Submerging Inferno (Men of Myth) by Witt Brandon

Author:Witt, Brandon [Witt, Brandon]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2013-08-17T16:00:00+00:00

I SAT in the driveway, staring at the house. Sonia’s car was still parked where it always was, the red paint sparkling like candy in the sun. The house was quaint and charming as always. If things had not been happening like they had been recently, I would have thought I had made it all up, that I would walk in and the house would be just as it always was, that Sonia would be inside talking on the phone or getting ready to go to work, that there weren’t demons, that I wasn’t a demon.

I knew better. If anything, seeing Sonia’s room the other night had made it clear that I not only knew I was a demon, that there were parts of my past I couldn’t even imagine, but that nothing in my life would be the same again, ever.

With heavy feet, I made my way to the front door. I started to reach in and get the keys out of my pocket, but my hand couldn’t find its way into the pocket. I glanced down. I’d forgotten. I only had on the sweatpants Finn must have put on me. My bare feet stuck out of the folds of fabric at the bottom. I glanced around to see if anyone had noticed me standing half-naked on my doorstep. I couldn’t see anyone. As I turned back, I positioned myself so I was hiding the doorknob. I had never tried anything like this before, but after everything else, I didn’t question it. I took it firmly in my hands, gave it a sharp twist, and felt it crack. I felt a twinge of disappointment as, with a gentle pull, the door handle slid out into my hand. I guess part of me had been hoping I had made it all up, that I couldn’t smash a doorknob as easily as crushing popcorn.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door, steadying myself against seeing our home broken and desecrated.

I stepped through and stared in bewilderment. For a split second, I thought I had broken into the wrong house. There was nothing out of place. The chairs were back in a standing position around the kitchen table, which was no longer split in half. There weren’t any papers or broken glass scattered over the floor. Even the hole in the wall was gone. I walked over to it, cautiously touching it with the tips of my fingers. It hadn’t been patched or freshly painted. It was just whole, like it had always been.

Glancing into the kitchen told me the same story. Not only was nothing out of place, but it had been cleaned up. The constant pile of dishes in the sink was gone, the counters free of all clutter. Perhaps if it hadn’t been so perfect, so neat, I could have truly believed it really had all been a dream, that Sonia was here, that I was just normal Brett once again. The absence of untidiness screamed as loudly of Sonia’s absence as had the torn-up house.

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