Page 100 of Demon Heart: The Complete Series

My God, regret sucked. I knew that. I mourned the days I wouldn’t get to have with Grandma, regretted not taking her to her favorite supermarket before her health began to fail.

Kept making her promises, fobbing her off because of work.

I mean, I had all the time in the world to take, didn’t I?

She was just poorly and she’d get better.

My grandma wouldn’t die. As strong as an ox, she used to say.

And I believed that. Time wasn’t my enemy.

Man, how the tide changed.

I’m sorry, Grandma.

I’ll forever be sorry.

I shut down all thinking, becoming The Shadow. Alone. Ready to go out in a blaze of glory.

Wait. Where were Margarite and Lizard Guy? They hadn’t made a peep and I’d kind of forgotten about them. Did my broken device change things?

I did a quick check, not spotting them.

“What should we do?” Past Xavier asked his king. “He can’t even take the blade out himself.”

Enjoy the show, did you?

“Try moving him,” Ismael ordered a different king.

Hmmm. Was Ismael considered the big boss of the big bosses?

The other demon king couldn’t get purchase on my ghostly body.

Tee-pissing-hee!

Ismael huffed.

“This is impossible, My King.” Tanith’s voice. She pushed through the monarchs, joining her two besties.

Her auburn curls stuck up all over the place, her dark green snake body flexing with scary strength. A real pain in the arse.

I caught a glimpse of Darcy’s body. I slammed my eyes shut, patching up the hole in my defenses.

I’m The Shadow.

I’m The Shadow.

“We leave him here,” Ismael began. “Seal him in until I decide what to do with him.”

Dream on, dickhead!

I sprang to my feet, taking a swing at the king who tried grabbing me and passed right through him. He yelled, I spun, trying again.

Nope. My kick hit air.

Damn.

He came at me, joined by another king. They bumped into each other, me not even a little bit of a filling between them.

“I really am a ghost.”

Ismael chuckled. “Indeed, you are.” He came closer. “Did you kill him, Butterfly?”

“Fascinating,” was all the insectoid wanker could say.

“I’m not dead,” I protested.

“Between life and death, then,” Ismael retorted.

“Undead, if you like.” His lips curled up in triumph.

“Well done, Butterfly. You have certainly castrated this threat. He is nothing. He is useless. Doomed to exist until his body decides his time is up.” The wanker slipped his arm around Xavier.

“A slayer of his love. Useless. Nothing more than a wisp of cloud.”

No. No. No. He was wrong. I was his fucking doom. Any minute now, I’d take his life.

Butterfly nodded, his eyes scrutinizing me as if under his microscope.

I snapped, my fury exploding out of me as a wail. I rushed him, cursing his name, throwing endless punches, kicks, even a headbutt.

It took me a minute to quit, bending over to catch my breath.

Dead things don’t need to breathe! My inner words didn’t offer me much comfort.

A chorus of laughter brought my tears back. I felt like a kid at school surrounded by bullies. Sneers and jeers, fingers pointed at me because I’d wet myself after Terry Stamper called me a bad word before punching me in the stomach.

Fuck Terry Stamper. I’d kicked his arse in that same moment, made him piss and shit his pants by the end of it. Landed myself in hot water for breaking his jaw.

“Useless!” Ismael cried, the laughter coming at me harder.

The raging part of me wanted to lose myself in flying fists and kicks, to try anything to land just one blow. But there wasn’t any point in that. The other, more rational part of me got my feet moving.

Because what else was there to do?

I walked through the monarchs and their demon minions, feeling nothing as I passed through their flesh.

I battered myself with more words.

Nothing feels nothing.

I’m nothing.

Hopeless and done.

Hopeless and pathetic.

An oxygen thief, a piece of ? —

Hold on. One more card remained up my sleeve. I turned, halfway inside some demon’s body, my focus snaring on the time jar. I might not be able to interact with anything else, but what about that? The rules were wonky, confusing, so maybe I could touch it.

Fuck it. I gave it a shot, rushing Butterfly. He jumped back, his shocked expression giving me a spike of joyful respite from the gloom. I loved seeing that panic.

“Roman!” he bellowed.

That time jar was the key. Somehow, I had to crack it and devour the stormy insides. It was my glimmer of hope, a bright spark to keep me going.

I won’t let either of you stay dead… I thought at the bodies close to my feet.

Unfortunately, my hand passed through the jar when I rushed Butterfly again. Once again, I felt nothing, not so much as a hum.

The demons laughed even harder than before.

“Pathetic!” Ismael roared.

Yeah. He didn’t need to rub it in.

“Give up, Roman,” Butterfly said. “At least you get to live for the time being.”

Did he really just say that to me?

“Fuck you!” I snapped, stopping myself from ranting about this being his fault. Again. He didn’t give a shit, having flip-flopped between regret and kissing Ismael’s arse.

Fuck him. Fuck them. Fuck being a ghost. As hard as this defeat crushed my soul, I wouldn’t give up. Somehow, I’d get my hands on that time jar. Maybe not today, tomorrow, this week, or even this month. But I would.

I promise…

Falling into a black hole of sorrow did nothing for Darcy and Xavier. It did nothing for the future. Giving up was too easy. I didn’t do easy. I liked to fight, I liked a challenge. I mean, I didn’t become king of the Sunday Times crossword for nothing.

And I loved. I wasn’t pure death, I possessed more layers than that. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t hurt so much. I wouldn’t mourn my grandma every day, I wouldn’t have taken Darcy into my home or fallen in love with Xavier.

Yeah. It was love. Everything about him set my pulse on fire.

I wanted to make sure he knew that again and again and again.

I would confess my love, do more than give us the boyfriend tag.

He had to know. He had to see. And when I fixed this, I’d tell him every day how much he’d saved my life in more ways than one.

How much he made me see the brightest of stars.

Darcy was the same, in a friendship way. He was also my everything. I loved him just as hard.

I’m getting you back…

The heavy boot of determination pushed my grief face-down in the mud. Awesome. It meant I wasn’t done yet. Not so empty, not so useless.

That demon laughter helped galvanize me. I loathed bullies, anyone who kicked someone when they were down. It made me want to give them the smackdown, to wipe smiles from faces, snuff out the smugness. Make them see they were the scum, not me.

Good. This was good. But first, I needed some help. And I knew who to approach first.

Keeping my fingers crossed for the best outcome, I walked away to the sounds of laughter, stepping into a room with a giant computer screen shaped like a tree.

A demonic CCTV system, as Xavier said, showing many areas of the demon realm.

Not that it meant anything to me. I had no clue how to navigate this place without a map or the demon I loved.

What I did have was the ability to walk through walls.

And so, I did, my tears hot and wild again. I passed through a strange, shimmering darkness until I stepped out into heavy rain in the middle of a residential street.

Back on Earth, Butterfly’s dust falling with the rain.

I wiped my tears with my sleeve, drawing a deep breath. Where was I? Still in England? The architecture looked like it might be, but I wasn’t exactly an expert on those things.

Man, the rain came down hard, soaking me through to the bone in no time. Great. Can’t touch or be touched, but open to a drenching. Hmmm.

Must mean I wasn’t dead, right?

Sniffling, I wrapped my arms around myself against the cold and to hide the dagger in my chest. Parked cars choked the street, some warm-looking homes boasting small driveways. It was like one long car dealership showing off its variety of automobiles.

Smoke curled from chimneys, most windows glowing with light behind closed curtains. God only knew what time it was. Possibly early evening.

I missed my dagger and Skele—my device for picking locks. And my phone. Not that I’d be able to use any of them in this state. At least, I assumed so.

I kept to the path, ready to dive into a garden to hide from any walkers braving the rain. But I saw no one, only a few cars driving past.

Alone. Shivering. Craving a pitstop to sort my head out and sharpen my focus.

Near the end of the street, as it curved to the right, I noticed three of the houses were boarded up. Metal sheets covered the windows and doors.

Bingo. This is where I’d crash.

I chose the first house, pausing as I clocked the number. 51, the same as my grandma’s house.

Blinking free some tears brought on by my grandma’s memory, I checked for any watchers then slipped through the front door into warm, dry darkness.

“Who the fuck are you?” a man demanded.

Shit. I wasn’t alone.