1

All I’d wanted was my first kiss.

Instead, I almost killed the poor bastard.

Attending my first party. Socializing with strangers. Those all seemed like simple enough tasks. Typical even for a Saturday night in Haverwick, where not much else happened. Peter, the cute guy in the graphic-tee that fit above his belt at an awkward length, was the one who invited me. I barely knew him but from what little I did, he might’ve been a doormat.

His guests—or friends —treated his house with shockingly little regard. Empty cans had accumulated on the floor, avoiding the trash’s convenient functions. Some smoked in carpeted rooms as if it were their own, leaving pungent trails there as well.

I was beginning to think I hadn’t missed much in my years of solitude.

Not when humans were so… ick .

Aside from their blatant rudeness, everyone seemed to love Peter’s company; shouting his name as he passed, grabbing his hand or shoulder in boisterous greetings. I wasn’t surprised, though. His friendly personality had drawn me in too. I still don’t know why he’d asked me—the friendless weirdo working at a potions shop—to come.

My stomach tightened when I remembered the stupid note I’d left for my aunt. I kept telling myself there was no reason to feel guilty. What twenty-year-old had to sneak out?

Twenty- one . It was my birthday after all.

“Want something to drink?”

Peter had been bombarded since I arrived, so his sudden attention caught me off-guard. I did my best to not appear anxious and forced a confused smile.

He leaned in close to repeat himself over the noise. “A drink! Want one?”

His shirt smelled like it had just left the men’s department store with all the suits and leather. Did every cute guy smell as good or was Peter’s cologne godsent?

Oh, shit. I forgot he’d asked me a question.

“Water?” I said, forgetting what other beverages existed.

Peter grinned, and my heart fluttered like it had sprouted wings. That, or I was dying.

I followed him into the kitchen. After the third bump of my shoulder, I forced my arms down to my sides. Don’t panic. There had to be some open space, somewhere. I questioned the legality of having that many people together in one room. Perspiration glittered on their brows from dancing and their heat fogged up the windows.

Again. Ick .

Peter avoided the long table of various bottles and cans in his kitchen to grab water from the fridge. A couple of girls with red cups giggled in our direction. Should I have just accepted the drinks everyone else had?

“I feel bad,” Peter said, “You look uncomfortable.”

Just worried about getting everyone killed.

I shook my head. “It’s just loud.”

“What’s a normal Saturday night for you?” he asked.

“Pouring wax,” I said, cringing a little, “Sometimes watching really old sitcoms. There’s usually food.”

“Wax, huh?” Peter snorted, which turned into a genuine laugh, and he pointed to the black material that molded around my fingers. “Is that what the gloves are for?”

I wore gloves to prevent the bad things from happening.

As long as I didn’t touch anyone with my bare hands, everything was fine. I only had a vague memory of it ever happening, but the stranger’s face, blue and twisting in shock, left an imprint in my mind. A repressed memory from my childhood.

I didn’t tell him any of that. “Ah, no. I just have cold hands.”

A lie but no one questioned me about it when I gave them that answer.

“Candles and brews…” He paused, tapping his chin as if deep in thought. “I’m starting to think the rumors about you two being witches are true.”

“That’s just my aunt.”

Peter laughed again, but I was serious.

“She’s protective of you, huh? Homeschooled?” he asked.

I nodded. “Sometimes it’s nice, but I’ll always wonder what it could’ve been like with—”

Friends.

“—more.”

“I get that. We make the best with what we got, right? So, what would you like to do with your freedom tonight?”

Honestly, I could’ve kept talking with Peter, but I feigned interest in meeting his friends. Some of them I recognized from the shop. I couldn’t remember their names, even seconds after getting introduced. There had to be at least three Joshes, and after that, I gave up.

I didn’t want to assume but I felt weird looks from all of them. Their eyes lingered everywhere but my face. I didn’t think I’d dressed too outlandish, just jeans and a top like most people, but apparently it was all wrong. Girls stared too like I’d deeply offended them by breathing the same air.

There was no way they knew what I was…

Right?

After an hour, or maybe twenty minutes, I felt fatigued. Mentally. How could anyone handle gatherings of that magnitude for long? No one in that house possessed any supernatural genes that spared them from needing regular rest. I was in a room full of mortal masochists.

Peter’s hand suddenly rested on my hip and my eyes widened.

“Need a break?” he asked. “My room’s quiet. I-I promise I’m not suggesting anything else.”

My blood felt hot. He’d been a gentleman so far but if he stole a kiss, I wouldn’t have minded. Hell, I would’ve given it to him. That “first” milestone had sat pending for too long and was becoming a real burden.

We did our best not to catch anyone’s attention as we headed upstairs. He sped up when someone said his name, dragging me along by my gloved hand. Seeing him so comfortable with the smallest touches made me feel good. Adored even.

Normal.

Peter welcomed me into his room. Considering the exciting life he had, his room left little to the imagination. Dark walls, a bookshelf, solid colored bedding, and a drawer with an unfolded shirt sitting on top.

“We’re safe,” he said, “Sorry, I didn’t clean today.”

“It’s cleaner than my whole apartment,” I said. With nowhere else to sit, I hovered over the edge of his bed. “Thanks. This has been fun.”

“Don’t lie.” He plopped down next to me with minimal hesitation. “I should’ve asked you to dinner, not thrown you into the lion’s den.”

I covered my warm cheeks with my hands. Blushing? Seriously? As if I needed to appear more sheltered and awkward. A few sweet words and my body went into a panic. “It’s okay. You don’t really know me.”

Peter gave me a crooked smile. “The first time my friends and I saw you, we thought you were really cute. They dared me over and over to get your number. I finally did after I quit being a chicken.”

“You? You’re so natural around people.”

He shrugged and webbed his fingers together. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’d rather be home alone with a pizza and maybe a movie. Your nights sound nicer than mine.”

I didn’t believe that for a second, but then I saw tiredness weighing down on his eyes.

“I wish I could invite you over some time, but my aunt…” I stopped and chewed my lip. Any excuse I came up with would sound lame.

“What’s up with that anyway? Are you secretly a celebrity? A criminal?” He emphasized that last bit as a tease.

Haha.

“She doesn’t like people,” I said.

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Is living with her what you want?” he asked, “Or would you rather see what else is out there?”

I felt him turning to face me better. His arm positioned it self behind my back, hand pressing into the mattress. We were so close. Normally, I would’ve freaked out, knowing I needed to keep my distance, but I didn’t want to. I liked being near him.

“I don’t know if I should,” I said.

“What’s that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

When I chuckled, he laughed too. Peter’s eyes took a slow tour about my face. “This is a dumb question, but you’re aware of how pretty you are, right? Like, way out of my league.”

“League?” I asked.

“It’s the hotness hierarchy.”

“Oh. That’s stupid.”

Stupid and totally human. I didn’t mind the compliments, though. It made the butterflies in my chest speed up and hit the walls. My aunt never belittled me but rarely commented on my appearance in any way. So, this was nice.

“It’s stupid, but it’s real,” he said, “Look. I’m nervous around you.”

Peter lifted his shaking hand for me to see. I couldn’t help but snort at his demonstration, adorable as it was. “Now you’re really being silly,” I said.

“Damn. Maybe you’ll believe me one day.” The way he said that like we’d see each other again made the mood melancholy. For me, anyway; knowing that might never happen.

“Maybe one day,” I repeated.

“Thanks for braving tonight,” he said, “It’s cool finally hanging out with the mystery girl.”

“Is that my big selling point?”

His eyes dropped to my lips, and my heart stopped. “One of them. What do you think of me after meeting my friends?”

“They’re… pleasant.” I couldn’t focus on anything with his face getting closer with every breath. “Especially the one with the third nipple. He told me many times.”

“Yeah, Josh is pretty proud of that.”

What would Peter think if he found out my only friend was my aunt? And the cats. They were technically strays that ate at our house, but they were the only company she allowed.

“I think you’re a nice person,” I said, and avoided bringing up the cats.

Peter sat quietly for a moment. Something about the seconds of promise ticking by thrilled me. His eyelids dropped about half way as he examined my face some more. The fateful moment had arrived.

What the hell was I supposed to do next?

I didn’t know if relationships were even realistic for me. Any semblance of a dating life would have to take place after my aunt fell asleep. Peter might not enjoy that. He could find a normal girl with parents who’d adore him. But I wanted to be selfish.

That’s what demons were good at, after all.

Just once, I wanted to give in to my inherited sin. People sinned all the time. What was the worst that could happen? I turned my head, hoping to give him some sort of signal. Would he hate kissing me since I wasn’t experienced? My bravery took a backseat and I could hear Hell roaring with laughter.

Everything changed when Peter brought himself in. He kept our lips from touching, just barely. I stopped breathing but forced myself to close the half inch from him. His lips were soft and warm, like sweet tea on a sunny day.

I migrated deeper into him, pushing against his face to feel more of his lips. Peter responded by sliding his hand up my thigh and stopping at my hip again. Holy crap . My skin begged for attention too with pestering little tingles. I didn’t even know how or what to ask for. Asking for anything sounded too stressful, but Peter acted like he understood what I wanted better than I did.

The hem of my shirt lifted, and he explored my flesh with all five fingertips. The tickling should’ve had me kicking like a rabbit, but I endured the pleasant torture. Peter’s next kiss de livered a hunger less timid than the last. To avoid breaking my neck backward from the force, I held his shoulders with my, still gloved, hands.

I couldn’t tell if my lips moved correctly, or if they had at all. When his wet tongue glided across my mouth, my eyes popped open. I knew people kissed that way but… holy. His mouth tasted like the peppermint candies we’d eat during the holidays.

Peter grew more aggressive with each following kiss. The heat I felt building from his core warmed my toes and numbed my brain. We kept going until my lips felt raw. When I pulled away, gasping for air, he dove back in like fish deprived of water.

Should it have been that intense with someone I barely knew?

The thrill of the moment turned my concerns fuzzy, but didn’t dispel them completely. Somehow, I ended up on top of him. He pulled me down against his chest with all his human strength. His tantalizing hands felt for my shirt again and lifted higher that time in some urgent race.

A wave of unease crept to the shore, and I almost stopped everything. The idea of being in only a bra made me want to hide, but Peter’s feverish desires pushed the insecurities away. Everywhere he gripped, more sparks blossomed. Maybe my hesitations came from trying something new? I let him pull the fabric off and toss it to the side.

It was incredible, like finally being bold enough to bite the forbidden fruit. The longer we kissed, the more energized I felt, which seemed backward considering how much we were moving. All awkwardness from the party be damned. I could’ve taken on a hundred parties with hundreds more people. Maybe, I’d even go home that night and tell Naomi I wanted to change my life.

Why had I waited so long to feel someone?

That answer reared its ugly head when Peter’s sudden cough shook me from my fantasy.

“Is this too much?” I asked, raising myself away from him, “Peter?”

His eyes were wide. I felt him going rigid beneath me. His hands curled into fists, no longer touching me. My insides turned to ice. The heat of the moment frosted over in seconds.

“Peter?” I waited for a response.

None came.

I removed myself and dropped my ear to his lips. No airflow. I pushed hard on his chest with both hands. “Peter? Come on…”

Had he been deathly allergic to something? Cats? I had no degree in romance but dying didn’t seem like a normal response to intimacy.

This was my fault.

Had to be.

But my gloves never came off. I took my stupid medicine, that tastes like dirt and hot dog water, like I did everyday. Everything I could do to prevent myself from harming him, or anyone, I did!

Naomi warned me about being close to humans.

Demons hurt people. I was stronger in ways I didn’t fully understand. All she ever said was “no.” Don’t seek it. Don’t acknowledge it. Don’t act on it. But accidents were common, especially for a half-demon who grew up with a witch mother.

Only half, but apparently it was just enough damnation to require my own set of rules. Wear gloves, take medicine, and stay a safe distance from others. That was all I had to do, and still I’d screwed up. Big time.

My crimes wouldn’t be taken lightly by our angel-run gov ernment. Even if Peter survived. That was why my aunt had chosen Haverwick as our hiding spot and tried living as humanly as possible. I was in deep, stinking shi —

Peter’s sudden sharp gasp flooded me with relief.

“Peter! Thank gods,” I laugh-cried, looking more manic by the second. His blue eyes shut halfway, still unable to focus on me. I frantically searched the room for my phone. Shit. Of course, it died. I chucked the blank screen away. Where had Peter put his phone? I felt his pockets and searched his dresser. Nothing.

The house had been filled with guests but when I shouted for help, no one came. Music still played from the living room below. Someone had to be around.

I rolled Peter onto his side. “Wait here and don’t you dare die!”

Peter responded by twitching like a fish on dry land. Still in a bra, I snatched a flannel that hung from the doorknob before bolting out of the room.

How long did I have until a reaper showed up?

Peter was alive so I hoped they wouldn’t come, but I’d heard that reapers worked efficiently. Something about making a swift end to our suffering. Very few encounters had ever been reported involving reapers. They appeared silently, like smoke through the cracks in your door, wore masks of bone, and carried their signature scythe.

I don’t know who decided a scythe through the chest was merciful, but I guess it beat living inside a rotting corpse, trapped in a skeletal prison of torment forever.

Gods… The morbid thoughts rushed through my brain as I scrambled down the stairs. Peter’s flannel that I had stolen remained unbuttoned all the way down. I didn’t care. All of his friends had phones. I witnessed plenty of them taking videos of themselves earlier.

My heart pounded in my ears. Had the party gone eerily silent? Would they assume I’d hurt Peter on purpose? I managed to get one of the buttons of the shirt closed after reaching the last step. The lack of bodies in the living room did nothing for my nerves or Peter’s mortality.

“Someone?” I tried again. “We need to call an ambulance!”

Where the hell had they gone?

Tipped-over beer cans and soda bottles still littered the floor. I crunched pretzel crumbs beneath my shoes, amongst other snack residues. Some of the furniture had been knocked over and books were thrown from their perches. But no guests. Had I scared them away with my yelling?

Some friends, Peter. Not like I had any to compare to.

Then, faint screams came from the front yard. No one should’ve been shrieking in terror at a party. However, a full moon had taken over the sky. A lot of weirdness happened during full moons. Could a rogue werewolf have crashed? Possible. Technically, a demon— me —had crashed the party too.

The front door creaked, hanging partly ajar. Blood painted the white porch in red streaks. Had some drunken idiot cut himself or had my werewolf theory been correct? Half scared, and half annoyed, I stormed out to find someone.

A looming shadow made from thick clouds cast itself over the little town of Haverwick. Still, I spotted Peter’s many guests. All of them either stumbled in the dark or ran down the street like their lives depended on it.

It took me a second to locate the source of everyone’s distress. A large figure hunched over the curb, making sharp, jerking movements as it struggled to stand. Even from the poor angle I had from where I stood, I could see inhuman features about it.

Then, I smelled it. The heavy mixture of burning stone, iron, and rotting meat.

Magic and death.

When the enigmatic mass lifted its head I gasped at what hid beneath the mop of peppery hair. It wasn’t human but… human s. Three faces melded into one enormous head. Limbs were scattered about its body like a spider manifested from a nightmare. A fat jade ring rested on a single pale finger that stood out from the fleshy masses.

Its swollen head hung heavily from its shoulders, barely able to lift in my direction. Each of its six eyes emitted a haunting, white glow. Gargled growls escaped through its many mouths. Blood had already stained its teeth. Whose blood?

My jaw snapped shut when I found one of the Joshes I’d met earlier. Not all of him, though, only pieces, and a red smear on the sidewalk.