Skyler

I stared at the human-shaped indent in the pumpkin patch. Just moments ago, the demon had been lying there—arrogant, naked, and impossibly smug—and then he'd dissolved into nothingness, leaving me with more questions than answers.

How did I manage to summon a demon? And more importantly, how did I send him back?

The wind whispered through the garden, shaking the brittle leaves above me. I shivered, crossing my arms over myself, wondering if I'd ever see him again—and if I even wanted to.

Behind me, I heard Grandma's footsteps crunching against the autumn leaves. She came hobbling down the garden path with all the enthusiasm of a woman half her age.

"Where is he?" she demanded, her gaze sweeping the garden with laser focus, like a heat-seeking missile in a fur hat.

"He left," I said quietly, not taking my eyes off the patch of dirt.

Her shoulders sagged dramatically, and she threw her hands toward the sky in frustration. "Damn my vanity! I wasted precious minutes in the bathroom putting in my false teeth before grabbing the camera. Do you know, I've not seen a naked man's bottom in the flesh since ninety-two?"

Sometimes I wondered how we were even related.

"I was in New Orleans with Mavis for Mardi Gras," she added, with a nostalgic sigh. "Oh boy, did we get some beads."

"Grandma," I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

She ignored me completely, inching closer with a conspiratorial glint in her eye. "So? What did you think of him? Handsome? Did he give you butterflies in your stomach?"

"There is something wrong with you," I muttered.

Grandma shrugged, entirely unapologetic. "I just need to know if he was a looker."

"I guess," I said reluctantly, not wanting to give too much away.

The truth was, I couldn't stop thinking about him—not because of his sharp jawline or his stupidly perfect abs, but because he was a demon. A demon with my name tattooed across his chest.

Grandma misinterpreted my silence as bashfulness. She patted my shoulder with a knowing smile. "It's alright, girl. This one may have gotten away, but there'll be plenty more opportunities to meet fellas like him."

"I hope not," I muttered under my breath.

We returned to the cabin in an awkward silence, and I spent the rest of the morning buried in our family's collection of spell tomes and grimoires. I flipped through page after page, but there was nothing. No mention of demons, no spells to banish them, no clue how I had managed to summon one in the first place.

Our books were the work of hedge witches—grounded in nature, not Hell. They were filled with recipes for herbal salves, charms, and guidance on how to appease forest spirits. None of them had a single word about summoning infernal beings or what to do once they were standing naked in your pumpkin patch.

By lunchtime, my frustration was boiling over, and Grandma announced it was time to head into town.

The drive was uneventful, save for the usual symphony of creaks and groans from Grandma's ancient VW Beetle. She swore she couldn't hear the rattling, but I could feel it in my bones. As we wound through the misty forest, I stared out at the towering pines, half-expecting Rayne to materialise from the shadows.

When we arrived, the usual stares and whispers greeted us. Grandma soaked it all in, parading down the street with the confidence of someone who hadn't been the subject of town gossip for decades. Her oversized fur hat and golden pyramid pendant swayed with every exaggerated step.

"I'll be an hour. I need to get my eyes tested and speak to Marge," she announced with a wink. "Why don't you hit the bars and see if you can find your young man?"

"I'm going to the bookshop," I replied flatly, already walking in the opposite direction.

Grandma sighed dramatically. "A man is not going to fall out the sky into your lap, Skyler," she muttered, loud enough for half the street to hear, before turning on her heel and heading toward the general store.

Oh, if only she knew...

The local bookshop was small but comforting, its shelves crammed with dusty hardcovers and faded paperbacks. I placed an order for books on summoning demons and black magic, doing my best to keep my voice casual. The shopkeeper, thankfully, didn't ask any questions.

"The books should arrive in a few days," she said with a polite smile as she wrote down my request.

"Thanks," I replied, already wondering how I was going to survive until then.

As I stepped out of the shop, the cool afternoon air prickling my skin, the sound of laughter drew my attention. A group of men stood outside a bar across the street, their voices loud and grating. They were staring at me, their smirks wide as they whispered to each other.

My stomach tightened. I lowered my gaze and hurried down the street, pretending I hadn't noticed them.

The laughter followed me, closer now, and the sound of heavy footsteps made my heart sink. I quickened my pace, but before I could escape, a rough hand yanked at my cloak.

A burst of wild laughter erupted behind me.

"Leave me alone," I said, spinning to face them. They stood around me in a half circle, stinking of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke.

"Or what, Wednesday Addams?" A man in the red plaid shirt sneered at me.

"I'll call the police," I said, taking a step back.

"You're not going to the police," Red Shirt replied, grabbing my arm with a bruising grip. "You're coming with us."

Before I could scream, he dragged me into a narrow alley, his friends following close behind like a pack of wolves scenting blood. I thrashed against his grip, but his strength far outweighed mine.

He shoved me hard against the brick wall, the rough surface scraping my back through my shirt. My cloak was ripped from my shoulders and discarded carelessly on the filthy ground.

"Let me see what's under that cloak," he panted, his breath hot and sour against my face as he pressed his body against mine.

"Get off me!" I screamed, but my voice cracked with panic.

The slap came fast, his hand clamping down over my mouth with brutal force.

"Play nice, sugar, and I won't hurt you," he growled, his tone low and dangerous.

My heart thundered in my chest, drowning out the sound of his friends jeering behind him. Terror froze me in place, locking my limbs and stealing the breath from my lungs. My mind screamed at me to fight back, to do something, but my body refused to move.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for the inevitable.

A cool breeze swept across my face, carrying with it a deep, dark voice, rich with disdain.

"Gentlemen," it purred, "please excuse us."

My eyes snapped open. It was Rayne.