“You’ve opened a new chapter on your life,” Morgana said brightly. “That’s what’s going on. Why the long face? Contracts don’t just open up. It was your desire that sliced open the Barrier. You want this. More than just about anyone, I figure.”

“What … what does this mean?” Liz had to operate on the assumption she hadn’t gone insane, however more likely it was than the alternative—that demons were real, and Liz had bound her spirit to one. “I have magical powers, now?”

“Not yet, you don’t. But we can have your awakening sorted out before nightfall.” Morgana turned around, facing back into the kitchen. “You know, it’s crazy how much things have changed since I was last here.”

Liz’s eyes were drawn, naturally, to Morgana’s body. Her head having stopped its swimming in some part, Liz took in the details.

She had raided Liz’s closet. She wasn’t wearing pants—only underwear. It hugged her ass, ridden up, in a way that Liz knew was intentional; a succubus obviously wasn’t scared of showing herself off. Liz swallowed, because it definitely worked in drawing heat to her face. Morgana had some … nice assets. Obviously. Again … succubus.

Morgana turned back around, then put her fists on her hips. “Hey. Answer me. And stop staring.”

Liz shook her head, instantly mortified that she’d been caught. She opened her mouth to apologize—but swallowed the words at the smirk on Morgana’s lips.

Great. Her sudden roommate was a flirt. Liz totally knew how to handle that without making an idiot of herself.

“What?” Liz asked. “What’d you say?”

“I said,” Morgana repeated firmly, eyebrows raised, and leaning forward so her shirt fell down, exposing herself to Liz. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Which was fair; Liz didn’t have any that fit her. Liz tried her best to keep eye contact, to not stare down Morgana’s shirt at her now-exposed nipples. “That so much has changed. How the hell does this thing work? It’s cold! And there’s no magic coming from it.”

Morgana had waved a hand at the fridge. Liz blinked.

“How is it … cold?”

“Yeah.”

“Well. Electricity.” Which brought up a good point—Liz didn’t know, exactly, how a fridge worked. It vented heat out, right?

“Electricity,” Morgana said, rolling it around in her mouth. “Huh. That’s a funny new word. You mortals and your languages.” She turned to the stove, apparently not caring about the specifics. “And that thing. It gets hot when I turn the dials. It’s, uh, still hot. I couldn’t remember what I did.”

Liz stood. Sure enough, the stove was on—she turned things back to their appropriate places.

“And the lights,” Morgana said. “Electricity, too?”

“Uh. Yeah.” She knew, at least, how lights worked. Assuming the ones in her ceiling were incandescent. LEDs, she wasn’t sure about. So maybe she didn’t. “You said you haven’t been here in a long time? How long?” She’d said in the dream ‘a few centuries’, right?

“Hm,” Morgana said. “Couldn’t tell you, exactly. Swords and armor were a lot more popular, I’ll tell you that. Less crowded. Smaller buildings.” She frowned. “And things were a lot filthier.” She looked around Liz’s apartment, admiring it.

Which said a lot, because Liz didn’t live in a pristine environment. The opposite. Not only was her apartment crappy, she didn’t take good care of it. Not like she had guests over, ever. Her cheeks colored as she looked around at the scattered wrappers, the clothes thrown around, the general lack of organization.

Complications started popping into Liz’s head, and not even of the fantastical sort, of which there were a thousand, too. Rather, mundane ones: was Morgana her roommate now? This apartment was tiny; that would be a problem. How would Liz explain the increased food bill to her parents? Presumably, Morgana didn’t know how to handle herself in modern society. Could she be trusted to leave? And so on.

“Okay,” Liz said. “We need to talk.” Her incredulity hadn’t left her, but at her base nature, Liz was a practical creature. She hadn’t chosen a degree in math because she was something other than logical-thinking. It might be her one redeeming feature. “You need to catch me up, and we need to make a plan.” She wasn’t assertive, as a whole, but in this situation, she gave the command with some modicum of sternness. “Couch. Let’s figure this out.”

“But I’m hungry.”

Liz paused. That was fair. “Okay. I’ll make us cereal. But still, couch.”

Morgana listened, which Liz was grateful for. Liz had to literally tear her eyes away from the way her hips swayed—and the panties so hilariously ridden up her ass. Did she have to flaunt herself so obviously? Maybe she didn’t know she was doing it; it might just be in her nature.

“Cereal?” Morgana asked, plopping down. “What’s that?”

Yeah. This was going to be a long talk.

“Food.” Liz went about setting two bowls out, two spoons, and grabbing some milk and cereal. If she tried to answer each of Morgana’s questions about life in depth, they’d be here forever. And Liz was rather more interested in the magical than the mundane, right now. The whole, ‘I’ve bound myself to a demon’ stuff. “Awakening. What’s that mean?”

“You’re attuned to the Ether, but your eyes haven’t been opened. There’s a lot of ways to get that done, but we’ll be going with the traditional. A ritual. Painless, if requiring some set-up and know-how. Fortunately … know-how’s not something I lack.”

Liz was impressed at how much innuendo she packed into the statement. “And then I’ll … be able to cast spells?” It was hard to get the question out. Before, in the dream, she’d an excuse to be comfortable with the absurdity of what she was saying and asking. Now, not so much.

Spells? Magic wasn’t real. Duh.

Demons weren’t real, either. And one was sitting on Liz’s couch, waiting for a bowl of cereal. So her point was a bit moot.

Liz finished preparing the two bowls. She picked them up and carried them over to the ratty wooden coffee table that sat in front of the couch.

Morgana watched her approach with an amused quirk of her lips—it seemed to be a permanent feature of hers, when dealing with Liz. Liz didn’t blame her. Her, a demon-contractor? About to be extracting sexual energy from unsuspecting targets? Liz was blushing catching glimpses of Morgana’s cleavage, and her long, smooth, exposed legs. She didn’t want to imagine what a mess she’d be, trying to do … you know. That stuff.

“Okay,” Liz said, settling into the couch. “A ritual. What do we need?”