Where Devils go to Party (Winterwood Witches #1)

Chapter 6: Inner Devil

Damn, Bianca is way too strict. It shouldn't have mattered which 'magical words' I used, but she still insisted I go through the motions of learning proper phrase structure and conjugation for Old Celtic just so I could do the same things I was doing, anyway. Yeah, I spent an extra hour getting chewed out about the power of words and the appropriate way of doing things. Not to take my magic lightly and such. It wasn't like I didn't get where she was coming from, but Bianca was so old-fashioned about the whole thing. My thought was that if it worked, then that's good enough for me without complicating matters by putting it in a language I barely speak.

Nevertheless, she still gave me a four-hour lecture on the subject and only let me go because she had other things that required her attention. The moment she turned her back, I bolted to my little room underneath the cafe and locked the door. It wouldn't keep her out if she really wanted in, but it would stave off another excruciating linguistics lesson. At least for a little while at any rate.

Safe behind a closed door, I let out a sigh of relief. You'd think I would be gloomy in my tiny windowless subterranean cellar that others would compare to a prison cell, but for me it was home. My own personal sanctuary hidden away from the world.

From the plush bed draped in a thick purple and black chequered quilt taking up most of the space between the chilly cement walls to the dozens of books scattered across the floor beneath an awkward hanging closet made of an old duffle bag, every part represented a crucial piece of my existence. Pieces of myself. The only exception was the thing looming in the far corner. I suppose it too was a part of myself, an ironic reminder of what I truly was. The full-length mirror Bianca insisted I live with regardless of my complaints.

The only thing the mirror reflected was a faint smoky blur standing in the middle of a messy room. As I had done thousands of times before, I focused all my will on that silvery glass, straining to feel the energy crackle around me. After a few moments of silent concentration, the smoky smudge began reforming itself into a dim figure staring back at me. The ghostly image remained faded and see through, but I was at least able to make out some details this time. Long, inky black hair and grey steely eyes staring out of pale porcelain-like skin making it look like something you'd see in a Japanese Horror flick. If it wasn't for my desperately bright clothing, you'd think I'd died decades ago.

Bianca once explained to me that this resulted from the savaging that had happened to my existence when my parents forcibly sent the bulk of the energy comprising my soul below the Nadir. All that's left above the surface is the dregs of what could have been. Yeah, I was lucky to keep even that much life force. Most of what I was or could ever be was trapped in some universal grease trap at the bottom of reality. As an unfortunate result, my presence rarely stuck to anything. Even my reflection wasn't safe from such a curse.

I dropped my concentration and stumbled backwards, feeling like I'd run a marathon. Immediately, the reflection returned to nothing but a smoky haze obscuring the image of a messy room. Just getting my reflection to a visible state took a great deal of effort and holding that kind of intense focus was something I could muster only for a few seconds at most. Still, it was a hell of a lot better than it was eleven years ago. Back then I couldn't even get the smudge to remain for long.

My daily exercise in futility over with, I turned towards the hanging duffle and started rifling through my wardrobe. Really, what would someone like me even wear to a Halloween party? It's not like I'd had many opportunities to socialise with my peers. I'd never even been near a party before. Staring at the half dozen pieces of clothing in front of me, I started feeling strangely nervous. What if they think I'm weird?

An excitable knock sounded on my door and before I answered, I saw the door fling open and Shauna barged into the room in the mirror's reflection. She never was one to bother with knocking. Probably there to discuss my assignment and help me get ready. It's like she thought I had no sense of fashion. Just because I liked purple and flashy outfits.