Page 41 of A Summoned Husband

I hopped in place, my free hand shaking beside me as I tried to figure out what to do.

“Okay, Eden. You’re in your head, girl. You’re just in your head. That’s all this is. You’re too grown to be hearing boogeymen and all that.” I put the bottle to my lips and chugged before I walked down the hall.

This was a bad idea.

I was not some hot co-ed with no damn sense like in the movies that was going to investigate the noise. Nope. No way.

Bang.

I screamed.

My shoulders shot up around my ears when I heard another sound from upstairs.

“Hell fucking no!” I pulled open the closet door in the hall and went in. I squatted underneath my seasonal gear, crawling to the back as I gripped the bottle tighter. I wasn’t going to drink anymore, but I was going to swing it like I was some important baseball player if anyone opened that door.

If I was going out, I was going to go out swinging.

“Eden,” my name was drawn out. It was the sound of stretched fear sung down the hall. Eerie in its pitch. Too high and too low at the same time. Two voices speaking at once.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

My hand ran over my pants before I mentally cursed myself for leaving my phone in my bag by the door.

Like it mattered. Even if I had my phone, it wasn’t like I would want anyone I know to come and save me and the police would take too long.

“Eden.” The voice was coming from upstairs and… my brow dropped as realization slapped me in the face. It was monstrous but feminine. It wasn’t Asmodeus.

Who the fuck was it?

My heart was hammering in my chest as I squeezed the bottle so hard in my hands I wondered if the bottle would shatter. If I was strong enough to break this damn bottle, maybe I stood a chance against whoever was in my house.

Was I going to die? In a fucking closet?

The emotions that went through me were more than fear. There was guilt in knowing I didn’t listen to the girls or Abuela and stayed in the city for the night. There was anguish realizing this could be it. I wasn’t going to do any more travelling or girls’ nights. No more dinners with Gran and Abuela.

I wasn’t going to see my mom again. Something I had been putting off for years, something I wasn’t even sure if I was ready for or wanted to do, but now I felt sad knowing I would never get the chance.

My eyes glassed over and I blew out a quiet breath as something else banged.

Whatever was moving around my house was loud.

A demon, maybe? Did we summon more than one? Was I married to more than one? I shook the thought away, realizing how full of myself I was being. Not every summoned demon would end up being my husband. Obviously.

My hand traced the key in my chest. I was married to a demon… that had to mean something, right? I wasn’t weathered in the ways of demons by any means, but a marriage had to mean something. The key in my chest had to mean something.

Bang.

I jumped and clamped my hand over my mouth as the noises drew closer and closer to the closet that was currently my haven.

Fuck!

No… fuck this. I’m not going to die in a fucking closet. No.

The door opened and orange eyes bore down at me. It was no one but a shadow. Black mist held into the shape of a huge person as it leaned toward me. Hands planted on the floor, and though they were nothing but darkness, claw marks carved into the wood. Heat blew at my face making sweat dampen my brow. I leaned back as I held my breath. The eyes were too large and boring right into me.

The shadows moved in weird flutters. As though a thousand black wings moved quickly in its depths. A creature made of smaller creatures.

Of… moths.