“Tay,” I said, rubbing one hand over my face, “where am I supposed to find a church that’s open this late? This isn’t the fifties, when churches would be open 24/7. They all close early these days and lock their doors because people are shitty and steal from churches.”

“Not all of them are closed.” I heard the distinct clacking of a keyboard in the background. “Here. There’s one just a few blocks from you, and they’re having a late candle light vigil or something. They started at nine, but if you hurry, you might just catch the priest on his way out.”

“Tay, you’re an angel. Thank you.”

“Well, you do need divine assistance against your demonic betrothed.”

My low laugh felt brittle. “Can you stay on the line?”

“Of course.”

I slung my purse around my shoulder, slipped into an extra pair of flats and carefully slid the window open.

“I tried to attack him with pepper spray,” I whispered as I maneuvered over the windowsill to the fire escape landing on the other side.

“You didn’t!”

I grimaced. “I was panicking. But it didn’t even affect him at all.”

“Oooh! Do you still have it on you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Maybe you can get the priest to bless the spray. I bet it will affect him then.”

“Holy Pepper Spray,” I mused. “The idea has some merit.”

I was at the end of the fire escape, the street looming at what looked like nine feet below me.

“Hold on,” I said to Taylor. “I need to find the drop ladder.”

I’d never had to use a fire escape before, but I knew there had to be a ladder that would slide out and bridge the drop to the ground. I looked around, my heart still beating a frantic rhythm. If my escape took too long, the demon would come after me and find me scrambling down this ladder.

There, fastened to the side of the building, almost invisible in the dark, sat a narrow metal ladder, long enough to reach the ground.

I fumbled for a moment, then found the lever for releasing the ladder. It slid down along the hinges attached to the wall with a frighteningly loud screech.

“Was that the demon?” Taylor asked.

“No,” I grumbled, throwing an anxious glance upward to my bedroom window. “That was a drop ladder in desperate need of lubrication.”

“That’s what he said.”

My snort was totally unladylike. “I’m gonna pack you away while I climb down, okay?”

“Sure.”

Hands clammy, I descended the ladder and let myself fall the short rest of the way to the street. With the drop ladder, it was only a few feet instead of the previous ankle-breaking height.

“All right,” I said as I put my phone back to my ear, “which way, all-knowing one?”

“Left for two blocks, then turn right.”

Without missing a beat, I ran. My trip down the fire escape had taken longer than I was comfortable with, and I had to make sure I was well on my way when the demon noticed I was gone. I didn’t know whether the demon could track me, so the farther away I got before he figured out I had vanished, the better.

Come to think of it, though—he’d found me after twelve years, in a new apartment, a new city. The chance of him not being able to track me were slim, to be honest. My heart pumped overtime, my lungs burned, and not just from the pepper spray. I was running faster than I had in a long time, and my body screamed in protest.

“I should have...exercised...more...” I spat out in between gasping for air.

“Well,” Tay said, “it’s not like you knew you’d one day need a whole lot of sprinting prowess to run from a demon.”

I would if I hadn’t forgotten about the whole deal. Ugh. “I see...the church...”

“Great. Okay, it says here that this vigil or whatever is in the church itself, but you may have to check one of the side entrances if the main door is locked.”

“Thanks,” I wheezed.

Running up the steps to the portal, I forced my legs to keep working for these last few feet. After stumbling to a stop in front of the door, I grabbed the big handle and pulled. It didn’t give.

“It’s locked,” I panted into the phone.

“Google Maps shows a side entrance around the corner. Try that one.”

“Okay.” And off I ran, again.

Down the steps, around the corner. Just...a bit…farther. There.

“I see...the priest... He’s locking…the door...”

“Oh, thank fuck. Go get exorcised, girl. Call me when you can, okay?”

“Of course.” I hung up just as I skidded to a stop next to the priest.

The man startled, his eyes going wide. He had salt-and-pepper hair and wore a simple black outfit with the typical white collar.

I hadn’t been raised Catholic, so I had no personal experience with clergy, and no emotional association either way, but boy, was I thrilled to see a priest now.

“I…need...help,” I wheezed out and doubled over, my hands on my knees.

“Are you hurt?” The priest stretched out a hand, clearly unsure what to do with me.

I was fairly certain I’d pulled a few muscles and maybe gone into tachycardia, but I waved his question away.

“I’m in...a bit of a...pickle,” I began, working hard to speak in full sentences again without huffing. “There’s a demon on my tail, and I need...like…an exorcism to get rid of him.”

The priest blinked. “You—you think you’re being followed by a...demon?”

“Well, yes. See, when I was thirteen, I held this…séance summoning thingy with a friend—I know, I know, those things shouldn’t be dabbled in, believe me, I’ve learned my lesson—and apparently I kind of accidentally trapped a demon into a contract to marry me if I’m still single at twenty-five. Which is, unfortunately, today. And get this—that demon totally took me seriously! A teenager! I mean, who does that?”

I huff-laughed and remembered too late that I probably appeared like someone in need of soothing medication.

Which I wouldn’t say no to, right at this moment.

The priest’s expression matched my suspicion.

“Anyway,” I hurried on, “I’d forgotten all about it until he popped into my living room tonight, being all broody and irritatingly hot. And I mean that literally—he singed my carpet. I barely got out of there, and now I’m in need of some priestly assistance so he won’t drag me to hell with him. Can you maybe bless my pepper spray? Or give me a cross to wear as a talisman? A rosary? Anything to make sure I don’t have to marry a demon who can’t take a joke. Um, Father?”

The priest’s face had lost all color, his features reminiscent of people caught on camera while going through a haunted house at a carnival. His wide eyes were fixed at a spot over my shoulder.

That’s when I felt the heat at my back.

“He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he?” I whispered.