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"I'm just saying. Maybe it's just a demon that looks really similar. There are people who live across the world from each other but could pass as twins. It's all a toss of the dice. Genetics. It's random."

"Sable." Juliet shot me a deadpan stare. "Denial is not helping."

"I'm offering possibilities. If we focus only on one possible explanation, we'll end up missing the big picture. There issuch a thing as confirmation bias, and—"

"Sable. You're being preyed on by Asmodeus, Prince of Lust, a first class demon lord. As soon as you accept that, we can move forward."

I slammed my face down into my hands and dragged my palms sideways, trying to calm the storm of a headache blossoming deep in my skull. Juliet had shut down every single one of my objections for the past two minutes without even hearing me out. I was just trying to keep an open mind. What were the chances that I, someone who hadn't even touched magic in ten years, was suddenly getting stalked by one of the most powerful entities in the demonic realm? It just didn't make sense. I had nothing to offer. I had nothing I even wanted. Demons only targeted humans with hungry souls that craved more than they possessed, hollow vessels that made for perfect prey. I was the furthest thing from that.

It couldn't be true. I refused to accept this so easily, not like Juliet. It was simple for her since she wasn't the one whose soul hung in the balance; she had no reason to fight this.

But I had to. Because if it was true, if I was marked by a Demon Prince...

Then there was no hope.

I was going to be dragged down into whatever level of hell existed for those who made soul contracts with demons, and it wasn't even my fault.

"There has to be a way out of this." I pulled my hands away, took a deep breath, and repositioned the book so I could keep flipping through the pages. "I never entered into any contract willingly, so if I was coerced somehow, then there has to be a loophole that I can use to get out of it. If I even need a loophole at all. Demonic contracts need to be made willingly, otherwise it holds no power over the victim as soon as they realize what's going on."

"Correct. Usually. But I don't have to tell you again that these are circumstances beyond the norm. We'll wait for my colleagues to touch base with me, and we'll compile any known historical precedent for your situation. I don't sense any demonic anchors set inside you, and when I examined you earlier, I didn't find a single speck that was suspicious. That alone is already peculiar. Any contact with a demon, especially prolonged exposure such as the nightly visits you've been experiencing, should have irrevocably tainted your body and soul already."

"Well, it hasn't, so that's a positive," I said firmly. "And the probability that I'm the only one in the world who's ever experienced this is astronomically low. Someone has to know something, somewhere."

"We'll see... and like I said earlier, the ongoing Faustian movement is worth looking into. There are rumors that they've found a way for humans to compensate for their lack of innate magic so they can still execute higher-rank spells. I'm sure I don't have to explain why that's so dangerous. But the movement has already spread into some large communities, and there have been a lot of unpredictable effects reported to the Coven. That might be our best lead for now, though I can't imagine how some misled Faustians could have accidentally summoned a Prince to impress into contract service, much less got him to target you."

"I don't know much about the Faustians. I know the name, and that they're humans who advocate for free knowledge, but I didn't know there was a revival happening."

"Neither did we until this year. And there are witches and warlocks who are part of the movement, just so you know, which makes them all the more dangerous. Nothing is riskier than someone wielding magic without the proper education and care. But this isn't a history lesson, so I'll spare you. The point is, Faustians are more determined than ever to globally disseminate magic and make it available to human governments and societies. Now, imagine if they could find a way to summon and bind a Prince. Imagine the wars that would be won in the blink of an eye, the control the human master would have over the entire world. This is immensely dangerous, Sable. I'm sorry, and I know you must have your reasons for separating from the community, but if we fail to make headway by tomorrow, we'll have no choice but to report this to the Coven."

I paled.

The Coven. Thirteen witches headed by the Chief Practitioner, or more commonly called the Witch General. They presided over any cases in the United States that failed arbitration attempts in the lower courts. Or, in this case, cases for which there were no precedent and were significant enough to deserve a non-stop flight straight to the Coven's undivided attention. Being victimized by a Demon Prince was up there, probably.

But the last time my family had dealt with the Coven, they had stricken our name from the records as punishment for abandoning the witch community, and for not ensuring the continuation of our bloodline magic into the next generation. The first strike had come when my grandmother and mother refused to arrange a future marriage for me when I was a little girl. The second strike had come when they rejected all 'honorable proposals' arranged by the Coven several years later. The third and last strike came when our family broke our Coven charter completely and went underground, cutting off all contact with our peers without formal leave.

Of course, the Coven thought we did it out of spite. They had no idea what the real reason behind our self-exile was.

Either way, they were not going to be happy to see me. Or conversely, they might be a little too happy.

No. Not on my watch.

I'd made a promise, and I'd be damned before I let my new life melt around me like a cheese house in a microwave.

"How do we get in touch with a Faustian?" I asked. "I have an idea, if we can get a hold of someone."

"It won't be easy, but I do have some friends in low places I might be able to ask for a favor from." Juliet squinted. "You'll have to tell me this plan in detail, though. Dealing with fringe groups will get us in trouble. You know that."

"Right, but hear me out..."

Later, Juliet gestured for me to follow her and rushed off so we could speak with one of her 'friends in low places'. We passed by an oval mirror with antique trim, a strange addition to a library, if anyone asked me.

But stranger still was the gleam of red I thought I spotted as I passed it.

I froze, looked back. Did I imagine that or...

I hung back for a moment, reexamining the reflective surface with narrowed eyes. But nothing. It must have been a trick of the mind.

When I turned away, I glimpsed another streak of red in the corner of my eye.

This time, I pretended not to see it.

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