Elvira turned to look at me again, her eyes narrowing slightly, like she'd just spotted something fascinating — or tasty.
"So… what's with your hair? That raspberry color — is that natural or are you just feeling fancy?"
"Human experimentation," I replied with a grin. "In my world, it's totally normal."
She frowned, like I'd said it was normal to leave the house naked and wrapped in just a blanket.
"Weird. Here, only succubi have that color."
"Who?"
That word again. The dean had said it, too.
Elvira softened her voice.
"Demon women. They recharge their powers through… let's call it unconventional means."
"I'm not a demoness! I don't have horns or hooves or tails or—"
She burst out laughing and clapped me on the back.
"Relax. In human form, they don't either. Just saying."
We stopped in front of a massive wooden door with a dark, splintered plaque that read "Castellan." The surface was covered in deep scratches — either from time, or from previous tenants with anger issues and claws.
Elvira knocked, and after a long minute filled with theatrical creaking, the door groaned open to reveal the castellan — a hunched little creature who looked like a disgruntled goblin that had been rudely awakened from a nap. His glare could curdle milk.
"This is Malinka," Elvira said, nodding in my direction. "She's new. Needs keys and bedding."
The goblin squinted at me like I'd tracked mud onto his favorite rug.
"New ones. Always coming and coming out of somewhere…" he grumbled, pulling out a battered logbook and flipping through the pages with the kind of enthusiasm one reserves for tax paperwork.
His beady eyes locked onto me again. "You're not on the list. No name, no key."
A lump of pure despair started forming in my throat.
After everything that had happened today — the Grey bath incident, Lavinia's mouse circus, emotional damage — I was way past the point of arguing with anyone. My clothes clung to me like depression, and I was starting to feel like a forgotten lunchbox in someone's bag. The only thing keeping me upright was the distant dream of dry socks and a bed.