Page 1

I told my brain that, but evidently my lungs had other plans.

The numbers were supposed to help. A simple grounding exercise to center myself: count, regulate, breathe. My heart hammered, my fingers shook, and my head felt like it had been placed into a malfunctioning blender and set to puree.

And if that wasn't enough? I was standing inside Ethan's mansion.

Ethan. A demon. The demon. Most insufferable, arrogant golden-boy wanna-be in the history of Paramount High.

Someone needed to create an award for "Most Likely to Flirt With His Own Reflection" and Ethan would take that prize in a landslide.

Everything about his existence seemed engineered around being infuriatingly charismatic, effortlessly cool, and just so repulsively flawless my guts churned with it.

I hated all demons. Maybe because no matter how much time passes, I still couldn't unsee that golden glow in their eyes.

Now, I was trapped inside a demon's house.

And this was all Joy's and Shun's fault.

My so-called best friends dragged me into this nightmare, insisting that I wasn't "living my fullest life.

" Yeah, right, as if this was my fullest life—just standing in a room full of creatures, drowning in flashing lights, cigarette smoke, and the overwhelming scent of expensive perfume that was probably charmed to brainwash unsuspecting introverts like me.

The mansion was terrific—vaulted ceilings, chandeliers dripping with enchanted crystals, and a grand staircase that seemed to exist purely for dramatic entrances.

Everything screamed old money and bad decisions.

The walls were lined with gothic portraits, their eyes following me in that creepy, possibly-haunted way.

The party was even worse.

The dance floor was a maze of twisting bodies—icky hovering witches, vampires in unnatural fluid motions, and werewolves that had completely forgotten the use of personal space.

Trolls were arm-wrestling near the bar and shaking the floor with every twitch.

Someplace out of earshot, some siren was singing, weaving enough spell on her voice that even I, in an overpowering urge to die in some quiet place other than this one, could feel the pull.

And then there was me: Clark, the resident nerd, standing at the edge of chaos, clutching a tumbler full of water like it was the only thing standing between me and a very ugly end.

I could feel the stares. Not malicious ones, but the kind that came with recognition.

The oh, look, it’s the guy who corrected a teacher’s rune diagram in front of the entire class stares.

The “wasn’t he the one who wrote a five-page essay on ancient spell structures even though the assignment was only three pages” stares.

Yeah. I was that guy.

And of course, Joy and Shun were nowhere to be found.

Shun had disappeared with her date—a guy who had the personality of a wet sponge but the face of someone clearly sculpted by a vain elven goddess. Max, a jock on Ethan’s team.

Joy had gone off with her date too—Mia—because unlike me, they actually had functioning social skills. Sometimes I wonder how we even became friends.

But then I remember—every detail. The enthusiastic girl who first spoke to me back in middle school: Joy. And the girl Joy tried to scoop off her feet, misreading the vibe entirely, who somehow still became our friend.

And so here I was. Alone. Trying not to pass out from the sensory overload.

I pressed my back against the marble wall, my breathing uneven.

1, 2, 3, 4—breathe.

It still wasn't working.

I needed out.

Pushing past the cluster of sirens—who barely gave me a second glance, of course—I made for the big double doors that stood open onto the balcony.

A drunken minotaur almost trod on me, and one of the vampires whispered something about my delectable-smelling blood, which was just what I wanted to hear.

Outside, the night air slapped coolly against me like a benediction.

I stumbled toward the railing, taking deep, gasping breaths. The gardens below spread out in neat, symmetrical perfection, the hedges trimmed into intricate patterns that probably looked impressive if you weren't trying to recover from imminent suffocation by party.

For a moment, it was just me and the stars.

Then—

"Oh good. He lives."

I groaned, already knowing who it was before I turned around.

Joy stood at the entrance to the balcony, her arms crossed, her emerald baggy pants shimmering in the moonlight.

Her auburn hair was braided with strands of gold, because even when dressing down, elves like to be extra.

Behind her, Shun leaned against the doorway, her dark eyes scanning me as if I were some sad stray cat.

"You disappeared," Shun said, moving closer. "We were worried."

“Yeah," Joy added, "I thought maybe you got kidnapped. Or trampled by a centaur. Or just spontaneously combusted from social interaction. Honestly, all valid theories."

I scowled. "I was having a panic attack."

Joy's smirk softened just slightly. "And now?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Recovering."

Shun gave me an unimpressed look. “Clark, why'd you even come if you're gonna stand around looking like a ghost that died from awkwardness?"

"Because you two literally dragged me here."

"Oh, right." Joy snapped her fingers. "Because you never leave your house unless it's for school or food. And that's just tragic."

"I like my house."

"You like your books," she corrected. "And your weird, nerdy ancient spell theories. And your anti-social lifestyle." She waved a hand toward the mansion. "This is supposed to be fun, Clark."

"Your definition of fun is broken."

Joy rolled her eyes. "Alright, grumpy hermit, let's get you home."

Immediately, I stiffened. Leaving sounded great. Leaving meant I could go back to my books, my quiet, my demon-free existence.

But if I left, Joy and Shun would leave too.

And despite my general misery, they wanted to be here. Shun had spent all week hyping this up, and Joy… well, she thrived in chaotic social settings like these. If they left to take me home, they wouldn't come back.

I exhaled. "No. I'm not leaving."

Joy blinked. "Wait, what?

"If you take me home, you won't come back," I said, pushing the words out against the tightness in my throat. "And I don't want to ruin your night."

Joy looked at Shun. Shun looked at Joy. Then back at me.

"You're voluntarily staying?" Joy asked.

I nodded.

Joy raised an eyebrow. "Did someone curse you while I wasn't looking?"

I sighed. "I just… need a little time to breathe.”

She hesitated, but finally she sighed. "Fine. But if you pass out from social exhaustion, I will drag your unconscious body home."

Just as I was going to thumbs-up the great compromise, Max—of all people—materialized behind Shun and playfully pushed her. She giggled, and just like that, they flirted and pecked at each other. The cheerleader and the jock—cliché complete.

After what felt like an eternity of half-closing my eyes in disgust, Max slung an arm over Shun's shoulder, grinning like the walking stereotype he was. "We're playing fear pong. You in?"

Shun smirked. "Obviously."

Joy snorted. "Depends. Is it actual fear pong, or just an excuse to dare people into embarrassing themselves?"

Max's grin widened. "Why not both?"

I made a noise of protest. "Hard pass.”

"Aw, come on, nerd," Max said, elbowing me like we were pals. We weren't. "It's all in good fun."

"Your definition of fun is broken," I muttered, but no one was listening.

I should've just stayed on the balcony. I should've let them go play their ridiculous game while I enjoyed the solitude of a demon-infested mansion in peace. But then Joy grabbed my wrist, dragging me toward the game setup like a particularly stubborn bounty hunter.

"You're playing," she declared.

"I'm really not."

"You really are."

Shun, the traitor, was already setting up with Max, while the rest of the partygoers started gathering in his wake.

The fear pong table was long and polished, set up much like classic beer pong but with enchanted cups that flickered with eerie lights.

Besides it floated a sheet of parchment, glowing with every new dare inscribed upon it in shimmering ink.

A vampire girl cracked her knuckles. "Rules are simple," she said. "You sink a shot, the other team picks a dare. If they refuse, they're out."

I sighed. "You people have no sense of self-preservation."

Joy tossed me a ball. "That's the spirit."

I missed on my first throw.

Joy did not. She nailed the first cup perfectly, and a line of shimmering words appeared in the air:

DARE: SPEND 30 SECONDS IN THE CURSED CLOSET.

Max whistled. “Brutal.”

The closet in question was just across the room—a dark wooden thing with a slightly ajar door that breathed shadows.

Joy shrugged. “Fine.”

She walked over and stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind her.

A hush fell over the group.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

At twenty-five, the closet rattled.

At thirty, Joy strolled out, completely unfazed. “Lame,” she said, brushing off her pants. “Next round.”

I turned to Shun. "Why are we friends with her?"

"She's entertaining."

Meaning of entertaining: Super enthusiastic, super crazy, worst choice maker, and did I say super super crazy?

Speaking from experience.

The game went on and on, each round more and more ridiculous.

Max had to let a siren whisper in his ear for a full minute—he walked away dazed and a little lovestruck.

Shun got dared to arm-wrestle a werewolf—she lost in an instant.

Joy had to drink a mystery potion that turned her hair neon pink for the next hour.

And then, of course, it was my turn again.

I finally landed a shot, and Max grinned like he'd been waiting for this moment. The floating parchment shimmered, revealing my fate.

DARE: KISS ETHAN.

Joy choked on her drink. Shun covered her mouth, eyes wide with glee. Someone whistled.

I, meanwhile, considered throwing myself off the balcony.

Ethan—golden-boy demon, insufferable flirt, and my mortal nemesis, the one person I despised more than this party combined.

I glared at him a smirk already forming on his stupidly perfect face.