By the time Chloe stumbled back into the penthouse, her shoulder still ached where Ereshia had gripped her. The sting of humiliation clung to her skin, heavier than the near miss with the car. She slammed the door behind her, startling Zoe who was curled on the couch with her laptop. “Chloe?” Zoe blinked, sitting up. “What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Chloe barked a laugh that sounded more like a sob. “Not a ghost. Worse. My… my guardian.” Zoe frowned, setting the laptop aside. “Ereshia? Did something happen?” “Did something happen?” Chloe’s voice cracked, rising in pitch. She flung her bag onto the floor and ran a hand through her hair. “She nearly broke my shoulder because I crossed the damn street. I almost feel safer without her. I can’t… I can’t live like this, Zoe. She’s everywhere. In the bathroom. In my bedroom. Watching me when I sleep. Following me when I pee. And now…” She slapped her palm over her heart, where it still thudded wildly. “Now she’s treati
At first, Chloe thought she could get used to it. Waking up with Ereshia perched on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep with a soft, unreadable smile, it was unnerving, yes, but not unbearable. After all, Melinda had promised the guardian would protect her. And after Selene’s attack, wasn’t it better to have someone, something watching over her? But by the second day, Chloe realized the truth: she had no privacy anymore. “Do you mind?” Chloe hissed when she found Ereshia leaning casually against the bathroom wall, her silken hair shimmering like liquid gold, her eyes like fractured gemstones. Chloe clutched her toothbrush awkwardly. Foam dribbled down her chin as she tried to ignore the otherworldly beauty reflected in the mirror beside her. Ereshia only tilted her head, smiling faintly. “I am bound to you. Where you go, I go.” “Yeah, but can you not stare while I’m brushing my teeth?” The guardian said nothing, only lifted one perfect brow as though Chloe had just said some
The penthouse lights were dimmed, the curtains drawn tight. Melinda had stripped the living room bare of distractions, no TV glow, no lamps, only the black wax candles she had arranged in a wide, circular pattern across the polished floor. Their flames flickered unnaturally, rising and shrinking with the rhythm of a silent heartbeat. Chloe sat at the center of the circle, her palms pressed to her knees, every muscle taut with dread. The polished wood beneath her was marked with chalk sigils that seemed to writhe if she stared at them too long. Zoe sat just beyond the candles, wringing her hands, pale with worry but unwilling to leave. “Remember,” Melinda’s voice carried low and firm as she poured a small bowl of salt into the circle’s rim, sealing Chloe inside, “what you call tonight is not a servant. She is not a pet. She is not even your friend. She is bound only by blood and pact. If you show weakness, she will feed on it. If you test her, she will devour you.” Chloe’s throat bo
Chloe’s throat felt raw, as if the spirit’s words had burned their way down into her lungs. She hugged herself, shaking, her mind spinning with the echo of Selene’s laughter. The image of those glowing eyes and sharp teeth lingered even with the smoke gone, as though Selene’s presence still coiled in the air. “I…” Chloe’s voice cracked. She tried again, but it came out as a whisper. “I don’t want to die again. Zoe, I can’t…” Zoe was already there, pulling her into her arms, grounding her with the warmth of her body. “Hey, hey, no. Don’t say that.” Her voice was fierce, almost trembling, as if trying to convince herself as much as Chloe. “You’re not going to die again, Chloe. Do you hear me? Not while I’m here. Not while Valerius is here. Not while we’re here.” Chloe buried her face into Zoe’s shoulder, her body racked with sobs she couldn’t hold back anymore. It wasn’t just the fear of Selene’s threat, it was the memory of dying, the cold emptiness of it, the helplessness she thoug
The apartment felt different that night. Shadows pressed in thicker than usual, clinging to the corners of the living room as though waiting to watch. Melinda had pushed the coffee table aside and drawn a wide circle on the floor with salt and ash, intricate sigils etched carefully inside it. Candles flickered at the points of a star, their flames unnaturally tall, whispering against unseen currents of air. Chloe and Zoe sat cross-legged just outside the circle, tense, while Melinda knelt in the center, her obsidian bowl before her. She had filled it with dark water, a few drops of her own blood staining the surface crimson. A thin line of incense smoke coiled upward like a snake. “Remember,” Melinda said, her voice low but steady, “no matter what happens, don’t step inside the circle. Not unless I tell you. Do you understand?” Chloe nodded quickly. Zoe swallowed and whispered, “Yeah.” Melinda raised her hands and began chanting, words old and jagged, their rhythm like the beating
The ride back home felt heavier than the hospital air. Chloe moved carefully, her stitches pulling whenever she shifted, but Zoe never left her side, fussing over every step. By the time they reached the apartment, Chloe just wanted to collapse into bed. But the wreath was there. Sitting in the corner, pale flowers already starting to wilt, their scent sickly-sweet. The note lay on the table, its jagged handwriting still haunting Chloe. When Melinda arrived, her expression was already hard, as if she knew the situation before they even explained. She slipped her bag onto the floor and crouched by the wreath, her fingers grazing over the lilies. “You should’ve burned this the second you brought it back,” she muttered. Zoe crossed her arms. “We thought you’d want to see it first.” Melinda nodded slowly, then lifted the folded note between two fingers, her eyes narrowing at the handwriting. “This isn’t just a threat. It’s marked. Whoever wrote this put their energy into it. Whi