Demon Heart (The Darkworld Series Book 3) Read Free Page A

bedroom door, I turned back to say good night to Alex.
    “You can’t fool me,” she said, wagging her finger. “I know you’re up to something.”
    “You can have the blueprints for my evil plan tomorrow,” I said. “Night.”
    In my room, I sighed, shrugging out of my thick coat. Whenever I speculated on the possibility of any of my friends learning about my other life, Alex came top of the list. She didn’t mean to be nosy, but it downright exasperated me sometimes.
    I turned up the heating, since I still felt the chill from outside nipping at my skin. I genuinely didn’t know why I could suddenly feel the temperature change―up until recently, I’d been constantly cold but unable to really
feel
it, something I’d attributed to being part demon, as demons thrived in the cold atmosphere of the Darkworld. But on the night I’d nearly died, I’d realised that I could feel warmth again like normal people. It took some adjusting to, and now I could no longer get away with walking outside in winter without a coat. But it also meant that when Leo touched me, I felt his body heat burning like a flame.
    Of course, he could
literally
set himself on fire, a skill most magic-users had no difficulties with. Fire was demonkind’s one weakness, as it had the power to destroy their demon heart, a crystal anchoring them to this world when they were summoned. Because of this, I was doubly susceptible to burning, as I’d found out when Jude had attempted to destroy my own demon heart, an amethyst crystal that held my family’s magic, and very nearly killed me.
    My own magic was mostly centred on lowering the temperature and even freezing things, as well as killing demons using ice that burned them like fire. I didn’t
like
using it, but I’d been forced to, twice. The others saw it as an eccentricity and had no idea that it was a sign that I wasn’t completely human. Except for Berenice, who’d seen my eyes flash purple when we were battling the Skele-Ghouls and hadn’t bought my excuses. I just hoped she wouldn’t use it to blackmail me.
    My phone buzzed again. I picked it up, thinking it was Leo, but the number came up as unknown.
    The devil knows your secret.
    I stared.
Who has my number this time?
I’d had cryptic messages before, but I couldn’t tell if it might be the same person.
    It had been so long since the others that I’d all but forgotten about them. But just before I’d first encountered the doppelganger, someone had messaged me with the claim that A shadow has your face .
    Was
it the same person? Who else could possibly know?
Is it a warning? Or a threat?
    “It’s not a very good one. Nice try,” I told my phone.
    It buzzed back at me, and I nearly dropped it. Another message had crossed wires with the first. Tell no one else what you are.
    I felt half-tempted to dial the number, but something stayed my hand.
Tell no one.
One person always said that.
    The one person I wanted to avoid.
    Great.



ire sprang up all around me, orange flames licking at my skin. I flinched away from the burning, writhing wall, which cut off any chance of escape.
    I stood in a large room, a bedroom. Through the haze of smoke I could see a four-poster bed, its feathery curtains ablaze. Flickering tendrils of fire ate away at the posh-looking furniture, smoke gushing out in clouds. On the wall opposite hung a magnificent, gilt-framed painting of a girl with long, curly black hair. As I watched, the paint peeled away from the background as the ever-spreading blaze devoured it. Underneath the roar I heard a whimper and realized I wasn’t alone.
    A girl crouched in the corner of the room, arms wrapped around her knees, apparently oblivious to the fire raging around her. I tried to walk over to her, but a wall of flames barred my way, flaring out of the lush carpet.
    “Stay… out…”
    The girl raised her head, but she didn’t seem to see me standing there. She was older than I’d thought; her hunched position had made