Six a.m., and while his neighbors were still peacefully dreaming, Kyle was shampooing the living room carpet. Considering how messy Ryka often was, he thought the industrial-strength carpet cleaner may have the best investment he’d ever made. It had saved him having to replace the rug before, and was about to do so again. And if, this time, it also washed away the evidence of Ryka’s assault on the burglar, then it was a worthy investment indeed.

This mess had spread much farther than it should have. At some point, Ryka’s victim had pissed himself, and urine-diluted blood had seeped out in a several-foot diameter splotch around where the man had been standing. Not that his injuries had been insubstantial, but things looked somehow even worse.

Bile began to rise in his throat as Kyle watched the blood, turned pink and foamy by the soap, work its way up into the machine. He took a deep breath and forced himself not to dwell on the negative. Human blood, at least, was easily removed. The demon-human mix that ran through his veins stubbornly resisted all cleaning efforts.

“You doing okay?” Adam asked from the doorway, startling Kyle. He had completely forgotten that he had a guest. A guest who had witnessed the events of the previous night.

He switched off the carpet cleaner. “Don’t worry about me. Are you … I mean, uh … how about you?” When there was no response, Kyle looked up, only to find his friend staring in horror at the mess that had so recently been preoccupying him. “Adam?”

“S-sorry. I’m fine.” He certainly didn’t sound it.

“I’m not trying to sound like I’m kicking you out, because I’m not, but maybe you should find a safer place to stay.”

“Actually, I think I might be able to go back home today anyhow.” He sounded relieved, and Kyle felt the same way. Though he was still too nice not to play the helpful house guest. “Do you want a hand with that?”

“No thanks. Not that things like this happen often, but really, we’ve had worse messes. Much worse.”

Tip-toeing around the enormous stain, Adam made his way to the kitchen and poured a mug of coffee for himself, and one for Kyle. “Worse than this?” Looking at the size of the mess, he wondered how it had been possible for the burglar to have walked away from his encounter with Ryka. But he had clearly heard the man leaving when he had finally regained consciousness the night before.

“When we made the contract,” Kyle started, forcing Adam to refocus on him. He was surprised to find that before the expected pallor, Adam’s face turned a startling shade of crimson when their eyes met for a moment. Kyle briefly worried that not at all the marks from the night before had faded - a particularly large one on his neck had lingered past the others - but he’d been sure he was in the clear.

Ignoring Adam’s reaction for now, he continued, “I guess we both lost half our blood. It seemed like more. It was everywhere. My mattress was soaked through. The walls were covered. Even the ceiling … and I had to pull out the carpet myself. Under that … shit.” Unable to finish his thought, Kyle turned the cleaner back on and resumed his work.

But he was only able to continue on for another few minutes before the gore overwhelmed him. Hand over his mouth, he sprinted to the bathroom. He emerged shortly afterward, dabbing at the corners of his lips with a tissue and looking ashamed. Refusing to make eye contact with Adam, he reached for his coffee. It wouldn’t settle his stomach, but it would get the taste out of his mouth. “You think I’d be used to it by now,” he mumbled.

“I’d be worried if you were.”

Kyle looked up, and forced a smile. “I guess. Sometimes it’s actually ours, though. If he grows, he bleeds. Not this much, but still.” Every time Kyle was forced to clean up after one of Ryka’s growth spurts, he couldn’t help but think back to the beginning of their relationship. “It was really bad after the first night, though. I was bleeding from everywhere. Ears, eyes, mouth, my nails … fuck, I think my scalp, too. I pissed blood for a week.” After a pause during which Kyle tried to stop himself from shaking, he finished, “He causes me so much trouble.”

“But you still love him.” Spoken like someone suffering from the affliction himself.

“He’s pushing it this week.”

“I think that’s usually Kate’s line.”

Kyle laughed, at least until he glanced back toward the living room. “I should finish that before it sets in any more.”

“Then I think I’ll hop in the shower.” An excuse if Kyle had ever heard one; but if he could have avoided facing this disaster, too, he certainly would have.

Kyle set down his mug and got back to work. Between the shower and the cleaner, Adam wouldn’t be able to hear him. Time to get some of those answers he’d been unable - and eventually unwilling - to ask after the night before. “What did you do to him?”

The answer was slow in coming. You were there.

“Aside from that. You said something else. And why’s he blushing whenever he looks at me? Or is that for you?”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

I just helped him get some sleep.

“And what does that mean?”

It’s a little incubus trick – I influenced his dreams.

Over the sound of the cleaner, Kyle could hear his blood drumming in his ears. He froze to the spot, nauseous, but not from the mess. Thoughts of the dreams Ryka had made for them flashed through his mind. “You did what?” What he’d done to Adam had been bad enough, but this was worse still. This felt like a betrayal.

No! Not like that. What I did last night, and the times before, is just for us. We both have control of that. This is different. I planted a seed, and his imagination ran with it. I know he dreamed something kinky, but I don’t know exactly what. What we did is completely different. I swear.

This was only mildly comforting. “Please don’t do anything like that again.”

Fine.

“Promise me, Ryka.”

I promise. Happy?

“Happier. There’s still this,” Kyle replied, motioning at the mess on the floor. Ryka grumbled something in response, but Kyle ignored him and resumed cleaning.

He had only been at it a minute when he heard the doorbell. Cursing under his breath, Kyle started for the door, but stopped halfway. “Ry? Ryka, is it the cops? Ryka?”

No.

Only slightly less nervous, Kyle finally opened the door. Standing on the other side, anxiously chewing his lower lip, was Steve. But he heaved a relieved sigh as soon as he saw it was Kyle who answered. “Oh, thank God. You’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Why?”

That question was answered when Kyle looked down to find a rusty trail leading from his front door out into the street. Dried blood, and lots of it. He was going to try to explain it when he caught Steve peeking past him into the living room. At the stain, still only partially removed, and the carpet cleaner waiting at the scene.

Now panicking, Kyle, began, “He tripped. The coffee table … he, uh …” He knew the words he wanted to say, but just couldn’t seem to spit them out. His trembling started again, and he could sense his neighbor’s suspicion growing.

“You know, I should head back,” Steve said. The color had completely washed from his face, and sweat was beading on his forehead. Concern for his neighbor’s safety turned into worry for his own.

In his gut, Kyle knew that Steve wanted to dash home and call the police. Something that would only end in more bloodshed. Ryka had promised as much. “I know how this looks. Do you want some coffee? I can explain over -”

But Steve was shaking his head and backing slowly away. Kyle knew that he wasn’t very persuasive, but he also knew he needed to stop his neighbor from getting anyone else involved. Desperate, Kyle pleaded with him again. “Please come in?”

“Sorry.” With that, Steve turned his back on Kyle and started for home. He hadn’t even made it off the doorstep when he felt an incredible pressure close around his bicep. Try as he might, he couldn’t manage another step forward.

“Oh, but we insist,” a deep, rough voice told him. A heartbeat’s worth of panic, then he hauled off his feet. Air knocked from his lungs, he landed on the living room floor. The black spots that temporarily obscured his vision cleared just in time for him to look up into his captor’s face.

Steve was sure that the monster glaring down at him, with glowing red eyes and a shark’s deadly grin, was not the man he knew to be Kyle Saunders. “Maybe you’re not as stupid as I thought you were,” Ryka growled, resting a foot on Steve’s chest. “Then again, you were the one who called the cops last night, right?”

Although he felt like he was dooming himself, Steve nodded. “Only because I saw that guy walk right by my bedroom window, heading this way. I was just trying to help.”

“What’s that saying your species has? The road to Hell is paved with good intentions? You’re getting dangerously close.”

Swallowing hard, Steve tried to squirm his way out from under Ryka’s foot, but the demon had him securely pinned to the floor. “I’m sorry,” he said, quickly giving up the struggle. “I’m really sorry. I’ll do anything.”

“Could be fun,” Ryka teased, leering at Steve. He really did have a nice ass. Ruining it would be fun. Except Ryka was still in deep shit with Kyle. Probably best to let this opportunity pass. “But I’ll just impart some neighborly advice: leave.”

“Leave? I’ll go home right now.”

The monster shook its head. “You’ll have to go farther than that to get away from me.”

“Farther? You mean, like, move out?”

“Exactly like that.”

“Now?”

“Last night would have been better. And I also suggest forgetting everything you’ve seen since yesterday morning. Because if you tell anyone, I’ll show you just how short that road to Hell really is.” With a throaty growl, Ryka’s shadow sprang up behind him, opening his mouth just enough to allow a small glimpse of the burning pits that every mortal instinctively feared.

Steve was nodding enthusiastically. “I’ll go pack right now. So, please ….”

Without another word, Ryka removed his foot. Steve jumped up and bolted for the exit. The door drifted close behind him and Ryka strolled back toward the kitchen, pace leisurely in comparison to Steve’s sprint to safety.

That was uncharacteristically nice of you.

“It would have been too much effort just to get a good meal out of him,” Ryka replied, suddenly dropping to his knees. “Oh, fuck.”

What’s wrong?

Blinking rapidly, Ryka shook his head. “Tired,” the demon replied, sounding as though that one word was almost too long of a response.

Go back to sleep.

“But, I -” Whatever it was Ryka wanted to say, Kyle never found out. Two syllables in, and the demon was out, Kyle hearing - but thankfully not feeling - the “thud” as Ryka slumped to the floor.

To his surprise, Kyle awoke instantly, although he would have preferred not to find himself only inches from the nearly-dried pool of blood. Already, Ryka was snoring away, so he didn’t even bother to wish him sweet dreams.

He had just started cleaning again when Adam stepped out of the bathroom. “Was someone here?” he inquired. “I thought I heard the doorbell.”

Knowing full well that Adam didn’t feel nearly as relaxed as he looked, Kyle thought it best to keep him in the dark about Steve’s visit. Ryka may not have been able to lie, but Kyle could, and this was one of those times he felt he should. “Nope. No one at all.” Taking a page from Ryka’s book, he steered the conversation elsewhere. “More coffee?”