Twenty-Seven
I put my hands on my hips. “Yes?” “First, were you successful?” it whispered. “Yes, I think so. I have a ring in my pocket.” Zen rubbed its hands together. “Wonderful. May I have it?” “Why is it so important to you?” “I already told you. It’s just a personal item that I value greatly. It’s so lonely in here and I don’t feel like me.” Somehow, its gravelly voice managed to sound like a snivel. I fished the ring from my pocket and handed it to Zen. The demon greedily grabbed it from my hand and slid the ring around its finger. Once shifting flesh solidified. I gasped. Zen was stunning. The demon stood before me with a clear smile painted on its face. Zen had taken a female form. A tall, bronze, Amazonian woman with luscious black hair that flowed to the top of her hips and chiseled l
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