Page 32 of Princess of Hell

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I drove to the asylum with River. It was on top of a small hill right across from the cemetery.

“Do you like zombie movies?” asked River.

“Who doesn’t?”

“What would you do if the dead came back to life and ran around us?”

“See, that’s such a misconception. Zombies are a species, not the reanimated dead. They’re just challenged when it comes to the regeneration of brain cells. As a wolf shifter, I expected more tolerance from you toward other species. What would you say if people started saying that shifters are rabid wolves?”

River looked at his phone. “I never looked at things this way. Sorry.”

I laughed hard. All the tension of the day broke loose. “Got ya! There are no zombie species. All I know about are voodoo Zombies, but, damn, I loveThe Walking Dead.”

Rivers sighed with relief. “You got me.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

We got out of the car and walked a few minutes until we reached the backside of the fence. It was easy to jump over, but River insisted on giving me a hand. Once over the fence, we ran across the lawn. There were no security cams, no floodlights, nothing. We found the back entrance open as Nina had told River.

“I never believed your talent to pick up girls would payout,” I whispered.

River laughed. “I have my usefulness.”

“Where now?”

“I don’t know. I should feel his energy if they are strong. Give me a few.”

The smell was horrible. I opened my mind to pick up traces of my kind, but my instinct was right. It was impossible not to feel what I sensed--that there was a creature nearby that had no reason to be here. Its energy was horrible and dark, with an aura that only a few Demons possessed.

As I walked down the hall, I tried to step lightly. I was aware of my own evil, dark aura. Breathing in and out, I pulled my energy back inside me as much as possible. This was an asylum. Correction. Now they called it a mental health institution. People with cracks in their souls and minds see me as what I am, my real self and not the human version of it. They feel me. They can see through the veil between the worlds. They can feel what I am even without seeing me.

Cries sounded through the long hallways. The scent was so pungent it burned my nostrils. Clorox makes me want to gag. I had no time to feel sick and think about the poor souls who saw too much and who couldn’t live with themselves.

The Demon was here.

Was he an inmate?

Was he a nurse?

Did the fucker steal my necklace and, if so, why?

Whispers.

A voice reached out to me. It was different, stronger, filled with pain.

“Let me out. I see you. I know what you are. Just let me out!”

Deep green eyes looked through the small plexiglass window of his room. I saw the pain, anger, and more.

“Let me out or kill me. I can’t watch it torture the others. It brings me dreams of violence, and I’m afraid of myself.”

Humans don’t understand that this type of place is attractive to my kind, that many Demons work in mental institutions and enjoy torturing the inmates by pushing the right buttons and triggering them.

My phone vibrated inside my jacket pocket.

Jacks.

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