Page 2

Mama and Daddy went off Route 100 in an ice storm when I was eleven.

East Gloaming raised me after that, in shifts, like a church casserole rotation. Apparently, that means East Gloaming also gets a vote on feeding me to a demon.

“Try not to sass the demon, Dolly,” Mayor Prickle mutters from behind his clipboard, sweat beading on his temple. The bald crown of his head catches the light from the surrounding LEDs. His voice is still an octave higher from the little meet-cute I arranged with my knee to his balls ten minutes ago.

“Tell the demon not to sass me,” I retort with a sneer as the ropes around my wrists burn and tug. One thing the police chief has clearly practiced is tying people up, which makes me look at his wife with a little more respect. “Just so you all know, I released ten thousand bedbug babies into the mail sorting bin, so good luck with that.”

I might be tied up, but I’m not going out quiet.

Along with the ripped fishnets, garter belt, and crop top, I’ve added skull earrings, let my natural Dolly-worthy blonde waves fall down to the small of my back, and trimmed my bangs razor-sharp at midnight with kitchen scissors.

My lipstick is midnight black and perfectly lined, thank you very much. If I’m gonna be devoured, I’m gonna be iconic.

The Dolly would’ve understood. Dolly Parton understood everything, and she died last month, and I’ve been in mourning black ever since.

Okay. I was already in black. But now it means something.

I look around at the crowd, wondering what comes next when the air just... evaporates.

The trees go silent. Like the whole world is holding its breath.

The fog parts and retreats into the tree line.

My heart thuds against my sternum.

Once. Twice. Three, four, oh my God, just come on if you’re coming, stupid demon.

Then there he is.

He didn’t walk in, he just…appeared.

Seven feet of him, and that’s before you count the horns.

Eyes glowing red, like coals somebody keeps blowing on. His torso is brawny and humanoid, heavy with muscle and covered in dark brown hair that thickens across his chest and down his arms. His legs are straight like a human man, but as I follow them down, down, down…I land on two jet-black cloven hooves, stomping in the wet grass.

He snorts like a bull, two lines of vapor expelling from his nostrils.

But it’s his head that’s going to give me nightmares.

A goat skull, furred in that same dark brown, with a strong, muzzle-shaped jaw, sharp teeth, and those two curved horns on top that shimmer like polished bone. He walks slowly forward, like a war god, scanning the clearing, and I think I’m going to throw up.

I nudge my glasses up my nose with my shoulder, trying to get a better look, but they slide right back down.

It’s as though he brought his own light with him because he’s as clear as Dolly under stage lights.

And he is looking directly at me.

Chapter 2

My thighs clench, and I swallow around the lump of something round and dry lodged in my throat. I also tell myself the little spasms going on down in girl town are just fear flutters.

Lies.

“Dolly Rebecca Darling,” the horned hottie growls, his voice like the crackle of a furnace.

Nobody’s said my whole name since Mama.

She picked it herself—Dolly Rebecca, same as the real one.