Gabe’s head turned up in quick motion to face me, his eyes a solid black. “Ars Notoria,” he whispered in a voice not his own.

The change of events frightened me. I stumbled back, away from my father and his friend. They were frozen in time like everything else in the room. Even the moonlit dust motes were hanging motionless in the air, but I could hear the screeches of the demons as they approached.

The dimensions of the room stretched, and the wood groaned and creaked. As I worked to keep my feet beneath me, I gripped the book tighter in my hands. The possibility of taking it back with me crossed my mind. It was the only reason I would be able to take it from Gabe.

I looked to the large window and closed my eyes. “It’s just a dream,” I said softly, confident the fall would wake me up. Opening my eyes with the Naissance de Demoniac in my hands wouldn’t be the most impossible thing that had ever happened to me.

In a full sprint, I bound for the window, bracing myself to leap through the glass and into the night, but before I could, a searing pain spread throughout my hands. I abruptly stopped and threw the book to the ground. Although the leather no longer touched my skin, the parts of my fingers and palms that had been in direct contact with the binding were charred and smoldering. My hands shook violently as the burns traveled up my arms, and I wailed at the intense heat spreading throughout my body; it was as if I were on fire. The sensation was unlike anything I had experienced before, but I couldn’t imagine anything more excruciating.

The sound emanating from my throat didn’t sound like my own as I protested the torture consuming me. Any moment the demons would come, and I would beg them for death.

A hole opened up beneath me and I fell. In that instant the pain was gone, and a soft, cool mattress was beneath me. Jerking to a sitting position, I held my arms in front of me. They were peach and unblemished.

Jared and Bex stood next to the bed with terror in their eyes.

“She was at least four feet above the bed!” Bex said, his eyes wide. “Has that happened before?”

“No,” Jared said, his expression exponentially more intense than the agonized look I had been accustomed to waking up to. He was afraid.

“Above the bed?” I asked, confused.

Bex sat on the bed and watched me for a moment, then took the sheet and wiped the sweat from my hairline. “You were seriously hovering! It was something straight out of the Exorcist!”

I hoped for one moment that Bex was being Bex, trying to make light of the situation. Gauging the storms in Jared’s eyes, it was true.