The Demon King of Lust

Chapter 31

If there's one thing I've never questioned in my life, it's that I am—and always have been—definitely human. Honestly, I didn't even know there was another option.

If I can go my whole life having no idea about something so big, how am I ever supposed to trust myself?

I'm supposed to be an empath, but it's pretty clear I have the world's worst intuition.

My stomach drops and my chest tightens. The idea that I've been so completely ignorant about my own reality has me questioning everything.

Kieran stares vacantly at the road ahead with both his hands on the wheel. He has been uncharacteristically quiet since Grams's house. Every time he glances over at me, he winces and looks away like I'm a bad memory he's trying to forget.

Finn, on the other hand, has spent most of the drive discussing what it means to be part-human, part-Empath.

"I've only known two Empaths in my life—brothers, Morgan and Patrick MacNee," he says. "Only one ever visited me here in Port Charlotte: Patrick. Morgan barely leaves the house, let alone the country. Their family is from Ireland like mine, but both of 'em were born and raised in England. He was a good man, but a bit wild. And I remember Fleurette, your Grams. Wild doesn't even begin to cover it with that girl."

"That's for sure," I mumble.

"She's Morgan's niece?" Kieran asks, his eyes still fixed on the road.

"Great-niece, but yeah. She must be," Finn says, squinting and looking me over. "Now that I think about it, I don't know how I didn't see it before. Sam is Patrick's spittin' image—ginger hair, big brown eyes. You're a MacNee for sure."

I nod slowly, taking in his words but failing to process them at all.

Finn knows my grandfather. Apparently Kieran knows my grand-uncle? And they're all supernatural immortal creatures.

And so am I.

Sort of.

One-quarter supernatural, I guess.

What the fuck does any of this mean?

I rub my eyes, like if I do it will wipe away the dream I'm undoubtedly experiencing. But for once, in a cruel twist—I'm not sleeping and I'm not dreaming.

"Okay, can we just rewind a little?" I ask. "I'm not sure I understand. Isn't an empath someone who can, like, read other people's emotions? Why would anyone be so threatened by that?"

"Ah yes, see," Finn says, "with Immortals and demons both, our powers are linked to our emotions. So an Empath can channel emotions, yes, but they can also channel powers."

"Wait... so I could, like... use Kieran's powers?"

"Or mine. Or anyone's. Everyone's, really. No one is immune to an Empath."

"Wow." It's the only word that seems to fit.

Either that or what the fucking fuck.

"Any one power might be one thing, but an Empath can take on the powers of every being in the room. They're—you're—infinitely powerful."

Sure. Infinitely powerful. Right.

"But I'm not immortal?" I ask. "I'm not going to live forever like you guys, right?"

Kieran pinches his lips together in a straight line, staring straight ahead with just a hint of a scowl. It's like he's suddenly bothered by the fact that I'm human.

What's his problem?

"I'm not sure," Finn says. "They're aren't a lot of Empaths out there, and there are even fewer human hybrids. You might stop aging at some point. It seems like your dad is unusually spry for his age. I wouldn't be surprised if he stays that way. But you're not invulnerable. You get sick like a human, right?"