margin-right:0in"> “When I was a little girl I saw demons. Obviously I didn’t know they were demons at the time I just thought that’s how some people looked. Everyone shrugged it off as an active imagination, including my dad. My mother believed me. Called it a gift. The ability to see true foe from allies.”

I cleared my throat. Speaking about my mother always left me feeling exposed. As I spoke, the room grew uncomfortably hot. Some brilliant architect designed the windows not to open, otherwise I would have raised them all. Someone turned on the heat, or shut off the air condition. Or maybe both. My scalp prickled the way it did before sweat formed.

“Does that mean you can still see demons?” Benjamin asked.

“I haven’t been able to see the d...

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