“We have summoned thee, Demon Dresalantion, to do our bidding until we decide to release you again.”
The high-pitched, slightly quivering voice reminded Dre why he had come to this obvious dump in the first place. He turned around to look at the five humans who had summoned him. Unfortunately, the one standing in the front chose that exact moment to throw something at him, and out of reflex, Dre reared back, which made the floor creak in a way that had him contemplating returning to Barion immediately. But, no, he was a freaking demon prince and would deal with these puny humans in a way they would never forget, buildings on the verge of collapsing be damned. He touched some of the white powder clinging to his chest, brought it to his mouth and tasted it. Salt, of course—because salt was such a good weapon against evil. He barely managed not to roll his eyes, though this one was not on Uncle Corriwyn. Somebody else had come up with that bullshit. All salt did was make meals tastier—or inedible, depending on how much of it one used. Dre looked at the humans more closely. There were five of them, and their height made him wonder if they were already grown-up. Their faces were hidden behind masks that looked like those Dre had seen in pictures showing members of the Ku Klux Klan, only the fabric wasn’t white. The figure in the front was wearing black, which would have been mildly impressive if it weren’t clearly terrycloth from a contour sheet. Two others were wearing a very dark blue linen that was so badly crinkled that it looked as if they had a spider’s web on their faces. The last two humans kept to the back, and when Dre saw their hoods, he knew why. One had a Wonder Woman print on it, the other a colorful flower pattern that had last been in style in the seventies. Dre tried not to laugh, but it was an impossible task. His guffaw echoed through whatever abandoned building they were in, while tears streamed down his cheeks. He had to give it to Corriwyn. Humans were a source of great entertainment.
The figure in the front put their hands on their hips and glared at him, which only made the terrycloth look even more ridiculous.
“Stop it, Dresalantion! I order you! You have to obey!”
Dre stopped laughing. The little shit wants to play games? Dre would give him what he was asking for…and more.
“What do you want?” He tried to sound subservient but it was hard. Dre wasn’t that good an actor to begin with, and despite the fun the humans had provided him, he was getting back to being pissed. The small human—Dre was positive now that it was a boy and had to be a teenager—raised both hands.
“We have brought you a sacrifice to heighten your strength for the task we have for you.”
He made a step sideways and gestured to the left side of the room, where a prone form lay on the broken floor. “Have your fill then carry out our orders!”
Dre had had enough. Why did humans think a blood sacrifice was required? Demons weren’t fond of human meat, since it left a strange aftertaste, and given what people chose to eat these days, that was understandable. Of course, there were some cruel demons who delighted in the fear of the sacrifices, but most of those were doing time in a cell in the demon realm. Demon society had fully arrived in the twenty-first century and his father, the king, had every intention of keeping their existence a secret. For that goal, he had implemented a number of laws that prevented demons from screwing up in the human world while their society profited from the human inventions at the same time.
He eyed the boy while he made a deliberate step outside the chalk circle the teenagers had drawn on the floor. It looked more like an egg than a circle anyway. If they have to mess with me, why can’t they at least do a decent job at drawing? It isn’t that difficult, is it? Even the old Egyptians had managed to get a circle straight, no pun intended. All someone needed was a piece of rope and a stick. Simple, really. The boy was now jumping up and down, throwing more salt at Dre.
“I command you to step back into the circle! I command you!”
Very slowly, Dre pulled back his lips and let his fangs grow out. A whimper resounded from behind the boy and Wonder Woman and Floral Pattern ran for the door. He let his hair turn into scales, which took care of the linen cloaks. When he turned his eyes a shade of crimson, the terrycloth-draped boy shrieked, spun around and followed his friends through the empty doorframe with the rusty hinges sticking out. Satisfied with the hasty retreat of his summoners, Dre turned to the person on the floor. Two steps and he was kneeling next to the body. Very carefully, he grabbed the shoulder and rolled the person onto their back. Two huge, beautiful eyes looked up at him—one blue, the other a deep brown. Thick black curls framed an angular face that was definitely masculine and yet strangely ethereal, like he was an angel—which was bullshit, since angels weren’t all that ethereal. Horny little fuckers, most of them. The full lips quivered, and a tear slid down the lightly chocolate-colored skin.
“Please, don’t kill me.”
Dre swallowed hard. He usually wasn’t attracted to humans—too fragile for his taste—but this one? This one made his heart thud a little harder than usual.
“Don’t be afraid. I would never kill an innocent.”
The look in the still-teary eyes told him the man didn’t believe him. Dre concentrated and his fangs receded, the scales turned back into hair and the red in his eyes bled out. He knew he would never really look human—more like a meta-human or as if he were taking too many steroids—but at least he had a familiar shape now.
“I promise that you’re safe. What’s your name?”
The huge eyes widened even more. “I’m not sure I should tell you. Names have power.”
Dre frowned and tried to get his thoughts in order. The boy was clearly frightened, but not as terrified as he should have been when confronted with him changing his shape. He had expected the boy to pass out, yet here he was, staring at him with suspicion under the fear and a clear knowledge about certain precautions, like never telling a stranger your name.
“You’re right. Names do have power. You know about”—Dre hesitated for a moment then settled for—“the paranormal world?”
The boy sighed. “Yes. Sometimes more than I’d like.” He leaned his head back on the dirty floor and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, a strange determination had almost completely overridden the fear. “May I ask what you are?”
Dre lifted a brow and gestured back to the badly drawn chalk circle. “Make a guess.” He grinned in an attempt to soothe the young man further.
“What do you mean?” The human tried to get into a sitting position and Dre hurried to help him. His hands were tied in front of him with a length of clothesline.
“Shall I help you with this?” Dre pointed at the man’s bound hands.
For a moment he seemed to be confused, but then he held his arms up. Dre let one of his claws slide out to cut through the clothesline. The pieces fell into the young man’s lap and he started massaging his wrists while he looked around.
“Thank you. Now what am I supposed to guess?”
Dre rolled his eyes. Perhaps the teenagers who had summoned him had hit the guy over the head, because he didn’t seem to be the brightest light in the chandelier.
“You wanted to know what I am. Look around you. Chalk circle—”
“That’s not a circle. That’s an egg.” The young man squinted at the floor, where the chalk markings were. “And it’s pink!”