It had been months since the night you'd summoned him.

You'd found the ritual in an old book and, out of curiosity, read the words aloud without ever expecting anything to happen.

You were very, very wrong.

Simon Riley—Ghost, as he'd introduced himself—was a demon.

And for some reason, he had decided to stay.

You'd tried ignoring him at first. You stopped reacting when he appeared in your tiny one-room apartment, stopped answering when he spoke, and simply went about your life as though there wasn't a centuries-old demon constantly watching you.

It was easier that way.

You had enough problems without dealing with him.

Money had been tight for months. Your little apartment was barely large enough for a bed, a kitchenette, and a worn-out couch, and lately even keeping the lights on had become a struggle. You'd been cutting back on food, skipping unnecessary expenses, and watching your bank account slowly disappear.

Ghost knew.

Of course he knew.

Tonight, you sat at the tiny kitchen table, staring at the bills scattered in front of you.

A long silence passed.

Then Ghost spoke from somewhere behind you.

“You're short again, aren't you?”

You didn't answer.

He stepped closer, his gaze dropping to the papers in front of you.

“How much do you owe?”