The Demon's Half

Chapter 10

Same brown eyes.

Same thin mouth.

The same worn, weathered face of a man who partied too much and rested too little. His jawline, sharp as ever, was lined with exhaustion. Deep creases framed his mouth, heavy with years of silence and unspoken regrets. Dark, disheveled hair hung over his shoulders, the strands unruly in the way they always were.

Even his clothes—his old white shirt and denim pants—were the same. The ones he wore on his last day alive.

My breath caught, my ribs locking around my lungs.

It was him.

But it wasn't.

A sick feeling twisted in my stomach, something between terror and grief. Something that made me want to reach for him and run from him all at once.

"It's Ronald! Open the door, Sebastian!"

The pounding on the door barely registered. My landlord's voice, loud and impatient, was nothing compared to the thing standing in front of me.

The thing wearing my father's skin turned to face me fully.

And then—he grinned.

The world stopped making sense. My father never smiled like that.

Wrong. Wrong. This was so damned wrong.

And even if I knew it really wasn't my father, I wanted to shove him away. But my feet wouldn't move, and my lips wouldn't part. My body wouldn't obey my command, as he turned on his heel, strode to the door, and pulled it open.

Ronald stood on the other side, irritation etched into his face. "About time," he huffed, then took a step forward—only to hesitate. His gaze flicked over my father's—no, the demon's—shoulder. His expression faltered.

His eyes scanned the room.

His jaw slackened.

"My God." His voice dropped to a whisper. "You've—transformed this place, Sebastian."

A slow chuckle. My father's voice, but not my father's voice.

"Yes."

The single word dripped with amusement, but it wasn't my father's brand of humor. It was something darker, something slick and smug and knowing.

"This place was disgusting," the demon continued, still wearing my father's face.

Ronald stiffened, his brows snapping together. "Disgusting?" he repeated, incredulous. "I gave you a place to live, and now it's disgusting?"

The demon barely looked at him. He sighed, like he was growing bored. "Enough talking." A dismissive flick of his wrist. "Name your price."

Ronald scoffed. "It's not for sale."

His hand shot toward the doorknob.

"And I suggest you start looking for another place to stay."

What?!

No.

No, no, no.

My stomach hollowed out, my pulse hammering against my chest. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes. I tried to move but my muscles had become jello.

I was going to lose everything.

I was going to be homeless after all.

Ronald turned to leave, his hand on the doorknob—when the demon moved.

His fingers settled on Ronald's shoulder, deceptively light. But there was something else there. A power I couldn't see, couldn't even feel yet I knew it was there.