The sun had already started to sink below the horizon by the time I found Shinra House. I'd spent most of the afternoon walking in circles around campus, looking for a building that didn't exist on any official university map.
"This can't be right," I muttered, checking the address on the card again.
I stood before a winding stone path that led away from campus, disappearing into a thick grove of pine trees. A small wooden sign with elegant calligraphy read "Shinra" in both English and what I assumed was Japanese.
Following the path, I emerged from the trees to find myself staring at what could only be described as a mansion. The structure stood two stories tall, built in a traditional Japanese style with dark wood paneling and a sweeping red-tiled roof that curved upward at the corners. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the sunset in bursts of gold and crimson. Stone lanterns lined the path, their soft blue glow growing more noticeable as twilight deepened.
This wasn't a university building. This was old money. This was power.
So this is where shamans live, huh? Not exactly a drafty tower with cauldrons.
I approached the entrance, noticing the massive wooden plaque hanging above the door with the same "Shinra" characters from the sign. As I reached for what appeared to be a doorbell, I realized the heavy wooden door was already slightly ajar.
Great. Nothing creepy about that at all.
"Hello?" I called out, pushing the door open wider. "Amelia?"
No answer.
I stepped inside, my footsteps echoing on polished hardwood floors. The foyer opened into a grand hall with high ceilings and minimalist furnishings that probably cost more than my entire life savings. Everything about the space screamed money, taste, and authority.
I don't belong here, my brain helpfully supplied. I should leave.
But something else—something newer and hungrier—disagreed.
"Amelia?" I called again, my voice bouncing off the walls.
The house remained silent except for a distant sound—water running somewhere deep within the building. With no other lead to follow, I moved toward it, passing through a stunning living room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the darkening campus below.
The sound grew louder as I navigated through the house. I slid open a heavy wooden door and was immediately hit by a wall of warm, humid air that carried the rich scent of cedar and something else—something floral and expensive.
An indoor pool?
Steam billowed through the room, limiting visibility to a few feet ahead. I took a cautious step forward, feeling smooth stone beneath my feet. The running water sound clarified into the gentle splash of a waterfall. As the steam parted, I realized I was standing in an elaborate Japanese bathhouse.
A large pool of steaming water dominated the center of the room, fed by an artificial waterfall that trickled down an arrangement of smooth black stones. Smaller pools dotted the periphery, each giving off a different colored steam. The ceiling was open to the night sky, stars beginning to glimmer above.
And in the main pool, her back to me, was Amelia.
Her pink hair was twisted up in a knot, exposing the elegant curve of her neck and bare shoulders. The water lapped just below her shoulder blades, and even from a distance, I could see drops of moisture trailing down her skin.
But what really hit me was the aura surrounding her. It wasn't visible exactly, but I could feel it pressing against my skin. It filled the room, making the air thick and heavy. Every instinct in my body went on high alert, screaming one clear message:
Danger.
Without turning, she spoke, her voice carrying easily across the water. "You're late."
"I..." My mouth went dry. "I couldn't find the place."
"Mmm." Then she stood.
Water cascaded down her body as she rose, her back still to me. The steam parted just enough to reveal the perfect curve of her spine, the water sliding off her skin like oil.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I should look away. I wanted to look away. I couldn't look away.
She turned her head just enough for me to catch her profile. "Meet me upstairs in five minutes."
She stepped out of the pool on the far side and disappeared behind a wooden screen, leaving me standing there, mouth slightly open, brain completely short-circuited.
Did that just happen? Did she just...?
Five minutes later, I climbed the stairs, following the soft glow of light coming from an open door at the end of the hallway.
The room turned out to be a library or study, with bookshelves lining the walls and a low table in the center surrounded by cushions. Amelia sat cross-legged at the table, wearing loose gray pants and an oversized sweater that slipped off one shoulder. Her damp hair hung in a loose braid over one shoulder, droplets of water occasionally falling onto the open book before her.
She looked up as I entered, her lotus eyes now in their dormant state—merely extraordinary instead of supernatural.
"Sit," she said, gesturing to the cushion across from her.
I complied, perching awkwardly on the edge of the cushion.
"You brought your necklace, I assume?" Her tone suggested this was less a question and more a test.
I nodded, pulling the silver pendant from my neck.
"Good." She held out her hand.
I hesitated. "I... I'd rather keep it with me."
"Isaiah. Hand it over."
"The last time I gave this to you, I turned into some kind of monster."
She sighed, leaning forward. "You are not a monster. You are what you've always been. The necklace doesn't change that—it just suppresses it."
"Exactly. That's why I want to keep it."
In a movement too fast for me to track, she was suddenly beside me, her fingers brushing my cheek as she plucked the necklace away. The brief contact sent electricity shooting down my spine.
"This," she said, dangling the pendant in front of my face, "is a crutch. A beautiful, necessary crutch your mother made to protect you until you were ready. But crutches are for the injured and the weak." Her eyes locked with mine. "And in this house, we are neither."
She pulled away, taking the necklace with her. "Your first lesson begins now."
"Wait, what do you mean 'in this house'? I thought this was just going to be a meeting, not—"
"You have a room prepared on the second floor. Your belongings have already been moved in."
"My belongings? From my dorm? How did you—"
"While you were at classes."
I gaped at her. "You broke into my dorm room?"
"Breaking implies force." She waved a dismissive hand. "The door was unlocked."
"And Freya? My cat?"
"The bakeneko? She's exploring the grounds." At my confused expression, she added, "Did you really think a normal cat would choose to live with an incubus?"
"A bake-what?"
"Not important. Your first lesson is in control."
She placed a small glass bowl on the table between us. It looked empty.
"Your demonic energy is leaking constantly," she explained. "Like a faucet with a bad washer. Most humans can't perceive it, but to creatures of the Veil, you might as well be setting off fireworks and screaming 'all-you-can-eat buffet.'"
"Great," I muttered.
"This bowl contains a ward—a spell that reacts to demonic energy. I want you to focus on containing your energy within your body, like holding your breath."
"How exactly am I supposed to do that when I can't even see or feel this energy?"
"You can feel it," she corrected. "You just don't recognize the sensation yet. Close your eyes."
I did so, feeling slightly ridiculous.
"Now, imagine your skin is a container. Everything you feel, everything you are, should remain inside that container. No leaks, no cracks."
I tried to visualize what she was describing, but all I felt was stupid.
"This isn't working," I said, opening my eyes.
"It's been thirty seconds."
"I don't even know what I'm looking for."
She considered me for a moment, then nodded as if coming to a decision. "Perhaps you need motivation."
In one fluid motion, she was on her feet and pulling her sweater over her head. Underneath, she wore a simple black tank top that clung to every curve.
"What are you doing?" I choked out.
"Providing incentive." She sat back down, much closer this time. "Incubi respond to desire. So desire something."
She reached out, her fingers tracing my jawline. The touch sent a jolt through me that was part electricity, part hunger.
"Feel that?" she whispered. "That surge inside you? That's your demonic energy responding to stimulus. Now contain it. Keep it inside."
I could feel it now—a warmth spreading through my veins, gathering just beneath my skin, pushing to get out. It wanted her. It wanted to feed.
"Focus, Isaiah," she commanded, her fingers moving to the pulse point on my neck. "Control it."
I closed my eyes again, concentrating on the sensation. Contain it. Hold it back. Keep it inside.
"Good," she murmured. "Look."
I opened my eyes. The glass bowl on the table now contained a swirling blue mist that pulsed and shifted.
"That's your energy that escaped your control," she explained. "Less than before, but still enough to attract attention."
"So I failed."
"You took your first step." She pulled away, leaving me feeling strangely cold. "The difference between a novice and a master isn't the absence of leaks—it's the awareness of them."
She stood, retrieving her sweater and slipping it back on. "You'll continue practicing tonight. And tomorrow. And every day after that."
"Every day? I have classes, a job—"
"Your tuition has been covered for the semester. Your job at the bookstore now believes you've transferred to another branch. Your roommate thinks you've moved in with your new girlfriend."
I stared at her, anger building. "You had no right to rearrange my life like that."
"No?" She arched an eyebrow. "Would you prefer I left you alone, untrained, leaking demonic energy for every hungry phantom in a hundred-mile radius to track? What do you think would happen to your precious normal life then?"
She moved to the door, pausing with her hand on the frame. "Your choices are simple, Isaiah. Learn to control what you are, or be controlled by it. There is no third option."
She looked back at me, her expression softening slightly. "Your room is the third door on the right. There's food in the kitchen if you're hungry. Training begins at dawn."
With that, she was gone, leaving me alone with a bowl of my own escaping energy and the distinct feeling that I'd just signed a contract I hadn't read.
What choice did I have? I thought, watching the blue mist swirl in the bowl. She's right. I can't go back to normal.
I stood, resigned to my new reality. As I left the room, I caught my reflection in a decorative mirror hanging in the hallway. My eyes glowed blue in the darkness, bright enough to cast shadows on my face.
Normal was never an option.