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“Three. Two patrols, one on the door. All Demons.”

“See, sister?” Lilith cooed. “How many shoe factories have armed Demons patrolling them at night?”

Willow just shrugged. “Maybe the really expensive ones. Like, designer shoes.” She chewed on her lip for a moment. “I’ve never fought a Demon before.”

“They’re easy,” Joy assured her. “They’re the weakest of all the Factions, furthest from the Goddess. Some of them can summon up a little elemental power, but it’s nothing compared to what we can do.”

Willow was shaking her head. “I heard they were like… all-powerful. Like… ‘pull your skeleton right out of your body’ powerful.”

“Those are just fairytales.” Lilith rolled her eyes. “Scary stories to keep Witches up at night. If they were ever really that powerful, they sure as shit aren’t anymore, especially the ones here in the city.”

“All the powerful Demons live in the eighth octant,” Joy explained. “Far away from here. And even then, I doubt they’re even close to as powerful as the stories say they are. Trust me, little sis. This will be easy.”

“Okay. Okay.” Willow took a deep breath and smiled. “So… what’s the plan?”

It was her first assignation with them all. And, as expected, Joy was in the mood to show off.

“Do you have eyes on the closest patrol?” Joy asked, glancing at Fey. The corner of her mouth curved into a smile.

Fey nodded. The Demon was slowly making his way around the building toward them and would be nearly directly below them in a few seconds.

Joy turned to Willow with a sparkling smile. “Ready to see our Fey in action?” she asked.

Willow’s eyes widened, and Fey took a deep breath, closing her eyes and letting herself sink into her power. Relaxing her body, she let herself become a vessel.

Water. It was the element of life. The element of healing. But every creation from the Goddess has its shadow, its mirrored counterpart, and since life could never exist without water, it was, in its absence, just as easily an element of death.

The air was cold around them, the first touch of winter. But more importantly, the night was wet. It had rained earlier, and the air was heavy with it.

Water and air. Fey breathed them in, her power rejoicing under her skin.

The Demon was coming. His steps echoed in the dark alley below them. Twenty feet away. Fifteen. Ten.

Eyes closed, entirely focused, Fey could almost see him. She could hear his steps, his heartbeat, his breath. He took a deep inhale, filling his lungs with the cold night air.

Throat first, Fey thought. It was a trick she’d learned early on. Take out the throat, and they can’t call for help. Can’t scream while she takes them out, piece by piece.

Perfectly still, eyes closed, Fey commanded the water in the Demon’s body to freeze.

Willow watched, wide-eyed, as the Demon below them stopped. He made a noise like he was choking, reaching his hands up to his throat. But he didn’t scream, didn’t yell to raise the alarm as he scratched at the outside of his throat, fingernails raking rivets into his skin, drawing lines of blood.

“Our bodies are over 60% water,” Fey whispered, eyes still closed as she concentrated. The Demon’s throat was fully frozen now, but she wasn’t done. The ice spread down his larynx, creeping into the soft tissue of his lungs. “Did you know that, little sister?”

Willow swallowed audibly.

Fey could feel him suffocating, could hear him thrashing against the ground. The ice continued to spread. It filled the tiny spaces in his lungs, turning the tissue into ice. It coated his heart, slowing the frantic beating and spreading to the inner chambers. It spread up his arteries, creeping into his brain, through veins and capillaries.

The ice had started to creep into his fingertips when his heart gave one final, feeble jolt and stopped. The Demon’s body slumped to the ground, curled around himself, ice crystals forming delicate patterns on his lips.

When Fey finally opened her eyes and looked at Willow, she wasn’t surprised by the horror she saw in her sister’s face. Not surprised, but maybe a little disappointed. Hurt. But this was the truth of what she was. This was the truth of her power.

“I didn’t know Water Witches could do that,” Willow said, softly.

“They can’t,” Lilith answered. “At least, no one’s ever heard of it before.”

“Our Fey is one of a kind,” Joy crooned, her voice full of pride.

Willow considered this. Considered Fey, and the half-frozen body in the alley. Then she smiled.