Page 18 of Spit

“Sure.” I could scent his humanity like thick cologne. “Do you do a lot of work for demons?”

“Pays well.” He grunted. “You’re handling all this well.” He waved his hand vaguely.

I considered his words. “Demons.” I shrugged in a kind of ‘what can you do?’ way. The driver seemed to agree.

“I’m Stan.” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the key. He unlocked the cage door and moved away.

“Lexi.” I held out my hand for him to shake, and the moment our skin touched, I was proved correct—Stan was human. “Is Stan short for Stanley?”

Stan’s ears turned pink. “Uh, Athelstan. My ma loves Vikings.”

“Huh.” My lip twitched. “Never heard that name before.”

“First ever king of England.” Stan slanted a grin my way.

“You don’t say.” I took his hand and allowed him to help me out of the cab. “What now?”

“We wait for Mr. Legion,” Stan said, and I had a feeling that was the last time I’d get a friendly conversation from Athelstan.

Mr. Bub had taken my gun and knife, so I had no weapons. My phone was dead.

I wanted to believe that Mr. Bub wouldn’t throw me into a situation that could kill me, but he had also given me the curse that had literally ruined my life.

I could suck a demon dry of its magic in moments, but my shadow seemed strangely subdued, as if it was biding its time.

The walls of the Red City stretched high enough to turn the night into a deeper kind of darkness, which even the moonlight couldn’t reach as we stood in the shadow of the massive walls. I felt the pulse of the ruins etched into the concrete like a tiny hammer against my brain stem. The tunes prevented any demons from passing through, and I was willing to bet that standing so close to the wall was what had spooked my shadow.

Athelstan and I waited in the parking lot at the edge of the delivery area until a limo rolled through the wire gate and drew to a stop six feet from where we stood. I glanced back at the driver, and he gave a single nod, urging me to get in the vehicle.

I strode to the limo and opened the back door when no one stepped out to greet me.

There was no one inside save for buttery leather and the smell of car air freshener. Even the driver was obscured behind a partition. I settled down and buckled my seat belt.

“Ms. Boudaire?” The driver's voice crackled over the speakers.

“That’s me.” I gave a jaunty wave.

As soon as I confirmed my identity, the engine started with an almost silent purr. We pulled away from the delivery area. The windows were too dark to see, but I wondered if Athelstan had watched me go.

“Do you know where we’re going?” I asked as the city bloomed around us. Streetlights bathed the road in purple light, and swanky bars and clubs flicked past us as we drove.

The driver didn’t answer.

It felt like we had driven straight through the center of the Red City, the roads pristine without potholes and the buildings shining and modern. Slowly, the glass and steel gave way to a ring of trees that marked the entrance to suburbia and sprawling mansion estates.

The Red City was larger than I had imagined, but so far, I hadn’t seen anything that would mark the place as distinctly demonic. No people being killed in the street or hunted for sport, and no human sacrifices on public altars in the town square.

In fact, besides being well-maintained and packed to the brim with demonic magic that tasted of burnt sugar, the Red City was unremarkable.

As soon as the thought crystallized in my mind, the car juddered to the side as if something had struck it. I bobbed in my seat and almost hit the ceiling of the limo—saved only by the seat belt I wore. The air rent an all mighty screech, like metal being torn into shreds. I placed my hands over my ears as my shadow coiled around me like a snake, forming a shield against whatever had made the noise.

The tinted windows made everything seem darker, and I couldn’t see whatever had made the horrible noise.

“What was that?” I lifted my voice to get the attention of the driver.

No response. A car door slammed. Whoever had been driving the limo had gotten out of the car and the hell out of dodge. I instinctively reached for the gun in my holster, remembering at the last second that I had been divested of any weapons when smuggled into the Red City. What I wouldn’t do for a knife or my Smith and Wesson at that exact moment.

Another ear piercing, bowel loosening howl sliced the air clean in two and made every hair on my body stand up. I unclipped my seat belt and took a deep breath.

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