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“A warlock?” I stared at her, trying to process, then shook my head. “That’s impossible.”

“You’re telling me,” she said. “There hasn’t been a warlock in what …” She waved her hand, trying to remember.

“Centuries,” I muttered. They were a thing of myth and legend, supes that could supposedly control others.

“But how else do you explain what you’ve done? The bond I have to you?” Her jaw tightened. “The way you … stole my powers.”

“Borrowed,” I said defensively, then frowned. “Is that a warlock thing too?”

“As if you don’t know.” She looked at me like I was full of shit.

Her attitude was really testing my patience after all we’d been through tonight—the horror that was now the uni campus, Emma dead along with dozens if not hundreds of students.

I didn’t even know if Paul was safe, and reached for my phone before I remembered there was no signal.

I still pulled it out and checked; the ‘No Service’ message hadn’t gone away.

I took a deep breath, using all my will to compartmentalize. If I didn’t, I knew I’d spiral. It had just been too much, too fast.

“Listen, Kara,” I said as I pushed my phone back into my pocket and rubbed a hand over my face. “Until today, I hardly had any powers to speak of. I’m not a warlock. I don’t even know what’s happening to me.”

“You’ve tied me to you, that’s what’s happened.

” She turned away, hugging herself. Her corset bodysuit was even more ripped at the back, revealing swathes of sun-kissed skin.

“I can’t fucking believe it. I’m a demon .

I’m of House Val’Shera. My family are going to fucking flip . This can’t be happening!”

“Wait … you’re a Val’Sheran?” They were one of the oldest factions in New Providence—hell, in Old Providence come to that, before it got levelled and rebuilt in the purges of the mid-twentieth century.

Kara ignored me. “My mom is going to go absolutely ballistic. Enslaved? To a warlock ? They’re going to disown me … if they don’t kill me.”

“That seems a little extreme.” I rubbed the back of my neck.

She whirled on me. “You think? What do you know of my family, Master ?”

It really grated the way she kept calling me that while filling the word with all the contempt she could muster. “Even if it’s been centuries since the last warlock—”

“—A millennium, more like—”

“—Whatever. Even without that, I thought succubi liked—”

“I’m not a succubus!” She looked affronted, then looked down at herself. “It’s just a costume . You know? Halloween?”

“Er … right.” I frowned. “The wings? The horns and red eyes? The tail?”

“I’m a Lilim Demon. We serve …” She swallowed hard. “… No one.” She took a step toward me. “You have to undo this. You have to break this … bond . I can’t do this.” Her eyes gleamed with tears. “I can’t be … owned. ”

I spread my hands helplessly. “I don’t even know what’s happened, or why.”

Another step, a pleading look on her face that I was sure was completely alien to this haughty, entitled woman. “Will you at least try?”

I gave a shrug. “Sure, I’ll try.”

“Thank you.” Her expression lifted with hope.

I didn’t like Kara, but that didn’t mean I wanted to enslave her against her will—and if that’s what it was, it sure explained the whole ‘master’ thing.

The very fact I didn’t like her made it less attractive to be bonded to her, not more.

If I had to choose someone, it wouldn’t be her. Hell, I didn’t know who it would be.

Emma probably wouldn’t object, thinking about it. Then again, maybe she would. There was a pretty big step up from contemplating a first date to being bound and owned—for most people, at least.

I looked inwards, exploring the tether between us.

It was as it had always been, a single shadowy tendril between us, half-sensed, half-imagined.

I felt around it carefully, trying to better understand it, but there wasn’t much to see.

No obvious way to unplug it or turn it off.

I give it a mental poke, and Kara gasped.

“Did you feel that?”

“Yes, it was like you … thrummed my life force.” She grimaced, her cheeks flushing.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It didn’t hurt,” she said, a subtle emphasis on the last word, as though it had caused some other effect. Her blush deepened.

Not much help. I went back to focusing on the tether, closing my eyes and frowning as I concentrated on it.

I knew I could draw from her—I’d done that much when I borrowed her powers.

I tried that again, experimentally, a little tug down the line connecting us.

Her power levels dipped, and I felt stronger, refreshed.

She hadn’t made a noise this time, like she didn’t notice or had braced herself.

“Did you feel anything?”

“Nothing that time, Master.” A thud as she kicked a chair in frustration, muttering, “Can’t even stop calling him…”

It occurred to me that I could order her not to, and she’d probably obey. But that seemed oddly perverse. Besides, learning a little humility would do her no harm.

Her power levels were well above midrange, and I frowned, not remembering them as strong as this.

Yes, it was Halloween night, and I’d expect her power to reflect an increase, but the effect was usually minor, not a jump this large.

Power was a bell curve—higher levels were exponentially rarer.

By my estimate, Kara was now close to the top quartile.

“How strong do you feel?”

“Very,” she said, as if only now realizing how much her power had grown.

I checked my own; to my surprise, they weren’t the feeble trickle I’d grown used to seeing.

My ability to sense supes was still a small pool of white aether within me, a faint glow, barely more than a spark.

But my black pool—the one that had been dormant for so long and had awoken tonight—had swollen noticeably, doubling the power I’d had before. But twice not much still wasn’t much.

It was all very interesting, yet no help toward breaking our tether.

I shook my head. “I’ve looked; I can’t see a way.”

“ Fuck ,” she spat, her earlier hope and pleading replaced with bitterness and anger. She turned away, tail wrapped dejectedly around one leg. “My life is over.”

That felt a bit melodramatic. “Look, it’s still Halloween. Maybe this’ll fade by itself over the next couple of days.”

“That’s all very well for you to say. You’re not the one enslaved.”

Fair point. “Still, it’s a bit early to be assuming this is permanent.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “You’re a warlock. What else would it be?”

“That’s a big assumption.”

She scoffed, saying nothing.

I sighed and walked behind the bar, reaching for a bottle of bourbon and a glass.

My hand trembled as I poured, the adrenaline of the night fading.

I couldn’t believe what we’d seen, what was going on outside.

There were still distant sounds of fighting, but at least no one had come knocking on our door.

Maybe the bodies outside were a deterrent.

I’d killed someone tonight. That was a first.

Bonded a succubus, too, apparently. Another first. Lilim Demon. Whatever.

Knocking back the shot, I poured another before the fire of the first had settled in my stomach. “Want a drink?”

“Why not?” She came over, taking a seat like she was a customer, her eyes averted.

I set another glass on the bar and filled it for her, and we drank together.

“Can’t believe I killed that golem,” I muttered. “Went straight through his shield.” I refilled my glass, draining it again, trying to drown out the memory of his head bursting beneath my fist.

“Of course you did,” she said, like I was dense. “You punched him.”

“What?” I frowned, confused. Obviously, I’d punched him. It felt like I was missing her point. She’d definitely missed mine.

“That’s how it works, right?” She looked at me like I was ignorant. Which, on the mechanics of aether, I supposed I was. With my powers so weak, I’d never had any reason—or opportunity—to know differently.

But wasn’t a shield supposed to … well, shield?

“Let’s assume for the moment that I know nothing.”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “The closer aether is to your body, the easier it is to use, right?”

“Right …” Or, ‘if you say so’.

“Which is why everyone can shield.”

Everyone except me. Although now I could. Weird. Confusing. Quite cool.

“Right,” I said again.

“So naturally your punch went straight through his shield. Your own aether-powered strength is even closer to you than his shield. Nail, meet hammer.”

“So … shields are useless?” Great. And I’d only just gotten one. Easy come, easy go.

“No.” She gave me that look that made me feel like I was the student in her class—and not a very bright one. “If he’d been as strong as you, his shield would’ve helped him. You were stronger.”

I didn’t respond. My power may have increased, but not by much, not to the level that golem had been.

Yet there was no denying I’d broken through his shield.

I frowned, figuring it out. I’d been drawing from Kara at the time—that had to be the reason.

Her aether had bolstered me. It was the only explanation.

“If you’d used a ranged attack, his shield would’ve helped him even more.” She shrugged. “Why do you think supes use swords?”

“Because it looks cool?” That was what I’d always assumed.

She rolled her eyes, muttering, “Just my luck to get bonded to the stupidest warlock ever to exist.”

“I’m right here, you know.”

“Yes, I know.” She huffed. “So what now, oh great and mighty warlock?”

I poured myself another drink, sipping this one, not really wanting to get drunk—tempting though oblivion was. “No idea. Wait ’til morning, see if the situation improves.”

“Great plan,” she said, words dripping sarcasm. “So we just hide here, hoping we don’t get set on fire, or have the door kicked in, and wake up to find it was all a nightmare?”

I winced. “Got a better idea?”