22. The Question

Shandra takes two steps back.

"Sam?"

The demon snaps its neck and stands in an attack position, as if it is going to strike at any moment. The girl feels her own heart in her throat.

Had he not liked the direct order? Well, even if there was all that "freedom" talk, she could still exert some control on him, right?

"Sam!" She shouts once more. As Julian had made a point of warning, no demon would be seriously affected by absolutely any spell that was cast by the human.

The demon's frozen expression of hatred is one of the scariest things Shandra has seen in her life.

She swallows dryly, however, and stares him in the face. Even if he wanted to cut her to pieces, the young woman would not die begging like a coward.

Sam might be a demon, but she was a witch. A witch with magic latent in her veins, although she didn't know how, nor whose heritage it belonged to.

His sharp, black claws were very large, sharp and disproportionately large compared to the size of human hands. Shandra wondere