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“For a reason,” she said. “The humans are unharmed and don’t remember it. No harm done.”

“That’s a lie, I was warned not to go out at night, and I know from their reactions, other patients know what’s going on,” I argued.

“Watch your tone, champion or not, I won’t tolerate your attitude,” she warned in an icy voice. I glared back at her, unperturbed, and was met with a sudden laugh. “Yes, I chose well.”

“Chose what?” I asked. “None of what you are saying makes sense. I may need to up my meds.” The fact I was facing a supposed ruler of a realm I didn’t even think really existed was enough of a testament that I was on a psychotic spiral or something. The demons already didn’t make sense, but this?

“I could see it being difficult to distinguish between reality and your illness, but I assure you, this is no hallucination, Harlow,” she promised. “My demons are real, and the feeding is necessary. We have to keep their power strong so the portal stays closed. Letting them out would be inadvisable.”

“No shit,” I snarked. “I imagine not.”

“Let me be frank, I hate this beating around the bush thing you humans do. I’m Hel, I rule over my realm and the souls sent there. My demons and my gargoyles keep the souls in line. And now it’s time for the gargoyles in Dark Haven to awaken, to ensure the demons stay in line. And that’s where you come in.” A shiver ran through me as I remembered the figure on the roof, the gargoyle statue looming over me as I hid from the rain.

“Why me?” I asked. She merely gave me a warning glance this time before continuing.

“Because I chose you, Harlow. You don’t just belong to this world, but mine as well,” she said as if that answered my question at all.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I sighed, sitting down on the roof despite it being covered in a layer of dirt and leaves. “I’m no one. A reject.”

“You’re my chosen champion, Harlow,” she said. The pride in her tone didn’t make sense, hell, none of this did. “Enough of this self-deprecation, get up and act like someone blessed by a queen.”

“Blessed?” I seethed, standing up and facing off with her like a true idiot. This could mean my end, but I refused for her to sugarcoat my fucking existence. “I spent years homeless on the run, had a family that could rival the worst demons you could imagine, been tortured and used, and fought for every fucking thing I have ever had.”

“Exactly,” she said in a far gentler tone this time. “I wouldn’t have chosen a weak champion, but one forged from hardship, one with a mind willing to believe the unbelievable. You’ve had my strongest companion by your side most of your life, that was all the intervening I could do.”

“Why? What do you need me for? A champion for what?”

Hel paced the roof and shook her head, refusing to answer. She only stopped next to the gargoyle I’d hidden underneath the night I woke up here.

“Things are going as they’ve been foreseen, Harlow, you just have to open your mind. You’ll never be alone again, you have some that are determined to help. It’s up to you to keep the portal closed, protect your world and mine, I can’t be in both places.”

“How? I’m literally in a prison of sorts,” I pointed out.

“You don’t need to leave to do this job,” she said. “Keep vigilant, Harlow. You’ll find your answers soon enough.”

She was gone then, leaving my head spinning, but before I could even think, the door opened with a squeak and Vane was bursting out in a rage.

“I hope it was worth it, Harlow, you’ll be spending a week in solitary for this stunt.”

ChapterFourteen

Harlow

Friday Morning

Solitary

The drugs in my system were wearing off, but I couldn’t tell if Monty was here or if it was someone or something else that was lurking in the corner of the room. My head was pounding, and my body ached from the hard mattress on the rickety bed.

I pulled myself up to sitting with a groan. There was nothing else to look at but padded walls and the creature waiting for me to make my move.

“Who are you?” I asked. When I got no response and didn’t feel Monty’s coldness, I chalked it up to yet another hallucination. In the hours or days I spent under whatever sedative Vane and his orderlies shot into my veins, my meds had worn off completely. The hallucinations were creeping back in.

The door opened and a nurse came in. Her scrubs were ragged, and her hair was frizzy to the point it almost looked as if she stuck her finger in a socket. She was wearing a medical mask, and her eyes were cold and overlined in eyeliner, making her seem half-crazed.

She froze when she saw I was up. “I’ll get Vane.” That was all she said before stepping out and leaving me alone again. My stomach was empty to the point of nausea, and I had no real idea what day it was.

Or if a day had even passed.


Tags: Jarica James Paranormal