24. THE DEMON SAID: "IF THEY AREN'T DEAD, YOU CAN STILL KILL THEM."

If you could flick a switch and open your third eye

You'd see that we should never be afraid to die

So, come on

Rise up and take the power back.

(Uprising, Muse)

On Thursday, after his—now lavishly usual—morning bath, Set walked into the living room, aiming for the kitchen. The late night's wine had left his stomach growling. He wanted to taste a good hot breakfast, but what caught his eye, instead of Maria arranging croissants and coffee on the terrace's table, was a man in a white suit and Panama hat.

He had his back turned to Set and was absorbed into the task of rearranging the contents of a black briefcase, placed over the dark wooden surface. The perfectly fitting suit boosted his Asian built—broad, straight shoulders and narrow hips culminating in long legs—giving him a lean, natty figure, while the hat added that touch of eccentricity that befitted Sybil the most. Even from the back, he seemed taller and more imposing than usual.

The boy patted his shoulder and the briefcase shut closed with a clank before the man turned around to face him. A pair of small round glasses rested upon his straight nose.

"Good morning, Set," he said gently as a soft smile curved his lips.

The boy glanced at the bag behind Sybil's back, then his eyes trailed over the man's body, scanning him from head to toe. Dressed up as a creepy businessman—as beautiful as he might be—the man looked like Sybil's evil twin.

"What are you doing?" the boy asked, raising his brows and skipping the small talk.

"I've got a ten-thirty tea time with an old client of mine," Sybil replied smoothly, his voice taking a twist to the businessman style too.

Set drew a step closer. "Is this a tie?" He wrapped his fingers around the black cloth, sliding them down the silky fabric until it slipped all out of the elegant, white jacket.

"So it seems." A soft chuckle escaped Sybil's pearly-pink lips.

Set had the impression that the man disliked western clothing and couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with his look. "Why are you hiding your hair?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Sybil slipped his right hand inside the jacket, ignoring the question. He took out a dark leather wallet and stretched a hundred bucks toward the boy, making Set's eyebrows twitch further—the poor Oracle never dealt with petty cash.

"As expected, Maria is not here. Please go to Caffè Palermo for breakfast," Sybil instructed, as relaxed as a car salesman who knows the deal is already done.

"Where is your appointment?" Set inquired, staring straight into the man's eyes.

Sybil waved the bill in front of the boy's face. "Go to the café," he repeated with a sly smile as his eyes glanced at the door in a subtle invitation.

Set glared at the money. Brusquely, he pushed down the man's hand, and pulled the tie like a leash, forcing Sybil to lean in and stare down into his eyes. "Where?" he pressed.

Instead of pulling back, Sybil drew an inch away from Set's face. "The Night Hotel," he purred as his eyelids slid down, turning his eyes into dark slits.

Set didn't back off—he grimaced instead. "Isn't that the place where Green is staying?"

Sybil ditched the question again. "Be a good boy, won't you? Take the money and go," he whispered in his mellow voice, but his eyes were still threatening.

"No. I come with you. With that much you can pay for my breakfast and yours at the hotel," Set countered.

Sybil drew even closer, slightly tilting his head. His lips almost brushed against Set's before he moved to the side to reach the boy's ear. "No, I say," he hissed—his warm breath tickling Set's skin—before he thrust the bill into the boy's pocket.

Set's eyes widened, shivers running down his neck up to the tip of his fingers—his grip on the tie loosened. Sybil took the chance to slip it out of the boy's hand and, as he straightened, he adjusted it back to its original place. He turned to the briefcase and picked it up, holding it in his right hand before walking inside.

Getting back to his senses, the boy tailed him. Snarling, he grabbed the man's arm to face him again but, before he could bark in disagreement, the Oracle spoke. "If you are that worried about me, I would remind you that—according to my prophecy—I'm going to die in your arms. Hence, it would be more dangerous going with you than going alone, right?" He gave the boy a knowing smile. "Do what I said, and don't mess with the dog when you see him."

At the mention of the prophecy, an inexplicable fear gripped Set's heart. He let go of Sybil's arm and—out of sheer spite—he snatched the man's hat, shoving it on his own head. For a fleeting moment, the cascade of ivory strands, slipping down Sybil's shoulders, caught his eye. He suppressed the impulse to touch it and, looking away, he stepped back to a safer distance.

His experience as a janky told him that he had already become addicted. With a sneering grin, he fished the bill out of his pocket and flashed it in the man's face.

"Then you come with me—and I'll buy you breakfast," he insisted.

Sybil huffed, yet an amused light glinted in his eyes. "That dog is there now. Weren't you trying to keep me away from him?" he questioned with an annoyingly paternal tone.

"You said they are going to shoot you in a room, in front of a window, overlooking Central Park—" Set pointed at the glass, facing the park "—not in a café," he noted, stepping closer again. "Like this." He mimicked the gun with his hand, pushing his index finger against the man's chest, right over his heart. "Bang," he slowly whispered.

Sybil closed his eyes, surrendering quietly, but guilt clutched the boy's heart as if he'd actually tried to shoot the Oracle. Set bit his bottom lip and his hand shifted position to rest his palm upon Sybil's chest. He tried to sense the beating of the man's heart through the fabric, but it was too faint.

Freed by the thud of the briefcase hitting the floor, the Oracle's hand pulled Set in a gentle embrace. As usual, Sybil's peaceful warmth enveloped the boy, reaching up to his heart and dissolving all his fears. Set didn't move, he breathed deeply, taking in the man's sweet scent, and closed his eyes, losing himself in the contact. Sybil's left hand slipped up to cup his cheek. Set didn't budge until the man's thumb stroked his bottom lip.

His eyes flung open, meeting the man's intense gaze. A weird sensation stirred his guts and a pinch of embarrassment forced him to look away.

"You do like me, don't you?" Sybil whispered, a smile hidden in his words.

"I'm coming with you," the boy insisted, but his voice sounded softer and he couldn't bring himself to look at the other.

"As much as I enjoy your company—I'm not changing my mind," Sybil replied firmly.

He let go of Set and snatched back his hat. He bent on himself to fit in his hair and then straightened up, adjusting it on his head. While the man flattened his suit and slipped the gold ring off his finger, Set kept thinking what else he could say to dissuade him. Before he could find anything, Sybil grabbed his hand and placed the jewel on his palm, pushing his fingers to close around it. He then took out of his trouser's pocket a weird pendant and slipped the silver chain around the boy's neck.

Set gave him a puzzled look as the ring's energy ran down his arm, filling his body in a sinister, yet pleasant way.

"Keep the ring with you, but—whatever happens—don't let anybody see it or touch it," Sybil instructed him, his voice even mellower than usual. "That's the one thing you should do if you want to keep me safe, okay?" He patted the boy's head while a smile curved his lips.

Set nodded, confusion leaving him speechless.

"Also, give this message to the dog." Sybil handed him a small piece of paper, folded in four.

Set's face darkened as he took it, but Sybil didn't say anymore and just turned around.

While the man wrapped himself up in a wide, white shawl, picked up his bag and headed to the door, the boy inspected all he had been given. The pendant was round, in the inner circle the metal created an odd pattern with some curves and crosses of different sizes, placed in various angles, while between the inner and outer circle, an inscription read the words Glasya Labolas*. The boy had never heard it before, but Astaroth awakened and hissed incomprehensible words. Set unfolded the small paper—

Suscitabo ego pactum meum tecum et scies quia ego magister.

(I'll establish my covenant with you and you'll know I am the master.)

The boy shook his head. It didn't make any sense to him, but Astaroth snickered. The ring's energy seemed to be resonating with the demon in a particular way, strengthening his presence and yet keeping it calm.

Set brought the jewel up to his eyes and stared at the weird inscriptions, carved within three concentric circles on the front. They were illegible but striking, almost giving the impression they could jump out of the living gold.

"Do you like it?" Sybil's low voice came from over his shoulder.

"What if I do? Can I keep it?" Set asked ironically, turning his head to give him a skeptical glance.

"Till death do us apart." Sybil chuckled as he pulled back and headed to the entrance door. "See you at lunch, darling," he teased, sending the boy a flying kiss before leaving the apartment.

As soon as he was left alone, Set burst out laughing at himself. That crazy man was even more unreasonable than him, plus he had an outright creepy sense of humor. It was absurd, thinking that somebody like him could become irreplaceable.

Still, that was it.

Set snorted, and his hands ran to his head, messing his hair up. He cussed and not bothering to adjust them back, he headed outside.

He reluctantly dragged his dead weight to the café, trying to keep his mind from imagining how many things could go wrong.

As he approached the place, the first thing he saw was Maria, yakking with a spray-tanned jock that sat at one of the outer tables. The blond man looked like he just stepped off the cover of Surfing—the type of guy that would get basically any woman to put her hormones ahead of her brain. Never being treated the same way wounded Set's male pride. As he stalked there, he grabbed a newspaper left on one of the empty tables and rolled it up in his hand. When he reached, Maria still had her back turned on him. Pulling an evil grin, he smacked her ass with the paper.

"Hi there, honey," he said, his smile stretched like the ass of a Christmas' turkey.

Maria jerked and turned around, her hand flying in the air ready to crush whoever had dared to hit her. Her swing stopped an inch away from Set's face, her eyes widening as she recognized him.

"Set...!" Relief lit her face and the word escaped her mouth before she could bite her tongue.

Set noticed that she suppressed her usual talking-without-thinking, even if she was obviously eager to submerge him with questions—about Sybil most probably. He threw the paper on the surfer's table and thrust his hands into his pockets. In the right, he hid the message Sybil had given him, in the left, his fingers brushed against the ring. He looked down at the man—catching a flickering scowl—before his eyes trailed back to Maria's.

"Where's my kiss, babe?" he asked, taking advantage of her silence.

Her brows twitched, furrowing and relaxing straight away—Set knew she had to keep up the good girl's face at work.

"Come on, no kidding," she replied with a giggle and pulled her lovely waitress' smile. "Why don't you go sit inside and think about what to order?" she suggested, nice and helpful, slightly narrowing her eyes at him.

Set smirked before he took a step closer and bent over her shoulder. "Who did you sleep with last night?" he whispered in her ear.

She went pale but didn't budge. "It's none of your business," she hissed.

As if he had super-hearing abilities, the surfer stood up, took a step closer and stretched his hand toward Set. "Nice to meet you. I'm Joe—Maria's new friend," he stated in a firm and not at all friendly tone.

Set glared at his hand before bringing his eyes back up to the man's face. He pulled away from Maria and made the effort to release his clenched jaw before speaking. "Ah. So, you're the one she slept with," he snarled.

"Right." The man chortled despite Set's glower. His hand stayed out in a frigid gesture of politeness, while his eyes trailed down to glance at the pendant, clinging to Set's neck, for a moment too long. "I see that news travel fast around here."

"They sure as hell do."

The boy moved past Maria, standing right in front of the—several inches taller—surfer. Ignoring his imposing aura and outstretched hand, Set looked up, confronting his icy stare. The boy's eyes narrowed, his fingers clutched around the paper in his pocket.

"Now, I'd tell you to go fuck yourself, but first..." He slipped out the folded piece of paper and held it in front of the man's face. "You've got mail."

The blond glanced at the Set's hand and took a deep breath. "Easy, kid. Fucking off a police officer could backfire." A shining smile curved his lips in sharp contrast with his freezing blue eyes. "Now, what do we do?" he asked, stretching his hand further toward Set and bending over to impose on him.

Set's eyes shot to Maria, finding a severe nod. The boy's gaze trailed back to the policeman's hand. Chills ran down his spine at the idea of touching him. He swallowed hard and held his breath.

How could he possibly be a cop? Was that the reason Sybil had said not to mess with him? Did he know about Set's problem?

Set exhaled.

He had just one thing to do.

He grabbed Joe's hand, pressing the paper against his palm.

A current of visions poured into his mind, forcing him to bend forward. He squinted, trying to keep it inside and immediately let go of the other's hand. Still, the dark vortex opened in his head, ready to suck him in. The flow was stronger than usual, and it felt as if somebody down the drain was screaming to get attention.

Set managed to move his left hand, his fingers clasped around Sybil's ring. Its powerful energy poured into his palm, crawling up his arm and spreading to all his body—golden sparkles of light illuminating the darkness and bringing order into the chaos—drawing his consciousness away from the black whirlpool.

For the first time, he could clearly behold the obscure current.

It came from the center of the vortex, unfolding into swirling pictures. Countless people's lives rewound in succession, at unbelievable speed. As an old man grew younger and younger, going back through his life until his birth, another person would take his place with one, blood-chilling refrain. Tortures and murders chased each other with disconcerting ease—it felt like a third rate slasher movie. Set's stomach twisted.

"Hey, kid, are you alright?" the cop's voice reached the boy's ears. It sounded unexpectedly gentle, but what surprised Set the most was that he could actually recognize it. "I didn't mean it, boy. I was just teasing you..." the man added, his hand reaching for Set's shoulder.

The boy winced away from his touch and finally looked up. A good portion of the cop's face was morphing like it was made of some alien liquid substance, even his eye color changed at an unbelievable speed, displaying a whole variety of unnatural shades. A thick, black haze clung to his head—that overlapped the center of the vortex—and slowly ate his features, engulfing them in a dark ball that absorbed all visions until the whole flow stopped. When everything was completely swallowed, the dark globe shape-shifted.

Set's eyes widened as they met a completely different being.

Staring back at him was a black dog with spiked ears and flaming eyes, its mouth stretched in a disturbing smile that exposed his long fangs.

Instinctively, the boy knew that thing was the source of all the man's lives, and it wasn't human. He ran out of breath and his fingers contracted, pressing the ring against his palm. Heat bit his skin as the energy radiating from the gold increased.

The beast tilted its head to the side and again stretched its clawed hand toward him. The boy cowered away, fear clenching his heart. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and winked a couple of times. As long as he held onto the ring, the dog was unchanged. Sybil's voice faintly resonated in his ears—a dog is always a dog to me. Set snickered to himself.

"Don't sweat it, man. I'm just nuts," he said, waving his hand in the air to minimize his words until the gesture turned into a goodbye, his feet already stepping backward toward the door. "I'll take Maria's advice and go inside to have breakfast."

He didn't wait for a reply before he turned around and quickly entered the cafè. As long as he touched the ring, he could have a stable vision. His consciousness had kept in place all the while as the streams—generated by the contact with the man—had connected into that dog's head.

Still, the jewel's energy was burning him from inside.

Sweat dripped down his forehead and his breathing was heavy. His heart struggled to keep up with the pressure—his brain couldn't handle it either like it was too small to contain such an ancestral, extensive knowledge. The ring's sway was so bright and mighty that it could clear everything on its way. Instinctively, Set knew that if he used its power too long, he would wither and go white.

He had to move fast and reach a safe spot, where he could let go of the ring.

His eyes glued to the floor, he walked straight through the hall, heading to the back room. He couldn't make it and he ducked into the toilet. He locked the door and withdrew his hand from the pocket. A red blotch marked his palm where the ring had touched his skin. Breathing heavily, he stumbled to the sink, flung the tab open and thrust his hand under the fresh water. After the stinging sensation was numbed, he leaned his back against the cool tiles of the wall and slid down to the floor. Still breathing heavily, he bent over on himself, waiting for his body to recover.

The faint chattering of people from the café hall and the clattering of dishes being brought out from the kitchen on the other side of the corridor, even the steps of the kitchen boy, kept him on edge for a while. His right hand repeatedly ran over his face and pressed against the rough fabric of his jeans, trying to wipe away the sweat, while his feet nervously tapped the floor. He turned his head to the side and glanced at the full-length glass at the end of the room.

An androgynous being stared back, with a curious look in its deep, wine eyes. Its gentle features—yielding big eyes, full cherry lips, and flawless, pale skin—could belong to an angel, if it wasn't for the vampire-like canines that poked out of its lips as they curved in a seductive smile. Set shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut a couple of times. He took a deep breath before he checked again. It was gone. He gazed at his own reflection—a rugged version of his stylish new look—and pulled his hair back before he tried to sort things out in his mind.

Sybil had been right. The dog was there and Maria didn't know it.

It wouldn't take long before the girl could get an opening and came looking for him, with questions. Set had no idea what answers he should give. He couldn't even explain what that dog was. Maybe it was for the best to get the hell out of there and reach Sybil.

He scratched his head and stood when a strong knock on the door made him wince. He carefully opened it, finding Vito—a big smile on his face—carrying a steamy espresso and a cream croissant. The man tilted his head toward the back room, inviting Set to move there.

The boy bit his tongue. He was stuck.

He didn't know how much Vito was involved and, if the man wasn't, Set surely didn't want to drag him in that mess. He had to pretend everything was all right. He nodded and followed.

Laying the cup and plate on the table, the barista gave him an amused once over. Set rested his left palm on the table and frowned at a sting of pain. He needed more time. He forcibly pulled a smile, displaying his dazzling white teeth.

"Bring me two eggs, beans, sausages, bacon, and toast. Ah, and make me an Americano," he listed, fishing the cash from his right pocket just to show it off.

"Sii troppu biddu, mi sbiddianu l'occhi (you are so beautiful it makes my eyes shine), if it wasn't for that sour look that's always stuck on your face, I'd be willing to let you have a date with Maria," Vito mocked cheerfully.

Set gave him a condescending glance before he gestured at the table, inviting the man to bend over.

"Who's the blond?" he asked in a rough, low voice.

Vito's smile faded away. "A detective, investigating that Green guy, and—just between us—mancu a mia piace (I don't like him either)," he whispered and quickly pulled back as the kitchen's boy poked his head in the room with two plates in his hands. "So, give me ten minutes and your breakfast will be here!" Vito almost yelled, back to his usual grin.

When they both left, Set leaned back in his chair. There was no way to find out if that dog was actually a cop. The boy stretched out his legs, the cheery voices from the main hall already enough to make him cringe. Whatever the truth was, for the moment, Set was just useless. He closed his eyes and waited patiently. The best thing to do was keep quiet and make sure that his disorder wouldn't mess things up more than they already were.

Ten minutes later, the one who brought his breakfast was Maria. He mentally thanked his body for being so fast at recovering. She reached him with confident, wide steps, a big tray in her hands. As she bent over the small table, Set noticed that the peachy scent of her conditioner didn't slap him in the face as usual. She hadn't straightened her curls either and a few strands fell over her forehead. He scowled at the thought that maybe she didn't have time for showering in the morning.

She placed the tray in front of him before her hands ran to pull her hair back. He clicked his tongue, swearing internally, as she leaned on the side of the table, arms crossed.

"What about Sybil? Does he know? Did he tell you anything?" She blew out all that was bothering her, casting him a nervous glance from over her shoulder.

He rolled his eyes. "No messages, babe. He just sent me to check on you."

She huffed. "As if I've never slept with a man before," she retorted, obviously pissed as hell—confirming Set's theory that women were creatures beyond understanding. "And why would he care? It's not like he is my dad."

Set grabbed the fork and stabbed a perfectly grilled sausage. He brought it to his lips and inhaled the rich smoky smell, his mouth watering. He gobbled it down before answering in the lowest tone he could muster. "You fucked up this time," he hissed, thrusting his fork into the omelet. "Nobody cares who you slept with before yesterday."

She turned around, slapping her hands on the table as she leaned in to stare in his eyes. Her cross pendant swung seductively in front of her breasts. Set tried not to stare. "Cia rotto u cazzu. Smetti di fari na sta manera (I'm tired of your bullshit. Stop doing like that)," she swore in her native language, her right hand moving up in a slow, controlled way. Her narrowed eyes telling that she itched to slap him.

Set jerked back, afraid she might actually touch him.

She snorted and stood back. "Si po' sape' chi vo' (what's the matter with you)? Vo' farmi incazza' (do you want to piss me off)? È questo chi vo' (is that what you want)? Because, if so, you are doing great."

Set was familiar enough with her Sicilian swearing that he could grab the gist of it. It was kind of cute that she would banter in her mother tongue whenever she was pissed. He shook his head, looking up at her.

Taken aback she bit her lip. "I'm just pissed that he prefers you," she whispered. Her big eyes molten like she could cry, but she managed to keep it together and picked the empty tray back up.

Set plucked a piece of bacon and looked up at the ceiling, throwing it in his mouth. That wasn't his fault. She had no reason for bitching with him when he actually liked her. "You fucked the dog," he spat back as he chewed gracelessly.

Maria raised her brows. "Ca minchia dici (what the fuck are you talking about)?" she asked, bewildered.

Set didn't reply. He was getting unsteady with her heavy stare boring into his head, still he cleared the rest of his omelet in two bites, trying to focus on the juicy taste before he brought his eyes back to hers. She had grown pale, realizing that something was definitely off. If he told her now, she would freak out and the dog would know.

He pulled a smile and pointed at it with his index finger. "Go back to work. When the cop leaves, let's go upstairs and talk," he said in a whisper.

She was about to counter, but his eyes turned to slits as he hissed, "Go, now."

Instead of smiling, Maria pouted. Still, she turned around and stormed to the café's kitchen to get another order sorted.

Set brought his eyes back to the plate and there he kept them until all the food was gone. He then focused on his coffee, slowly sipping it and letting the bitter taste take over all his attention. As he reached the bottom of the white mug, his eyes shifted up to search for Maria.

He followed her movements, every time she came back and forth from the hall to the kitchen. He gritted his teeth wondering for how long the bastard would be there. He glanced at the shelves packed with liquors on his right—something strong would do him good—before he stood and climbed a few steps of the stairs that led to the first floor. He sat there to wait, his eyes glued to the storeroom entrance.

A few minutes later, Maria showed up, holding in her hands her tobacco's pouch. A touch of red lingered on her cheek while her eyes seemed brighter. Set stood, running a hand through his hair as he gazed at her. He guessed that she probably had seen the cop off, and he felt an illogical pang of guilt for what he was about to tell her. Bowing his head, he stretched his arm out in a welcoming gesture, inviting her to lead the way. She didn't move, looking up at him, surprise all over her face and her lips slightly parted.

"You know, seeing you now ... you sure look different," she murmured, studying him.

Set smiled. "Adorable, ain't I?" he mocked.

She shook her head as if she knew him too well to give him credit, but a little smile tugged at the side of her mouth. "Very," she admitted.

His eyes widened, a bubble of warmth popping up in his belly and surfacing on his cheeks. "Let's go upstairs," he said, quickly turning around.

Maria giggled, and suddenly it felt as if their arguments had never happened. She quickly took the stairs up and led the way to her apartment.

It was a small, cozy flat, very ordinary, and quite modest—nothing like Sybil's grandeur. Every time Set had stepped in, the feeling of being at home had warmed his heart. He took in the neat living room with its dark-red sofa and flat TV, his gaze lingering on the yellowish-brown tiles of the floor. This time, his chest tightened.

He hadn't been there since Susy's death.

A flash of light cut through his mind. She had gentle hazelnut eyes and light-brown curls falling down to her morbid hips, soft features, and a motherly attitude. She smelled of lilies. Set closed his eyes, focusing on his memory.

Susan used to invite him in.

While Vito would work at the cafe all week, she had managed to get two days off, asking Maria to take her place. On those days, she'd welcome Set with a warm smile, letting him use the shower while a hot meal waited in the kitchen. When he'd ask her why, she'd laugh it away, saying she'd always wanted to have a son.

One day, she was gone.

Ever since nobody had called him in. Set had mustered the courage to ask about her once. Vito had said she was dead—nothing else. Maria never brought the subject up and Set couldn't ask anymore.

What happened, he had found out through Sybil.

"Are you okay?" Maria asked.

His eyes shot open, darting up to her face. She stood in front of the kitchen's door, wrapped in a dream-like halo that made her shine. For a moment the image of Susan in his memory had overlapped with hers. He rubbed his eyes and she was back to normal.

"Yeah," he said.

He walked past the girl into the kitchen and dropped into one of the chairs. She'd told him that Vito gave her special permission to smoke in there, in case of emergency. Maria flung open the French window and, as a cool breeze swarmed in, she took a deep breath.

Set's eyes left her back, wandering around the kitchen to end up on the gas stove, tucked into a fake-granite countertop. "Actually, I'm not okay," he admitted.

Snorting, she slumped in the chair beside him. "I know. You've never been okay," she noted.

Set shifted uncomfortably on the chair, stretching his legs under the table. "I've seen it..." He swallowed back while his stare dropped to the black tiles—still he couldn't look at her. "Sybil ... he showed me what happened that day." He inhaled and the heartening aroma of coffee and bread filled his nostrils. "I'm sorry ... I ... I understand now why you're so hung up on him..." He slowly turned his head, bringing his eyes to meet hers.

Maria's gaze dropped down to the tobacco's pouch she had placed on the shining surface of the table. She took out papers and filters, preparing to roll. She shrugged and huffed. "Is that what you wanted to talk about?" she asked, trying to keep a cool tone, but her hands were slightly trembling.

A few pieces of tobacco leaves fell on the smooth, white glass. Set took a deep breath. There was no way to make the truth sound any better.

"That guy—the cop—is Green."

Maria's head jerked up, her widened eyes searching his. The boy leaned back in his chair, a slithering, dark energy awakening in his gut. He threw his head back to stare at the modern flat light on the ceiling. Strong emotions still got to him, making his blood run faster. His eyes half-closed, his tongue ran over his dry lips. He could almost taste her fear. He suppressed the impulse to grab her.

"Joe and Green are the same person?" she whispered.

"Right."

Against his will, his gaze trailed down to her. Maria was shaking her head, all blood drained from her face, panic flooding her eyes.

"They are the same person," he pressed, shivers from the demon's wicked pleasure spreading to his limbs.

Her shaking increased and all the tobacco fell on the table. She was too emotional for her own good. Set bent forward and snatched the paper and filter from her hands. He accidentally brushed her skin and his fingers twitched with the urge of wrapping around her neck, but he managed to fold them and slipped the left hand into his pocket. In a moment, the ring's heat poured into him, taming his demon. Before the flaming light could spread too much, Set let go of the jewel.

"Let me roll," he said, stretching a timid smile.

His hands moved to gather up the tobacco and place it back into the brown paper. Quickly he rolled up the cigarette and handed it to her. Maria put it to her lips but didn't bother to light it. Her eyes dim, she was completely out of it, lost in her thoughts.

Set prepared one more cig, took the lighter out of her pouch and fired both of them. Her breathing was the only sign she hadn't turned into a statue. He stood, looking for an ashtray, but couldn't find it, so he placed a coffee saucer on the table.

After he sat back, he took a deep puff and glanced at the soothing white smoke—its coils carelessly circling Maria's head before drifting out of the window. Shrouded in it, she seemed solid and heavy like a rock.

In Set's wavering mind surfaced the clear memory of the first time Sybil had spoken to him. The Shining White Being could've disappeared into that silvery haze—was he going to? Then, what would happen to all the people he'd helped—to Maria, and Isaac, and him?

It was true that meeting Sybil Vain had changed him. He had felt as though he could go back to being the carefree boy he was before the demon had appeared. His gaze focused back to Maria's troubled face. What a naivety.

"What am I supposed to do now?" she asked, her wavering voice cutting through the mist.

He shrugged before he took another puff. "I'm not sure," he admitted unwillingly. "Have you told the cop about Sybil?" he asked.

He needed to have a clear grasp of how bad the situation was. Maria's face darkened as she bit her lip and nodded.

"I told him that I love Sybil ... that I work for him ... I thought I could ... trust him..." she murmured, guilt twisting her mouth downward. "Damn you, stupid slut," she cursed herself and slapped her own face.

Instinctively, Set grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand down on the table. The dark energy in his lower back throbbed, making his legs shake. His vision blurred as the vortex kicked in. He shut his eyes, finding the ring's flickering light still running in his system. He focused on it and silently pleaded the sacred fire for help. The glows gathered into his heart, packing in a bead of energy that exploded in unbearable brightness before contracting into a dark hole that absorbed all things—as if the vortex rotation sense had been inverted. At the end of the process lay boundless darkness dusted with shimmering freckles, a starry night that recalled Sybil's eyes. Set gasped in a breath, his mind couldn't work out what had happened, but his heart had turned lighter, his body relaxed in the same way they did when the Oracle touched him. He looked up at Maria.

She was staring at their hands, her mouth half-opened. "It's not just the look—you changed," she muttered.

He studied her big, brown eyes and cherry lips, despite the touch her familiar features were still there. The demon hadn't disappeared either, still sniffing the fear that lingered in the air, but it was a quiet yearning like a bigger power had put shackles on it. Set was about to melt with relief. For the first time, he was touching Maria without side effects. The glowing white flame had bewitched the dark beast within his body. A smile curved the boy's lips.

"Whatever happened—it's not your fault. He tricked you," he said, his rough voice taking in an extraordinarily mellow tone.

She shook her head, her gaze still lingering on her left hand held within Set's. "I've signed an NDA, that's why I held back ... If I hadn't signed that ... I could've said everything that came into my head," she cried out, pressing the butt against the saucer before she clenched her right fist, her nails biting at her skin.

Set leaned his cigarette on the edge of the small plate and grabbed her other hand too. He pulled it down on the table, just beside the other one.

"What's an NDA?" he asked, trying to distract her from her self-loathing, while he patiently pushed her fingers open, one by one.

He was fascinated by his new condition. Every little touch gave him a shiver of pleasure. He knew it wasn't a permanent thing, but he wanted to enjoy it as long as it lasted.

"It's a non-disclosure agreement I had to sign before being hired as a housekeeper." She looked up at his eyes, her breath unsteady. "If I tell people about Sybil—or what I'm doing in his house—not only will I lose the job, but I'll also have to pay a one million dollar fine. So, basically, I'll ruin my life."

Entwining his fingers with hers, he chuckled. "He knew you had a big mouth, didn't he? He didn't ask me anything like that," he teased.

Maria glared at him, but a flash of life lit her eyes. "What is he doing now? Is he all right? Is he at home?" she asked.

Set knew that the answer could make her freak out again—the demon sniggered in the back of his mind. He swiftly let go of her hands and picked his cigarette back up.

"He went to the Night Hotel," he tossed, as he lighted it up again.

Surprisingly, Maria didn't budge, yet her eyes turned wet. "He knew that Green would be here..." she noted, her voice as dark as her face.

"He was worried about you," Set pointed out.

Maria's teeth sank into her bottom lip, turning it into a plump-red forbidden fruit. The boy's eyes followed her every movement. Her hands moved up and it looked like she wanted to slap herself again, but she flinched at the powerful ringtone of her own phone. She stood to slip it out of her apron's pocket and gave a worried look at the display before replying.

For a minute, she went into a one-word-answer business talk, walking up and down the room. After she cut off, she slipped her phone back into her pocket and started weeping like a child. Set thrust the cigarette bud into the saucer, suppressing his instinct to hold her. He frowned.

"Just say it before I have a nervous breakdown," he groaned.

She tried to force a smile, tears still rolling down her cheeks, resulting in a mad face. "It was Sybil's assistant. The contract is off," she said. Sobs broke her frenzied voice and she fell down to her knees. One hand clutched to her chest as she gasped in big mouthfuls of air. "I'm ... no longer ... authorized ... to get near ... Mister Vain ... or his house."

Set's slammed his fists on the table, rage vices clamping his stomach. "What kind of sucker play is this? What's the point in firing you?"

Maria brought her hands to her mouth, her lips trembling.

The demon sang its hunger in the back of Set's mind. From the base of his spine, dark energy slithered up the boy's vertebrae, crawling through his body, pushing his blood to pump faster. Set ripped his eyes away from the shaking prey and looked down at the table's glass as he bent over it. He tried to calm his breath. In his head, the vortex was still shut, the stars faintly twinkling in the night. He could make it.

"He ... doesn't know ... we're onto him." His voice came out rougher as he thumped his forehead against the table, focusing on the regular movement to control his impulses. "We have ... to be faster ... and crush him."

Maria's crying stopped abruptly. Silence fell, followed by ruffling of clothes and a foot tapping once on the floor. His ears filled with the echoing of his head thumping, still Set could hear her every move—even her breath, growing steadier. She sniffed. "I'm in. Anything to protect Sybil." Her voice echoed in the kitchen, not wavering anymore.

Set froze—he couldn't suppress it any longer. Her call had become too strong. The demon broke through.

"Anything?" he repeated, driven by its darkness, as he slightly lifted his head to look at her. A wicked smile stretched his mouth, his fangs pressing against his lower lip.

"Anything," she stated.

"Let's take him down then," he hissed as his veins pulsated in his neck, flooded by the overwhelming power.

Maria turned pale. She swallowed and, for a few minutes, she stared in silence into his half-closed, burning eyes. Then, she clenched her fists.

"Let's do it," she said.

The demon's euphoria lifted a weight off of Set and he finally managed to sit back in the chair, his body lighter despite the urge for violence. "When the cop comes back, tell him that Sybil gave you the whole day off," he instructed as he stood, knowing that he needed to leave before he laid a hand on the girl.

Maria jumped up and stumbled to him. "And then what do we do?" she asked nervously.

He glanced back at her from over his shoulder, unexpected words rolling easily off his tongue. "Call Raffae' and ask him for a gun." His surprise for remembering the man's name and the realization that his memory had gotten better cooped up in his heart. A smug smile curved his lips. "Tell him to meet you at the back alley when you go out shopping—you know—by chance."

She took a deep breath, her eyes two shades darker than usual, before she nodded. She didn't ask how he knew about the man.

Set turned away and walked off. He dashed down the stairs before he could harm her in any way. When he got out of the cafe's main door, he took a deep breath. The fresh air soothed his nerves, despite the vibrant bustling of the city's road. He scanned the outer tables and realized that the cop hadn't come back yet.

Maria reached the door and shot him a worried glance, but Set pretended not to notice. Casually waving his hand, he took off.

He was ready to see it through. Knowing that Sybil could handle his outbursts and having the ring in his pocket, gave him the confidence he needed. The demon had finally come in handy. He would take down whoever dared to threaten their peace.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

*Glasya-Labolas: according to the Lemegeton, is one of the Great Presidents of Hell, ruling thirty-six legions of spirits, and the twenty-fifth spirit sealed by King Solomon. This instigator of bloodshed and murders, if evoked appears in the guise of a black dog with griffin wings. If requested by the exorcist--Glasya can also teach all the arts in an instant, reveal past and future, turn somebody invisible and cause love between friends and foes.

...love between friends and foes *squints*

Oh, Hi there!

Great to see you again! How have you been doing?

This was a hell of a long chapter, so congratulation to all of you that survived through it!

Are you happy with Set's and Maria's reunion? What? Worried about the gun and the dog? *giggling* Oh, come on, how can you think that some accident might happen? I mean, don't you trust me?

Did you see Set's banner, by the way? Isn't he lovely?

*whistling Alouette*

Well, whatever, I love you anyway!

This chapter is dedicated to @challoner, my sweetheart--not literally mine though--whose book I love almost as much as mine! If you've got some time, go check out The Crimson Guard! It's a wonderful fantasy story with a strong female lead, the right amount of action and some romance and, well, most importantly--Axel. I love Axel.

As always my everlasting gratitude to my betas @Jagermeanshunter and @Sarah_MacLean, I'm so happy that Sarah will continue beta-reading despite dropping out of the club.

Thank you so much, love!

And last but not the least @Birdpaw which is the newest addition in the team and happily for me doesn't have much work to do anymore, but I love her comments! XD

Now, that I have successfully distracted you, my beautiful readers, see you in the next chapter! XD