How to Lose a Demon in 10 Days by Saranna DeWylde

like it one bit.
    The drink was delivered, and she took a sip of the hot, blackberry-flavored vodka. It burned all the way down, but damn was it good. Grace motioned for another. And then another. She wasn’t sure, but she may have even had a couple more after that. They sure went down easy after the tongue and throat tingled into numbness. Soon she was lit up like a Christmas tree and her nose could have easily been mistaken for Rudolph’s. Her cheeks were also a ruddy hue, and her pupils were small. And her heels were so very, very high.
    She teetered backwards and almost fell off the bar stool, colliding with the wide, hard expanse of a chest that smelled of cherry cigar. It was hot and familiar, and it wasn’t Caspian. A grip on her upper arms steadied her. Those hands were deceptively gentle.
    “ ‘Are you lonesome tonight? Do you miss me tonight?’ ” a heavy Russian accent cooed in her ear, in unison with the King on the jukebox.
    Grace struggled to pull free, but Michael’s grip tightened, holding her there. She reached for more Russian Tea instead, planning to throw it in his face. Michael knew her too well, though, and pushed the glass out of reach.
    “Let me go,” Grace said in a voice that even she didn’t believe held any power.
    “If you wanted me to let go, you wouldn’t be here.” His fingers trailed down the pale skin of her arms.
    “I want to know about Nikoli.”
    “So rude, Grace. Do I need to remind you of your manners? I’m being so patient with you, and this is how you repay me?”
    She said, “You’re being patient by waiting for me to kill myself instead of doing it for me, you mean?” She didn’t mention the details Sasha had revealed and neither of them mentioned that this was the first time they’d spoken without lawyers in years.
    He was digging half-moon marks into her skin with the pressure of his fingertips. “I haven’t taken revenge for this latest little stunt of yours, have I? I even let you leave me. Nadja said I should have killed you for abandoning me and our son like you did.”
    Abandoning them? He was the one who’d kicked her out and taken her child from her arms. “Our son. There is no son.” Was what Sasha said true? She needed Michael to confirm it.
    His mouth was close to her ear now, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t you remember our beautiful boy suckling at your breast? Don’t you remember the pain of giving birth?”
    Grace doubled over. She felt like she’d been slammed into an iron maiden, bombarded with sudden, stark memories of Nikoli and how she’d struggled to push him from her body. How the doctor told Michael in quiet tones that they would both die unless Grace made a choice. She could see the doctor’s face before her now; he was asking her to choose . . . Only, he wasn’t part of a memory. He was in her mind’s eye, asking to trade her life for her son’s. His fresh white coat was so bright it blinded her. He told her the pain would stop. All she had to do was say the words, and the memories, the pain, the suffering, it would all stop. She was ready. She would tumble into darkness with the name of her son on her lips and her heart full of a mother’s love.
    There came a strange buzzing in her ears, and also Michael’s voice. There was chanting, and Ethelred shimmered into her field of vision. The room began to spin and she could hear her own voice chanting words she didn’t recognize. Clarity hit her like a brick: Michael was using magick to make her feel this way, magick he’d gotten from Ethelred. If she agreed to die for him, for her son, Michael’s deal would be fulfilled and he would become a demon. Just like he wanted.
    She didn’t know where that knowledge came from, but the influence of the blackberry vodka was suddenly gone and so was Michael’s manipulative magick. Grace wanted to scan the room to see who was helping her, for someone had to be; her sudden realization had come from somewhere. But she