Demon Lover

by Heather Guerre

  “Which would have been understandable when you were sharing the life that you built together,” Irdu said, brows drawing together. “But you’re no longer sharing that life. You deserve to have your portion of what you built.”

  “If I go after him, I’m just going to look like a scorned woman trying to get back at her ex.”

  “He deserves your scorn. He’s a snake and he used you. He’s living the high life off your work. He owes his success to that work. And you’re just going to let him walk away with it?”

  “He doesn’t owe his success to me. He owns a software company, and he’s a computer scientist. I’m just someone with a good eye for color.”

  Irdu scowled. “You told me weeks ago that his company didn’t take off until you improved all the visuals.”

  Autumn shrugged. “He’s succeeding because his product is excellent. I just made it so people noticed the product and took it seriously.”

  “And you deserve to be compensated for doing that.”

  “I don’t disagree with you. But we’re just back to my original point—regardless of what’s fair or true, public perception will still be that I’m a gold-digger trying to stick it to my wealthy, successful ex.”

  Irdu caught her by the shoulders, looking furiously into her eyes. “So what, Autumn? The public can choke on their self-righteous idiocy. At least you’ll get the credit—and the money—you deserve.”

  She sighed. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t afford the kind of lawyers that would have any hope of taking on Dylan’s legal team.”

  “Find a lawyer who’ll work on contingency.”

  Autumn regarded him skeptically. “Are you a sex demon or a legal expert?”

  Irdu smiled. “I’ve been around for a long time, love. I know a thing or two about humans. Until I met you, I had a lot of spare time to spend reading, observing, and learning.”

  Autumn batted her eyelashes coquettishly. “Oh, I’m sorry, have I been keeping you from your studies? However shall I make it up to you?”

  Irdu grinned down at her, leaning in for a kiss, when he suddenly jolted back, frowning. “Don’t change the subject! You have to go after what’s yours! You cannot just lay down and cede all of your power to someone who doesn’t deserve it! Someone who has only hurt you and—”

  “Okay.”

  “—will only continue to take advantage of… what?”

  “Okay. I’ll do it. After the new year, I’ll find a lawyer to help me get what Apollo Tech owes me.”

  They regarded each other quietly for a moment, each coming to an understanding about the other. Autumn recognized that Irdu needed her to seek justice that he could not seek for himself. He knew that she was agreeing to it solely for that reason. None of it needed to be said out loud.

  “So.” Autumn twirled towards the kitchen. “I did a little more cooking. I thought maybe you could humor me again and eat Christmas dinner with me?”

  Irdu followed her, leaning over her shoulder to look at the various pans and dishes spread on the counter. “What’s all this?”

  “Well, there’s still all of yesterday’s leftovers. But today I also roasted a small chicken, some broccoli, and carrots.” She tapped each pan with a dramatic flourish. “Protein! And vitamins!” She was going to smother the chicken with gravy, the broccoli had been liberally coated in garlic butter and grated parmesan, and the carrots were dressed with honey and rosemary. So, not healthy, per se. But definitely more nutritious than yesterday’s carbohydrate spectacular.

  Not that she was forgetting the carbs. She had yesterday’s leftovers heated up—mashed potatoes, gravy, biscuits, and the rest of the pumpkin pie waiting for later. “I also made some cut-out cookies.” She showed him the tray with a dozen Santa-shaped cookies iced and decorated. “I used to make them with my grandma every year. After she died, I kept making them on my own. Usually I make a lot more, because I’d give some to friends, and bring some into work, but these past two years…” Anger tightened her throat. “Anyway, even if you don’t eat any, you can behold their excellence with your eyes.”

  Irdu picked up one of the Santa cookies, examining the elaborate icing job. “These are works of art.”

  She grinned. “I know.”

  “They’re beautiful. How does anybody ever eat them?”

  “That’s what everybody always says. So I usually make a big show of biting Santa’s head off.” She giggled, remembering the way her friend Liz had screamed the first time she’d seen Autumn do it. “They always get eaten pretty quickly after that.”

  To Autumn’s surprise, Irdu lifted the cookie to his mouth and bit Santa’s head clean off. He grinned, fangs smeared with red icing. Autumn let out a peal of laughter and set to making plates for both of them. Again, she only put small samples of everything on Irdu’s plate. But tonight, instead of poking at it and only trying little nibbles, he cleared his plate.

  “Would you like more?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

  “Would you like me to eat more?”

  Some of her joy deflated. He wasn’t eating more food because he was becoming more human. He was just trying to make her happy. Still, the fact that he cared enough to bother made her feel loved, so she shook her head and helped herself to a second slice of pumpkin pie.

  “Do you want to get dressed and go for a walk?” Autumn asked as she ate the last bite of pie. “We can go look at the Christmas lights.”

  Irdu wiped a smudge of whipped cream from the corner of her mouth and licked it from his thumb. “Let’s go.”

  He was in the process of pulling on his cargo pants when Autumn’s phone lit up. She glanced at it, and sighed.

  Irdu looked up. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just have to take this call.” She brought the phone to her ear. “Hey, Mom. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas, Autumn. How have you been?”

  Every year, there was an obligatory Christmas call with her mother in which they both asked stilted questions about each other’s lives, wished each other well, and then said goodbye with mutual relief. This year’s call went infinitely smoother than last year’s, when Autumn realized she had failed to tell her mother that she and Dylan had broken up six months prior.

  Regardless of how well the calls with her mother went, they always left Autumn feeling hollowed out. She’d like to give them up entirely. She dreamed of saying, “Listen, you don’t care about me. It’s obvious. Let’s save ourselves both the time and effort, and just stop trying.” But you can’t say those sorts of things to your mother. So the calls continued.

  Irdu, half-dressed, sensed her disquiet and drifted over to her while she listened to her mom talk about her stepdaughter’s recent engagement.

  “Oh. Wow. That’s great. Give Maggie my congratulations, okay?” Her mother had never been able to remember Dylan’s name when they were together—calling him Devon, Declan, Damien, Dermot—and while she knew his company had something to do with tech, she never seemed to understand that he made software, not physical computers. In contrast, she knew everything about Maggie’s fiancé from his childhood nickname to his favorite color.

  “He sounds great,” Autumn said, with adequately feigned interest. “Maggie must be so happy with him.”

  Irdu’s big hand landed on the nape of her neck and squeezed gently.

  “So…” Her mother paused, and Autumn knew the most painfully awkward part of the conversation was coming. “What are you doing today?”

  Last year, filled with bitterness, she’d bluntly told her mother that she was having an orphan’s Christmas, since she had nobody else to spend it with. She’d regretted the words immediately. This year, the warmth of Irdu’s presence steadied her, and she was able to calmly say, “I’m spending the day with a friend. We just had a big dinner. Now we’re going to go see the Christmas lights.”

  “Oh, good.” Her mom sounded genuinely relieved. Last year’s bluntness had made an impact, apparently. “You know, you’re welcome
to spend Christmas with us. We’d love to have you.”

  No, they wouldn’t. The words rang of forced politeness.

  “That’d be great. Maybe next year.”

  “Definitely!” her mom said, too brightly. “Well, I’ll let you go enjoy the Christmas lights. Talk to you later.”

  “Bye, mom.”

  Autumn set her phone face down and turned away from it. Irdu still had a hand on her shoulder, his eyes full of sympathy. “Do you still want to go for a walk?”

  “Yeah.”

  They got dressed and went out. Irdu kept a comforting arm around Autumn’s shoulders as they wandered the streets. A few blocks over, there was a street where all the houses always went all-out with their Christmas displays. The entire street was lit up like daylight—if daylight were a kaleidoscope of colors, blinking and strobing and swirling over every surface. Even behind his sunglasses, Irdu squinted against the brightness.

  While Irdu had become somewhat accustomed to mingling with other people, his excitement at being able to do so was still palpable. Autumn smiled and eased against him as he looked around at all the other people who’d come out to see the lights. Children tugged on their parents’ hands and shrieked their delight at the displays. Couples walked hand in hand, just as she and Irdu were doing. Up the street, a group of carolers were singing O Holy Night.

  They stayed out for a long time, strolling in contented silence. Eventually, the cold got to Autumn. When Irdu noticed she was trying to hide her shivering, he insisted on taking her back home.

  Back at the apartment, they undressed and got into bed. Holding Irdu, letting his warmth seep into her, Autumn let out a happy sigh. This was not the life she’d expected to be living. But it was somehow better. She twisted around, pushing Irdu onto his back and climbing astride him. He caught her hands, rubbing them between his own.

  “You’re still cold.”

  “I’m warming up.” She pulled out of his grasp. “Hands behind your head,” she said with a wolfish grin. Now that she knew how very much he liked being bossed around, she used it to her advantage. “And keep them there.”

  He obeyed, his eyes shifting to black as he watched her inch her way down his body. She teased and tortured him with her fingers and mouth until he came. She felt his climax coast over her tongue, sparkling like champagne, hot like cinnamon. A wave of power, rich and deep, washed through her body. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and darkness enveloped her.

  The cold hit her immediately.

  She stood at the base of the tower this time. Indistinct bodies, sallow and gray, milled around her. When they brushed against her, the cold deepened. It was a relentless burn, eating its way to her very bones. With painful effort, she tilted her head back to survey the tower standing over her. Black stone gleamed, reflecting the fires from the forge. Winged demons circled overhead. Empty-eyed drudges hauled blocks of stone into place, stacking the walls ever higher.

  From the peak of the half-constructed tower, pale white eyes fixed upon Autumn. She felt the gaze like a physical touch, wrapping her in a constricting hold, squeezing the breath from her lungs. The cold became too painful to bear. She wanted to scream, but her throat was frozen.

  Trespasser, a malevolent voice hissed, echoing inside her head. It chased away all other thoughts, swelling against her skull until Autumn thought her head would split open. None may enter who do not pay their fare. How will you pay, trespasser?

  Autumn tried to fight, tried to scream, but her body was immobile, her voice gone. Her only defense was to close her eyes, shutting out the sight of those furious, pale, inhuman eyes. She thought of Irdu, willing her way back to him.

  A faint thread of warmth splintered through the cold. The grip around her lungs eased. She hauled in a gasping breath.

  When she opened her eyes, she was back in her bedroom, back with Irdu, as if no time had passed at all. He was still recovering from his climax, hips rolling beneath her hands, chest heaving with desperate breaths. Autumn opened her mouth, releasing him. When she breathed out, curling blue fog rose from her parted lips.

  The cold burn dissipated from beneath her skin, warmth from Irdu’s body chasing through her. When he lifted his head, the black was fading from his eyes, revealing electric blue irises. But then the unusual blue faded too, revealing brown irises and round, human pupils. The blue leached from his skin, the cuneiform tattoos flickering and vanishing, until he had brown skin and black hair. His fangs and claws receded, leaving flat human teeth and fingernails. His horns vanished.

  Autumn stared at him. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him like this, but it was the first time she’d seen the change happen. And it seemed to be… sticking.

  Food! she remembered. In many of the katabasis myths, the heroes were revived by food and water. She leapt from the bed, filled a glass of water and grabbed a slice of roast chicken.

  “Here!” she pressed the glass into his hand, sloshing it on the bed. “Drink!”

  He gave her a perplexed look. But when he lifted the glass to his mouth, he caught sight of his hand and dropped the glass in shock. Water spilled everywhere. He stared at his hands, mouth agape.

  “Autumn!”

  “I know! Here!” She thrust the chicken at him. “Eat!”

  “What? Why?”

  “Just do it!”

  He chewed the chicken and swallowed it, looking shell-shocked the entire time. Autumn ran to the sink and refilled the glass of water. This time he managed not to drop it, and drank it all down.

  “I don’t know what’s happening. This isn’t a dream state. Is it? Have you put me into a dream state?”

  “I don’t know how to do that.”

  “You’d figure it out.”

  “This is real, Irdu. I don’t know precisely how. But it’s not the first time. This morning, you were human when I woke up. And you stayed here for a few minutes past sunrise. And you looked human for a split-second last night.”

  “Then it’s not permanent.”

  “No, but it’s getting stronger—lasting longer. I’ve been doing some research into Underworld mythology, and I’ve come across—”

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I knew it would upset you. You kept asking if I was going to kill myself before.” She waved away his consternation. “Anyways, in a lot of stories, people who leave the underworld are revived by eating food. So, I’ve been feeding you.”

  Irdu glowered at her.

  “You said it wouldn’t kill you.”

  “You should have told me you were running experiments on me.”

  “I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

  Irdu looked back down at his hands. He whisked the blanket away to look at the rest of his body. He ran his hands along his spine, feeling the smooth place where his tail used to be. He slid his fingers through his hair, rubbing at the spots where his horns normally emerged.

  “I don’t know what this means,” he said shakily.

  “It means we can get you out!”

  He shook his head in disbelief.

  “Seriously, think about it. You told me there’s a ritual for bringing a soul to the Underworld, right? A demon feeds you, marks you, and calls you by your full name?”

  “Something like that,” Irdu muttered evasively.

  “Well, I’ve fed you. I’ve marked you. And I know your real name. But instead of taking you to the Underworld, I’m bringing you here.”

  “It can’t work,” Irdu said. “The soul exchange is just that—an exchange. Nothing’s being exchanged here. Nobody is taking my place.” Sudden alarm crossed his face. He surged forward, catching Autumn’s face between his hands. “You’re still human?” He peered into her eyes, pulled her lip down to examine her teeth, ran his fingers through her hair, feeling for horns.

  “Yes!” She bit at his fingers when he tried to check her teeth again. She got out of bed and started fixing a big plate. “You need to eat while you’re human. As much as you c
an. I think it’s the key to keeping you here.”

  Still looking completely freaked out, Irdu nonetheless accepted the plate she shoved into his hands and began eating.

  “Does it feel any different from when you eat in your demon form?”

  He swiped a slice of roast chicken through mashed potatoes and gravy and shoved it into his mouth. “Yes,” he said through the mouthful. He chewed and swallowed. “It’s… nice. It tastes good.” He ate more. And more. He ate until the crammed plate was emptied.

  “Do you want pie?”

  “Yes.”

  Grinning, Autumn loaded a slice with whipped cream and gave it to him. He ignored the fork she brought and picked it up in one hand, taking giant bites.

  “Good?” Autumn asked.

  He nodded enthusiastically.

  “Help yourself to more. I’ll be right back.” She went to the bathroom and shut the door. Leaning over the sink, she tilted her head to examine the spot beneath her jaw that was still burning with cold.

  She could make out a faint purple shadow beneath her skin, just over her pulse point. She could almost let herself believe it was a bruise. But the shape was too finely angular, composed of interconnecting lines. It was cuneiform. As she stared at it, cold dread washed over her. She recognized that symbol. She’d drawn it from Irdu’s body, and had it translated by Leila Kader.

  Slave.

  She dug in her drawer for concealer and applied it liberally to the mark. When she emerged from the bathroom, Irdu was standing at the stove, still human, picking bits of chicken off the bones. She pulled a hoodie out of her dresser and slid into it, fluffing the hood up around her neck. She knew the mark was unequivocally a very bad thing, but if she told Irdu about it, he’d do something too drastic, like blame himself for it and then let himself dissipate.