Page 157 of Devil Inside

“What’s one more drink gonna hurt?” he asks.

All eyes are on me. The whole bar. Practically everyone in this fucking place is possessed.

Am I the only single person here?

I try to push past this possessed asshole, but the second I make my move, his hand is pressed flat against my chest, pushing back.

I hadn’t noticed my new friend from the bar sliding up behind me. She’s got a shot in her hand, which she brings up to my lips and tips. Most of it makes its way down my throat.

“Down the hatch...”

There’s the burn. I’m coughing whiskey.

“Forget Lilith,” she says. “What can she offer you that we can’t?”

“Plenty of fish in the sea,” Blondie offers. “You just gotta let us in.”

The pressure of bodies tightens. I hadn’t realized everyone was closing in. The people at the bar, the tables, nearly everyone in here, they’re all surrounding me.

Raising their glasses. A toast to me.

Nobody drinks. I’m getting bathed in booze. Anointed in alcohol. It all comes showering down, drenching me, until I feel the singe in my skin.

“Drink! Drink! Drink!”

Their lips loosen. Cheeks sag until they look like jelly jowls. The bags under their eyes pucker and drip. Their cheeks slacken into taffy, their jaws weighed down until they look as if they’re about to fall right off. Their noses crater, sinking into themselves, leaving behind nothing but these hollow sockets in the center of their faces. Laughing through it all.

“Drink! Drink! Drink!”

I push through. I shove my shoulder between the weakest link in the crowd and plow my way out of Ipanema. I can hear their voices behind me, their laughter trailing after me outside, into the streets. They’re behind me. Right behind me. Closing in, I just know. But the second I turn—

I’m alone.

The door to the Ipanema slowly closes, on its own. I get a passing glance at the people inside, milling about and drinking as if nothing were out of sorts, nothing at all.

Except for the one lady at the bar. She gives me a wink as she raises her glass, one last toast before the door closes, sealing shut, sealing me out.

damnation on the dance floor

Lilith

I want to lose myself on the dance floor. Let the music fill me. Consume me. A fire scorching this skin. The beat is all I need. A pulse to prove I’m alive.

That I have a heart.

We’re at a house party. These people have opened their doors and welcomed their friends in, cramming into nearly every corner. The humidity is thick in the living room, where the music is at its loudest.

I’ve come with Cara. She’s my wingwoman for the night. We enter the center of the dance floor together, then split up. We’ll circle back later. Time to test the waters. See who’s up for grabs. Who’s available.

This vessel will do. A weak Chablis. Too much acidity. Loose skin. I feel no connection, so I abandon him—ditching this vehicle and hot-wiring another—and another—and another—until I find a host worth lingering in. Never forever. Just enough for now.

Find a pulse. Keep the beat.

Keep dancing.

See all the others sweating around us. Chests heaving. We can make a cesspool of this place, pressing every vessel further into oblivion.

A little nudge here, a little nudge there...