I’d always thought battling demons involved physical fights, but Samson was the second demon I’d faced who’d unleashed emotional wreckage and mind game fuckery on a brutal scale. I almost blinded myself with my mascara wand, lost in the grip of my savage urge to destroy him for loosing that encore on me.

So when Drio and not Rohan called me with the details of the location for the meeting, I needed more than a few steady breaths to calm down. Rohan didn’t get to start avoiding me now. Not before I’d had my say and officially ended our penile paradigm.

I armored up in all-black.

The one good thing in my morning was a message waiting at reception for me from Dr. Gelman saying her panel had gone well. Her check-in calmed me down a bit.

Using Rasha connections, Rohan and Drio arranged for us to have use of a cool underground bar. I’d texted Samson the time and address, receiving confirmation that he’d be there.

I paced at the top of the stairs leading down to the bar for a good ten minutes before I felt psyched enough to go meet up with my team, though I was surprised to descend the stone stairs and find other patrons inside. The bartender looked up from drying a glass, studying me with more curiosity than my presence warranted. Then he nodded, raising his hand to show his Rasha ring. Ah. He’d looked a bit too ripped to spend his time slinging booze. Each of the half dozen or so other men here were hunters as well, providing background so Samson didn’t get suspicious by walking into a deserted bar.

I took a seat at one of the high tables, taking the chair that put my back to the wall. The bartender brought me over a can of dark beer. “I shouldn’t.”

“Root beer,” he said.

Neither Drio nor Rohan showed themselves. I wished that I had some understanding of what would happen but I guess they couldn’t risk Samson walking in and seeing them.

Samson kept me waiting for twenty minutes. Long enough to make me sweat that he wasn’t going to show. He skipped hello to go straight for the jugular. “Guess you’ve been replaced. I hear she’s smart, too.” A mean sort of smile slid across his face.

I ran the edge of my thumb over the can’s tab. “Does that change things?”

Samson shrugged, watching me with a feigned casualness. “You tell me.”

“If you were only interested in me for Rohan, then you should have skipped the middle man and fucked him yourself. You’d have enjoyed it. Evelyn sure did.”

White spots of rage appeared on his cheeks. “You cunt,” he hissed.

A low chanting filled the room. A call to Adramelech.

Samson hopped off his chair, but was blocked by Rohan. The other Rasha, including the bartender, had slipped out. Samson tried to knock Rohan aside, but Rohan wrenched Samson’s arm up his back, planting him facedown against the table.

“Going somewhere?” Rohan asked.

Samson’s eyes darted to the door, being locked shut by Drio.

The source of the chanting, Drio held a small blade, using it to trace a complicated pattern in the air.

“Hey man, I’m not into Satan shit.” Samson laughed as he struggled against Rohan’s grasp.

Rohan’s eyes met mine, twins of the doubt I felt. Why wasn’t Samson’s form changing? I was positive that after our encounter in his trailer that I’d correctly pegged him as a demon. Had we gotten his true name wrong? If so, we were screwed. We’d never get another chance to get close enough to do this ritual.

“You know, if you didn’t like the terms of the recording contract, you could have just said.” Samson was way too blasé.

Rohan slammed the blade of his middle finger through Samson’s palm. Samson howled. His face flickered, revealing black charred skin.

I exhaled.

Rohan held the demon down as he struggled.

Closer and closer Drio came, chanting and tracing the pattern. The demon’s skin rippled and bubbled. Tendons strained in his neck. An eyeball bulged out. His teeth ground together trying to fight his transformation.

Rohan yanked his blade from Samson’s palm. The demon snapped upright, clearly not of his own volition.

“Hear me, Adramelech,” Drio said. “Before me now, I use your name, demand your form.” Drio slit his own palm with the ritual blade. Blood dripped onto the floor.

Samson’s glamour fell away, leaving a humanoid creature covered in ruined, burned flesh. Not unexpected for a sun-demon. But he also had a gorgeous peacock’s tail, rising six feet high, and swaying behind him in a vivid swirl of iridescent greens, blues, and golds.

“You think you can take me, Rasha?” the demon sneered. He turned a look of unadulterated loathing on me. “Puppet.”

He didn’t know I was Rasha. That was a refreshing first. Before I could enlighten him, there was a resounding crash of breaking glass. I looked over at the window, confused. Logan, Samson’s flunky, had just burst inside. Glass dotted his skin, blood streaming from a dozen cuts.

Drio grabbed the demon’s tail, lifting the blade to plunge into the base of his spine.

Logan flicked his fingers and it felt like all the oxygen was sucked out of the room. Drio’s knife clattered to the floor.

I doubled over, gasping, my lungs burning. My head was being squeezed in an invisible vise. Drio coughed, swearing, which snapped my attention up.

Samson and Logan were gone.

I looked over at Drio, who held a handful of peacock feathers, and blinked. There was Drio, but I stood next to him. I shook my head. That wasn’t right. Neither was the stunned expression on my face as I stared back at me.

I pointed at myself. This wasn’t my hand. This was too big and too male to be my hand.

Eyes wide, I looked down. “Oh shit,” I said in Rohan’s voice.

“Shit,” he echoed in mine.

The next hour was surreal. While Drio and Rohan, as me, commanded the other Rasha on hunting down Samson and Logan, I went into the washroom to stare at my new face. Planting myself in front of the dingy mirror, I examined every feature of Rohan’s with more thoroughness than I ever had, but I couldn’t reconcile my brain with reality. Again and again, I touched a fingertip to his nose, his tongue, his lashes, but no matter how much I willed the face to change back into my own, it didn’t.

I trailed his fingers over the silver taps. Solid. Cool. Back up along his arm to the reflection staring out at me, sweat breaking out over his skin at the disorientation of being there but not.

I shifted, aware of a pressing on my bladder. Were these insides still mine? Unbuckling his jeans, I gripped his dick. So freaking weird, feeling his hand and his cock at the same time. I pointed it at the toilet but that felt wrong too, so I ended up sitting down, giving his dick a firm yank to shake it off. I tucked it back in his jeans and washed his hands.

Bad enough walking back into the bar that I had to find my balance, learn how this body moved, I kept having to adjust his balls because the jeans pinched. How did men get anything done?

“Are you wearing butt floss?” Rohan’s words said in my voice, stopped me in my tracks, every Rasha in the bar swinging his head my way. The bartender even halted the phone conversation in rapid Czech he was having.

So. Dead. So not answering him.

I marched over and swiped Rohan’s bottle of water away. “You don’t eat or drink anything until we’ve switched back.” I was not having Rohan wipe my ass.

He glowered at me. Wow, I gave really good glower. I tried to glower back but hadn’t perfected the movement with these facial muscles so I’m not sure what the overall effect was.

“Ro,” the bartender said, hanging up, “get a move on. The bar needs to open for real and we need to get the window replaced.”

Rohan stalked over to my jacket, one hand held across my chest.

“This is no time for your cheap thrills,” I informed him.

“They bounce. You need a better bra.”

“They bounce because they’re real. That’s what women’s boobs do.” I adjusted his stupid balls again shaking out his leg in my attempt to make everything lay properly.

“You’re going to chafe them,” Rohan said. “Men’s genitals are very sensitive. Unlike some who require a battering ram.”

Baring his teeth at him, I tugged on his cock. He winced, but I did too at the pain that spiked through me. Spectacular backfire.

A sharp whistle cut through our hostility. Drio muscled between us like a ref at a boxing match. “You two need to go back to the hotel and stay there.”

Rohan tried to argue the point, but I agreed with Drio. I didn’t want any unnecessary further harm to my meatsack and I didn’t trust Rohan to take proper care of it. Rohan’s-my-eyes spat electricity. A spark landed on the sweater I’d worn this morning.

I slapped at it before it could do any actual damage but in my anxiety, I triggered one of his finger blades. It slit the fabric, drawing a fine line of blood along my actual body’s skin.

Rohan hissed in pain and jerked his arm away. My arm. The arm of the body he was in. Both of us limited to feeling sensations in the form that we were each trapped in.

We glared daggers at each other.

“You’re both too much of a disaster to be out and about. I’ll take charge of finding the demons so we can switch you back.” Drio shoved us toward the door.

The bartender, Mirek, drove us back to the hotel. I took the front seat, forcing Rohan to crawl into the back. Petty pleasure since it was a two-door Citroen.

I followed Rohan back to his suite. “You got any food?”

“If you eat, I eat.” Jeez, he made me sound pissy.

“Forget it.” I sat down on the couch, pulling his long legs in to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, his chin propped on top.

Rohan leaned back against his chair with my legs extended carelessly, and my arms crossed over my chest. Dude managed to take up a lot of room with my slender self.

I ran his hands over his arms, feeling his biceps tense and the light sprinkling of hair. I’d felt them with my hand many times, but it was weird and fascinating to feel them with his.

Rohan stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“To your room.” He shook my head. “Watching myself is wrong. No masturbating,” he ordered, one hand on the doorknob.

“Huh?”

He pointed at his crotch. “I know you, Nava. You’ll be all over that the second this door closes.” It hadn’t occurred to me to do that, but now I was curious. “I’m serious,” he snarled in my voice. “I’ll know.” He smiled innocently. “Unlike you.”

“Fine,” I spat.

He slammed the door behind him.

Great. Given Rohan’s mood, who knew what condition I’d get myself back in? He’d probably cut off all my hair or something just to spite me. I hadn’t had a chance to have our talk, either. I couldn’t call anyone, couldn’t do anything. I paced the room like a caged animal, catching sight of him in the oval mirror mounted on one wall.

I was invisible. Sure, I existed but where was the proof? Where had been the proof of me on this entire trip? I’d been playing a role and now it had swallowed me. Nava was gone. I glanced in the mirror. Literally. His chest tightened. I waved his arms over his head, but that did nothing against my escalating sense of panic. Being outside my body was seriously screwing me up.

There was a knock at the door. I ran to open it, praying it was Drio with good news.

It was Lily.

“Are you all right? You look pale,” she said.

I stared at her unable to find my voice. Which wasn’t mine at all.

“Ro?”

I cleared Rohan’s throat, wanting to tell her this wasn’t a good time, come back later but Lily took the sound for permission to enter. I shut the door, wishing I could bash Rohan’s brains against the wood instead of enduring this social call.

Lily sat down. She picked at a cuticle, her eyes staring off to the side, her words rushed. “I know that our first attempt at dating didn’t work. But being with you again? It’s so easy.”

I gripped the top of the sofa. Lily was here to have the “let’s get back together” talk. I didn’t hear much of what she said after that. Her words blurred over me like Charlie Brown wah wah wahs.

At some point I found that I’d sat down. That I was nodding along.

“When we kissed?” Her eyes found mine, bright with hope. “That spark was there. It’s always been there with us.”

“It was pretty brief,” I said. Lily was sweet, but how naive was she if a five-second kiss was proof of romance?

She smoothed out her skirt. “Don’t be coy. You know I mean the other one.”

I squinted at her, forcing a smile. Other kiss. Right. I crossed Rohan’s arms. “Sure.” Uncrossed them. Crossed his legs. Stretched them out. Stood up and beelined for the suite’s bar.

I poured a glass of water.

“You can’t be surprised by this.”

No, surprised wasn’t the word. Furious, that was more appropriate. At the universe for putting me in this position. At Rohan for well, so much.

I almost dropped the glass because the sight of those hands that weren’t my own unnerved me. I gripped the counter, head bowed, needing some sense of myself instead of this Shakespearean mistaken identity that was anything but comedic.

“Say something,” she said.

I had no claim on Rohan. Sleeping with him for a few weeks didn’t give me any rights, even if I’d wanted them. I was the last person to stand in the way of his happiness. Of him rekindling his first love for their happily-ever-after.

“It’s not you. Long day.” I sat down again and smiled at her. “Talk to me.”

As she poured out her heart, all I kept thinking was how easy it would be for me to sabotage this. Destroy any hopes she had and drive her away. Do it right and she’d never even bring it up with Rohan. She’d be too embarrassed. I wouldn’t get caught.

I couldn’t do it.

I covered her hand with Rohan’s. “I want to talk about this, Lils. Because it’s important, but I have somewhere I have to be.”

She slipped free. “I get it.”

Wishing I was undergoing hot pokers up my ass rather than this, I gently lifted her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes. Rohan’s eyes. Damn it! “No. You don’t. Promise me you’ll find me tomorrow.” I hoped that would give Rohan and me enough time to switch back so he could be the one to talk to her.

I squeezed her hand. “Please.”

Her smile was bright enough to light up the room. “I promise.” Talk about a mitzvah with no expectation of reciprocity. She left soon after.

I lay on the sofa, staring blankly out the window at the darkening sky. Willing my mind to remain empty. At long last there was another rap on the door.

“Open up.” It was Drio.

“You got them?” I spoke in little more than a whisper.

“Logan. Not Samson. Ro is waiting for us.”

I nodded, letting myself be led. As long as I kept staring out into the middle distance, I’d be fine. I rested against the car window, feeling the cold glass under Rohan’s cheek and keeping my stare into the darkness level. I had to hold on to that emptiness. Let the enormity of outside fill me up, leaving no room for anything else. Force my tangled emotions into the tiniest atom instead of the wall of barbed wire they wanted to be.

Drio left the city, driving for a while until he turned onto a narrow dirt road. At the long, winding end stood a decrepit stone farmhouse. The car bumped over the ground as he drove around back, the headlights illuminating Rohan-as-me, arms crossed, standing at the back door which hung half off its hinges.

“Took you long enough,” Rohan said in my voice as we got out.

I rubbed his eyes with his fists. If I had to live like this for much longer, I was going to go insane. “He’s in the house?” I asked.

“Under it. Imprisoned,” Rohan said. “Ready?” he asked out to the darkness.

“Ready,” came Mirek’s low voice. I peered into the gloom and made out a couple of figures. I assumed there were other Rasha out there as well, guarding the place in case Samson showed up.

Drio went in first, slipping through the door. Rohan insisted I go next, leaving him to bring up the rear. I needed a minute to adjust to the gloom, but there were enough cracks in the walls to provide a dim light. I wrinkled Rohan’s nose against the must and dust tickling it. The house smelled old and unused. It had also been gutted. Empty spaces, wires with no appliances, and partial cupboards made up the kitchen.

Drio opened a door at one end of the room, flipping on a tiny flashlight. “Stick close.”

We went down the stairs, feeling our way. At least the basement floor was hard, packed dirt with nothing to trip over.

Drio shifted sideways to fit through a skinny hole in the wall. Going through after him in Rohan’s body was a tight squeeze. I wrenched on his shoulders to get them through. “Careful,” Rohan said.

I grit his teeth and pulled free. For the second time on this trip, I found myself in a stone tunnel. No monsters showed themselves as we hugged right wall. It wasn’t a hard slog, just a boring one. I sang “I Will Survive” on repeat loudly in my head so I couldn’t dwell on anything. Eventually, a soft glow spilled from up ahead.

We followed it into a large opening, the walls and floors made up of rough salt crystals, the smell sharp enough to clear my sinuses. The ceiling was something else entirely. All around me lights twinkled in soft clusters. An incredible phosphorescence.

“Cool, huh?” Logan sat in a busted lawn chair, a silhouette, his head tipped up.

Drio ran the flashlight over him. Logan wasn’t even in demon form, though he didn’t look too great. His face was puffy and bruised. His nose had been broken and dried blood crusted his nostrils. A half dozen beer bottles littered the ground around him.

Logan pulled a fresh brew out of a torn box. “Want one?” He cracked it open without waiting for our answer, chugging it back and then tossing it on the ground with a soft clunk, accompanied by a belch. “Cheap shit. Couldn’t pony up for the good stuff, bro?” he asked Drio. Then he eyed me up and down. Me. Not my body. “Bet you like the good stuff, Lolita,” he leered. “Heard you were pretty willing to play musical cock for a sweeter gig.”

I had the blades of Rohan’s left hand extended in an instant, but Drio punched Logan on the side of his head before I could get close.

The demon flickered.

“Why’d you have to wreck it?” He asked in a whiny voice. Not Logan’s. T-Roy’s. He sat there in the same seat, the same position that Logan had been in a second before, his leg jittering.

“Shut it,” Logan snarled, appearing once more as T-Roy disappeared.

What. The. Unholy. Fuck.

“A gemini.” Rohan didn’t sound scared. Just mildly irritated.

“Astrological signs are demon types?” I really didn’t want to meet a cancer.

Logan placed his foot over a bottle. I tensed but all he did was roll it back and forth under his dirty sneaker. “Having a twin sucks balls.” Had to disagree with you there, bro.

“Switch them back, Logan.” Drio spoke in his normal voice.

Logan squinted over at Drio. “What’s up with the weird accent?” He got himself a fresh drink, waving it drunkenly at Drio. “I’m already dying. Not a lot of incentive to do as I’m told.”

I snuck closer to Rohan, picking my way over jagged salt clusters. “Dying?”

“His duality has collapsed.”

“All his energy was going into maintaining his two forms,” Drio explained to me. That explained the boys’ lack of bad behavior.

“Switching you two accelerated the process,” Logan said. “No choice though. Tied to the fucker’s well-being. Soon as I felt Samson take his true form, I had to rush to his rescue.” He drowned his bitterness with another drink.

Rohan walked over to Logan, kicking his legs off the beer bottle. “King’s dumped you, hasn’t he?”

“Asshole. Said he could save me.”

“Maybe he can.” That was T-Roy, back for a desperate second.

A beer bottle whizzed past my head, shattering on a fat bunch of crystals behind me. “It’s your fault,” Logan raged. “Weak. Pathetic.” He punched himself in the head. This took twin dysfunction to a whole new level.

Drio rolled his eyes. “Ro.” Nobody moved. “Rohan body,” he said pointedly. “Encourage Logan to behave.”

Rohan poked me in the back to get me moving. I crossed over to Drio who tapped a spot on the back of his own neck.

I snicked out a blade, pressing the tip into the same spot on Logan. “Where’s Samson?”

“Like I’d tell you.”

“Your loyalty is touching.” I dug the blade in hard enough to draw blood. “Misplaced but touching.”

Logan made a sound that almost sounded like a laugh. “Fuck loyalty. I don’t want that psycho coming after me in whatever afterlife I’m doomed to.” He pressed his neck back against the blade. The tip slid in.

I smacked him on top of his head. “What is wrong with you? Why aren’t you fighting?”

Logan took another sip.

“Suicidal,” Drio said. “Chemical side effect of his collapse. Change them,” he ordered again.

Logan ignored him and kept drinking.

Rohan fired a blast of electricity into Logan’s crotch. The demon fell out of the chair, doubled over, howling in pain. We waited for his cries to die down.

“A girl Rasha? Fucking hell, bitch. You’re crazy.” In his pain, he seemed to have forgotten he was really speaking to Rohan.

Rohan rolled him over with my foot, a ball of electricity crackling off of my fingertips. “You have no idea.” Damn, I was impressive. Also, was Rohan’s agreement some not-so-veiled commentary on the real me?

Logan muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?” Rohan asked sweetly in my voice.

“Promise me you’ll make Samson hurt and I’ll change you.”

Rohan agreed to Logan’s request.

A sucking pull stretched out the skin I was currently in. Any second now Rohan’s eyeballs were going to pop like bubble wrap, but as suddenly as the pulling sensation came on, it stopped.

I held out a hand. Mine. It trembled and I pressed it down against my leg.

I met Rohan’s eyes, needing the assurance of looking into steely gold, not sparkling blue-gray. He looked back at me with, not intimacy exactly. More a melding. A time-stopping moment with no sense of where he started and I stopped. We shared one heart, breathed one breath.

It was staggeringly disorienting, but not in the same way I’d felt all day.

Drio finished Logan off. It was pretty sweet how the gemini sputtered in alternating flashes between himself and T-Roy before he disappeared into oblivion.

We trudged back up to the surface in silence. Drio and Rohan had a brief conversation with Mirek then we left. I willingly sat in the back seat for the ride back.

“Can you deal?” Rohan asked Drio as we got out of the car in front of the hotel.

He nodded. “No problem.”

“Anything pressing, you call.”

I wandered off, totally spent and beyond ready for this night to end. Rohan followed me into the elevator. When I went to hit three, he blocked me, hitting five instead. The barely leashed savagery on his face dared me to protest.

I almost did. Because of Lily. But she was going to get Rohan for the rest of their lives. I was weak enough to want him for one more night. I nodded.

Alea iacta est.