Ghostland by Jory Strong

been cramped with hunger while she walked, but now the thought of food made it tense in rebellion.
    Aziel gathered his courage and scurried into the kitchen. He climbed up the leg of her pants and settled on her shoulder, his familiar presence bringing comfort.
    Aisling turned her head slightly and closed her eyes. She buried her face in his soft fur and concentrated on the faint beat of his heart and his warmth.
    The rumble of his stomach made her smile. She returned to the task of dealing with the items she’d purchased. A package of chicken breasts remained on the counter when she was finished.
    Aziel would have been happy to eat his food raw, but she needed to keep her hands and mind busy. She washed a cutting board then cast a nervous glance at the demon before pulling a knife from an oak block. His smile was a savage flash of white in a face worthy of an ancient god.
    Her heart fluttered. Heat painted her cheeks and made her look away. She remembered only too well how his eyes had traveled over her naked body, and his penis had grown hard in response. She wondered if the reason he hadn’t killed her was because he intended to use her first.
    Aziel’s tail twitched. His sharp claws dug into her flesh as if he sensed the direction of her thoughts and wanted to derail her fear before it rose to consume her.
    Aisling took a deep breath and cut a chicken breast into slices before searching for oil and a skillet. The smell of frying meat stirred her hunger. She added more chicken. Her gaze strayed to the demon and she willed herself to meet his eyes, to reclaim her courage when dealing with him.
    His name had been given to her by Aziel. She’d summoned him with a pure heart and commanded him to fight something evil. Those were not things she could undo and she didn’t want to.
    “Are you hungry?” she asked.
    Surprise flickered across Zurael’s face. It was followed by a tightening of his features and a stiffening of his spine, as if somehow she’d struck him with her question in a way she couldn’t with the knife. “No.”
    Aisling’s attention returned to the chicken. She removed the strips cut for Aziel and set them aside to cool.
    While the remaining piece cooked, she opened the cabinet and studied the cans she’d brought home. None of the vouchers covered fresh fruits or vegetables, and the small amount of money she’d been given by Father Ursu would barely have paid for salad. She’d have to plant a garden once she found a way to protect it from human and animal scavengers.
    Homesickness stabbed through Aisling’s chest. Her hand went to her work pants. She touched the bills folded inside the pocket. At the moment it seemed impossible that she’d ever have enough money to return to the farm. Traveling was a luxury for those who could afford the road tolls and the cost of protection as well as transportation.
    She pulled out a can of green beans and opened it, then cleaned a pan and heated the vegetables on the stove. When her meal was finished cooking, she loaded it onto a plate. She put Aziel’s dinner on a saucer before setting it on the floor.
    There was a table in the corner of the living room but Aisling remained in the kitchen, conscious of Zurael’s unwavering stare. Aziel ate greedily, then scampered past the demon to disappear into the shaman’s workroom.
    Aisling finished her meal slowly. It was difficult to eat with Zurael watching her, but the prospect of finishing her meal and walking past him was equally unnerving. She washed the dishes when she was done with them. Her stomach knotted when Aziel reappeared holding the carved image of a hawk in his mouth.
    It was time to pay for the name he’d given her.
    The ferret retreated to the shaman’s ceremony room. Aisling stiffened her spine and approached Zurael. She tried to concentrate on the narrow space between the edge of the counter and where he leaned on the door frame.
    It was impossible to keep her eyes from traveling over the