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I mean Hell literally broke loose.

Michael made me black out and when I woke up, he was gone and so was Dex. Only Perry and I remained. We immediately hopped on a plane to New York to get Dex back, who we figured had been manhandled by Michael. And my parents, once they learned where we’d gone, did the same. That brought everyone to Manhattan like one big happy family. Except we weren’t happy—we were being used and manipulated by a demon that had possessed Michael a long time ago. Me, my mother, Perry, Dex, and his friend Maximus all ended up in the house that Michael and Dex grew up in, a place that wasn’t a house at all but a portal to Hell, existing in its own horrific reality.

My mother wasn’t the only one lost thanks to Michael’s demon. Maximus died as well. And we were all forever changed.

Look, I never said my backstory was easy.

Or normal.

“If that is Michael, or whatever demon it was who possessed him,” Perry whispers, “Dex has nothing to fear. He has defeated him once, he could do it again.”

“Perry, Dex died,” I point out, even though I’m sure she never needs reminding of that horrible moment when she found him lifeless on the floor in the house of Hell. “He made the same sacrifice that mom made, only you were able to go in and get him out, bring him back to life.”

She falls silent and I feel I’ve hit a nerve. “Not that you would have been able to do that with mom,” I quickly add.

She just nods, swallowing thickly. “Dex will be fine. But you, you won’t be.”

Normally I would protest over something like that, get defensive or find it belittling, but in this case Perry is right and I’m not about to argue.

I’m not fine at all.

And I don’t fall asleep, no matter that Dex is in my room, no matter if I’m safe here or not. I just can’t.

My mind keeps playing it all over and over again. The dream, the pond, my mother’s words. The thing in my room. The closet.

Jay.

He could be a ghost, I could be going insane.

But there was no doubt he was in my room.

A dream brought to life.

CHAPTER SIX

I don’t know how long I lie there in the bed beside Perry, praying for that first show of dim morning light, the sign that you’ve made it, that you’re going to be okay.

It doesn’t seem to come, though. I can hear Perry’s soft snoring, and if anything the room grows darker as the night wears on.

Finally I get up, wanting a glass of water.

I slowly ease of bed, careful not to wake Perry. I stand there, trying to figure out whether I should go to bathroom or kitchen, both equally creepy on nights like this, when a light illuminates my face.

I glance at the window that looks straight into the upstairs window of one of the Knightlys’ rooms.

A man is staring right at me, backlit by sickly fluorescent lights.

Jay.

We stand there, gazes locked, before he breaks the spell, turning around quickly and disappearing into the depths of the house.

Oh no he fucking doesn’t.

I don’t even think twice. As quietly and quickly as I can, I head for the door and down the stairs until I’m bursting out onto the front lawn. I’m about to head straight over to the Knightlys when I see a man walking down the street away from the houses. He’s wearing a dark jacket, hands shoved in the pockets, taking long strides, his head down.

I’m barefoot in just a skimpy white t-shirt and my boy-short underwear (with sugar skulls on them, naturally) and yet I couldn’t care less because I hustle over to the street and then start running down it after the man.

“Hey!” I call out, my bare feet echoing on the pavement.

He stops, the glow of the streetlight illuminating him in dim orange. He doesn’t turn around.

“Look at me,” I tell him, stopping a few feet away. “Tell me what’s going on. Who are you? Why were you in the Knightlys’ house?”

“I’m a family friend,” he says, his voice low.

“That’s what they all say,” I tell him, taking a step closer. Whatever fear I had is gone. I want answers above all else and I want them now.

“Turn around,” I tell him.

He doesn’t. A hot breeze whistles past, ruffling his hair, making it glint blood red in the streetlight.

I put my hand on his arm, somewhat surprised to find him solid, and pull back, turning him around.

He stares down at me and I’m suddenly very aware of how real he is, how tall and well-built, like he’s about to pull up a tree by the roots. The sharp bones of his face create shadows in this light, his eyes looking deeper, darker, the hollows beneath his cheekbones carved out.