Page 41 of Infernal Secrets

“He didn’t wanna accept that I now saw what Mom always said she saw. But he knew. He believed me—but not about the monsters. To him, I was hallucinating like Mom and Grandma.”

I frowned when she laughed it off, as if it wasn’t sad her dad rejected her truth.

“Still, when he finally came to terms with it, it made life easier knowing I had them and Grandma on my side—even if it meant a lifetime of seeing what no one else did.”

She looked over at me with a sardonic smile. “It’s not hallucinations, is it?”

Swallowing proved difficult, but I forced the lump down. “No. It isn’t.” I wouldn’t tell her exactly what she saw, but I wouldn’t lie. I promised. It didn’t feel right to hide it.

Her words confirmed some humans saw infernals. But it also made it clear someone kept a gate to Niemna open, allowing others to possess humans. To what end, and for how long, I didn’t know.

It frustrated me whenever a rift opened between worlds because it created chaos on Earth, even when we handled it quickly. The way Rae talked, she’d had a constant experience throughout her life, which either confirmed the theory of an always-open gate we’re unaware of, or that unauthorized infernals had learned to mask themselves from the council.

She flopped back onto her pillow and looked up at the ceiling. “I spent my entire life trying to ignore them. After I got in trouble for playing with my shadow friends in second grade, I knew I wasn’t normal and needed to stay quiet to avoid being medicated.”

“They interacted with you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Did they hurt you?”

“No. They weren’t scary like whatever possessed Crystal’s mom. At least, I didn’t think so. I don’t know if they did it on purpose not to scare me, but they always had shadowy smoke around them, so I never saw their bodies. They’d sit with me while I played or hosted tea parties for them.”

“Tea parties?” I couldn’t help but laugh, and she swatted at me. “That’s cute. Did they also interact with you?”

The whole thing sounded strange. Ezra’s dad was the only one who permitted entry from the infernal plane to Earth—unless someone kept an open gate. But who had that kind of power? And what species would even bother disguising themselves just to sit with a human child?

“Not really. I mean, they sat around with me. I didn’t feel so alone when they were there. They didn’t touch anything or speak. But having them there when all the other kids kept their distance was all I needed. Before I knew better, I talked about them. My friends’ parents told them not to hang out with me.”

She placed a hand over her chest and grasped something beneath her shirt.

“Kids aren’t born with biases, you know? Shunning someone because they don’t fit an adult’s definition of ‘normal’ isn’t something they come into the world feeling. It’s learned behavior. My shadow friends made life bearable, even if seeing the other demons was hard.”

Movement at the door caught my eye, and I looked over to see Cyn standing there with his arms crossed. A muscle in his jaw tensed when our eyes met. I suspected he heard everything—or at least the important parts. When he turned away and left, I turned back to her.

She hadn’t noticed his presence.

He’d likely tell the others to bring them up to speed. Sharing her background made me uncomfortable, but it could be vital in discovering how she summoned us. And technically, it was Cyn—not me—who would share, but it didn’t ease my guilt.

I shifted on the bed, studying her profile.

She seemed comfortable with me, and I didn’t know how to process that. More than that, her presence made me feel at home, even when home never felt like home.

I rubbed at my sternum as that same strange awareness pressed against me. My body kept trying to tell me something, but my brain wasn’t getting the memo.

Trying to shake the feeling, I asked, “Is that why you seem comfortable around us?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you’ve always had those shadowy friends, then you’re used to non-humans who aren’t hostile. I wondered if that’s why instead of freaking out, you’ve acted fine with us, even knowing what we are.”

Her willingness to roll with the punches last night seemed strange, until I knew more about what she grew up experiencing. Though I had the feeling what she shared was only half of it.

“I don’t know. Maybe?” She rolled her head on the pillow to look at me. “Though I wouldn’t say comfortable is the right word. At least not with some of you.”

“Some? You’re not comfortable with all of us?”

She scoffed. “Are you kidding me? Ezra might as well be holding a sign saying, ‘don’t come near me if you want to live,’ and don’t get me started on Cyn.”