THE NIGHT I MET THE DEVIL

THE NIGHT I MET THE DEVIL Chapter 1: The Wrong Door Twenty-two-year-old Isabella Rose had two rules for surviving her night shifts at La Luna. Never take the alley shortcut after midnight. And never look a VIP client in the eye. She broke both rules on a Tuesday night. At 11:20 p.m., rain poured over Seattle, turning the streets into blurry reflections of neon lights. La Luna stood between two buildings without a sign outside. The drinks cost more than Isabella's monthly rent, and the men who visited wore watches worth more than her college tuition. She was the coat-check girl, practically invisible to everyone who walked through the doors. Her cheap black heels hurt her feet, but the extra shifts helped pay her expenses. Tonight, Marissa had called in sick. "Room Seven," Mr. Vance ordered, handing Isabella a tray. "Take this upstairs. Don't speak unless you're spoken to, and don't embarrass me." She glanced at the glass of whiskey on the tray. "What's in it?" "Not your concern." Isabella swallowed her questions and headed upstairs. Room Seven stood at the end of a hallway she'd never seen before. Its door was slightly open, so she pushed it and stepped inside. The room was freezing despite the fire burning in the fireplace. A man sat alone in a leather armchair, dressed in a black shirt with his sleeves rolled up. Dark tattoos covered his forearms, and his black coat rested beside him. He looked like someone who owned everything he could see. Then he raised his head. Isabella's breath caught. His eyes were almost black, but when the fire flickered, she saw a strange ring of amber around his pupils. "You're not Marissa," he said. His voice was smooth, quiet, and strangely old. "No, sir. I'm Isabella. Marissa couldn't come tonight, so Mr. Vance asked me to—" "I know what Mr. Vance asked you to do." He studied her. "Come closer." Isabella remembered the second rule. She should have kept her eyes down, placed the tray on the table, and left. Instead, she walked toward him. Up close, he was devastatingly handsome, but something about him made her uncomfortable. His features were too perfect, his expression too calm. "Do you work here every night?" he asked. "Only Tuesdays and Fridays. I'm in college during the day." "What do you study?" "Literature." He smiled faintly. "Interesting, Isabella Rose." Her fingers tightened around the tray. "How do you know my last name?" "I know many things about you." The way he said her name sounded like a warning. He glanced at the whiskey. "I didn't order that." "Mr. Vance told me to bring it." "Mr. Vance enjoys offering things that don't belong to him." The man stood, and Isabella instinctively stepped back. "Do you know what tonight is?" he asked. She shook her head. "Tuesday?" He almost smiled. "Tonight is a Cross Night. The veil between worlds grows thin, and doors open that should remain closed." His gaze shifted toward the entrance. "Especially when someone opens the wrong one." A chill ran down Isabella's spine. She had used a service hallway because the main staircase was blocked. Marissa had warned her that the door at its end was always locked. But tonight, it had been open. "I didn't know," Isabella whispered. "That is usually how these things begin." He reached for the tray, his fingers brushing her wrist. Heat and cold shot through her arm simultaneously. The glass rattled, and the dark whiskey began to ripple as though something were moving beneath its surface. Isabella gasped. The man caught the tray before it fell. "Please let go." He studied her face. "You're cold." "I'm fine." "No. You feel different from everyone else in this building." "Different how?" "Like fresh snow." She didn't understand, and she didn't want to. "I need to go." "You can. But something followed you through that door." Her stomach tightened. "What are you talking about?" "Look at the mirror behind you." "Why?" "Because it's standing right behind you." Fear crawled up her spine. Slowly, Isabella turned toward the antique mirror above the bar. At first, she saw only her reflection. Then she noticed a tall, thin creature standing behind her. Its limbs bent at unnatural angles, and its fingers ended in black nails resembling broken glass. Its face was hidden in shadow. But its mouth was smiling. Isabella spun around. Nothing stood behind her. She looked back at the mirror. The creature had moved closer. One of its hands hovered inches from her neck. A scream rose in her throat. "Don't scream," the man warned, suddenly standing beside her. "If it realizes you can see it, it will stop pretending to be harmless." "What is it?" "A Collector. It collects lost things, forgotten names, missing memories, and souls that have wandered too far." He looked at her reflection. "Tonight, it believes you're one of them." "Am I going to die?" For a moment, he said nothing. Then he raised his hand. In the mirror, his fingers transformed into dark claws, and black smoke curled around his wrist. The creature recoiled. The man stepped between Isabella and the mirror. "She's not yours." His voice changed, becoming deeper and more frightening. The flames in the fireplace bent away from him. "She's mine." The Collector slammed its hands against the mirror. Cracks spread across the glass. Isabella covered her face. A moment later, silence fell. When she opened her eyes, the mirror was whole again. The creature had vanished, and the room had returned to normal. The whiskey glass lay empty on the table. Isabella found herself sitting on the carpet, trembling. The man crouched in front of her. "Can you stand?" She stared at him. "Who are you?" "You can call me Devil." "Are you the Devil?" He laughed softly. "No. But I work for him." Isabella stared at him in disbelief. "You're joking." "Do I look like I'm joking?" Unfortunately, he didn't. "I want to go home." "Then you should have thought about that before walking through the wrong door." "I didn't know it was the wrong door!" "And now you do." He held out his hand, but she ignored it. "What happens if I leave?" "The Collector will return." "Then call the police!" "And tell them what? That a creature lives inside a mirror?" She hated that he had a point. Downstairs, Mr. Vance shouted her name. Her phone vibrated. She pulled it from her apron and saw three missed calls. Another message appeared. MR. VANCE: GET DOWN HERE. NOW. "I have to go," she said. "You can leave this room," Devil replied. "But you cannot escape what followed you here." She looked at him. "Why did you save me?" His expression changed slightly. "Because something about you shouldn't exist." Before she could ask what he meant, he extended his hand again. "Come with me, Isabella Rose." She stared at his palm. Every sensible part of her mind told her to run. He was a stranger who claimed to work for the Devil, and whatever he was, he wasn't human. But the creature in the mirror had been real. She had seen it. And she knew it would return. "What happens if I take your hand?" "Your life changes." "And if I don't?" "Next time, I might not be there to save you." Isabella thought about her tiny apartment, her college assignments, and the ordinary life she'd struggled to maintain. She had never imagined that one wrong turn could leave her choosing between a monster and a man who worked for the Devil. Yet here she was. She reached for his hand. The moment their fingers touched, pain shot through her wrist. Isabella gasped as a black mark appeared beneath her skin. It formed a strange circle crossed by a crooked line. Devil's expression changed. For the first time, he looked genuinely frightened. "No," he whispered. "What is it?" Isabella demanded. "What's happening to me?" He didn't answer. Suddenly, every light went out. The fire died, leaving the room in darkness. Then came three slow knocks from behind the mirror. Knock. Knock. Knock. Devil stepped in front of her. "Stay behind me." "Is it the Collector?" "No." His fingers tightened around hers. "Something much worse." The mirror began to crack. Then a voice came from the darkness behind it. A voice Isabella recognized. Her own. "Devil," it whispered. "You shouldn't have brought her back." Isabella froze. She had never met this man before tonight. So why was another version of herself calling his name?