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You woke to a sharp ringing noise which cut through the haze of images in your mind. They kept shifting so you couldn’t keep a firm hold of anything, like water through you fingers. Save for a few things - a tall figure hidden in a blur of dark, red mist. His deep, echoing laughter that sent a tremor through you, digging under your skin until it settled in your bones.
Then a sting on your finger. In your peripheral vision, the shadow of something, a claw maybe, retreated into the shadows. You would have thought you imagined it if it weren’t for the tiniest drop of blood blooming on the tip of your finger. In the darkness, it glittered like ruby.
And when something wet touched your cheek, you jolted up in bed.
Blinking against the brightness in your room, you found your cat staring at you. With a meow, he bumped his face against yours, and you knew he wouldn’t stop nuzzling until you actually got up. “Alright, I’m up, I’m up,” you said with a laugh.
As you rolled out of bed, something fluttered down. It was a piece of paper with singed edges. There were symbols scrawled on it. For a moment they seemed unrecognizable, but looking at them longer, the symbols started to make sense, until they became letters and letters became words. And when you finally understood what had been written, your stomach dropped.
“The undersigned has sold their soul for magical powers and a familiar.”
You were distantly aware of your cat rubbing against your arm, begging to be fed, but there was a ringing in your ears, a dull roar of blood rushing to escape you.
And through the roar, a voice. Deep. Echoing.
“Master,” the voice drawled. “Your breakfast is ready.”
Bored.
“What the fuck,” you muttered as you jumped to your feet. Was there an intruder in your apartment?
You spun around your room, and grabbed the nearest thing you could find—a broom with a metal handle.
Heart pounding, you approached the door and twisted the knob slowly so it wouldn’t make a noise. The scent of bacon grease was unmistakable as well—mouth-watering as you pressed yourself against the door in hopes to muffle whatever sound might escape.
But in hindsight, you shouldn’t have bothered. Because as soon as it opened, your cat zipped past, running for the kitchen.
Fear gripped your heart like a fist as horrifying, deathly images of your cat being hurt by the intruder flashed in your mind’s eye.
You watched his fluffy, white frame race down the hallway; it wouldn’t take long for him to reach the corner turning to the kitchen. And you wanted nothing more than for him to be back in your room. Please, please, please, please, you silently begged to whatever god was listening, tears already stinging your eyes.
Then suddenly, something tugged in your gut, making you double back. One hand clutched at the door frame, while the other on your midsection as you gasped through the pain.
With hazy hazy vision, you watched your cat. Another step and he’d reach the turn. No.
In the next blink, your cat, who was about to make the turn, vanished.
That’s when the air was knocked out of you, and for the next few minutes, you were nothing but lit up nerve-endings, curled up on the floor, gasping through your teeth with your arms wrapped like bands around your middle—the only things holding you together.
Through the cotton filling your head, you heard the soft thump of footsteps. And when you opened your eyes, a pair of bare feet stopped before you.
A sigh. “So this is what I’ve been bonded to.”
Your gaze trailed up and up, past strong legs clad in tight-fitting leather, to an expanse of bare, bronze skin and muscle. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips at the sight of the red rivulets snaking through his skin, rivers of blood that all seemed to flow from a ruby as large as your fist, embedded in the center of his chest like an exposed heart.
You scrambled away till you hit the edge of your bed with an oomph, never taking your eyes off of him. Neither did he, it seemed, his ruby red gaze looking you up and down—as if measuring you.
“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” You spat at him, surprised at how steady your voice was.
He scoffed. “Unfortunately for the both of us, I go where you go.”
You must’ve made a face because the stranger sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this was the last thing he wanted to deal with today. He muttered something to himself, but it was too low for you to hear.
Then finally, after running his fingers through his ash-colored hair, he faced you once again, his shoulders sagging in resignation. “Come on,” he said, turning away. “I’ll explain while you have breakfast. Food’s getting cold.”
As you watched his retreating figure, only then did you notice the horns on his head. Like—literal, black, ram-like horns pointing up.
You jumped when something brushed against your arm. It was your cat, emerging from under the bed. He meowed once at you, rubbing against your leg, before following the stranger.
At that moment, you remembered the singed piece of paper you’d woken up with earlier. The note written on it.
Could it…no. You shook your head as rose to your feet, and every limb ached in protest as if you’d run a marathon yesterday.
Whoever he was and whatever was happening, you were grateful that he at least thought to feed you first thing in the morning.