Page 31 of Spit

He continued to look at me.

I met his glare. “You know, it wouldn’t kill me to have all the information here. Back in New Orleans, I run a security company. I specialize in bounties, collections, and risk assessment. I’d give you the whole spiel, but my point is that nullifying that spell didn’t do much apart from letting Magicktek know that someone is looking for your friends. If they have them, they are going to go to ground.”

“That is what I am worried about.” Mr. Legion admitted, adjusting the lapels of his perfectly tailored suit. “But, that ward cloaks the entire building. If Magicktek has Mars and Quinn, they aren’t keeping them there.”

“Who did the scrying?” I asked.

“Several witches, but they all became addled when they tried to enter the building.”

I sighed. “I don’t know much about scrying, but maybe there was something in the building that lured them there. Why would Magicktek hold demons hostage?” I wondered.

Mr. Legion considered my words. “When this Red City was founded in Louisiana, we made a treaty with the US Government that we would allow researchers to have a base within the city's walls. The terms of the treaty are unambiguous. They cannot interfere with demonic business unless it directly risks a human life or is responding to taking human life—this does not fall under that exception. My facets are well-behaved, and until last week, we were bonded and linked. If they had taken a life, I would know.”

I grimaced.

“What?” Mr. Legion quirked a brow when he saw my expression.

“Do you think there is a possibility that two of your facets are dead?”

He shook his head. “No.”

The subject was closed then.

“I need to know exactly what you want from me.” I sounded tired, tired of life. Tired of everything. “I have a life back in New Orleans, and I need to get back to it.”

Mr. Legion looked at me but did not turn his head. “Mr. Bub assured me that you would be able to stay until my facets are home, safe and sound. He did not tell me there was a time limit on that help. He owed me a favor, and I collected.”

My stomach sank, turning sour. “No time limit?”

“You work for Mr. Bub, do you not?”

I didn’t want to explain the contract that I was being held to. The one that I hadn’t read since I was ten years old and desperate to escape a life of being small and powerless. Mr. Bub had helped me, even though I didn’t want to think about how.

“We have a contract,” I admitted stiffly. “I will see the job through until its end. I would like to know exactly what is expected of me, though. I would also like to be moved from the witches' quarters. My null abilities will render the coven inert if I continue to stay near them, and I’m sure you don’t want a group of powerless women living in your house.”

Mr. Legion’s expression turned dark. “I’m not sure you should presume to know what I want.”

I had no idea what he meant by that, and as I pondered his words, the car pulled up to the sidewalk, and the locks clicked. Mr. Legion opened the door and sprung onto the street as if he couldn’t stand to be close to me for even another moment. I tried not to be offended. We had just met, and I had to stop measuring demons against human benchmarks.

It was easy to forget that Mr. Legion was a demon and a powerful one if Beelzebub owed him a favor. Mr. Bub was a king for a reason; being around him was like holding onto an airplane by your fingernails. The pressure on the eardrums was unpleasant, not even counting how every hair stood on end and the churning screaming feeling in my gut to run as far and as fast as possible.

Though Mr. Legion was a demon, I didn’t want to run away from him. Something about him pulled you in. He was detached, well-dressed, and articulate. The kind of man you expected to be looking out of a floor-to-ceiling mirror on the front of a billionaire romance novel.

I had no idea what kind of demon Ichi Legion was, and I almost didn’t want to find out because that would break the illusion.

The curb was painted lucid yellow, as were the street lamps. “What Sin is yellow?” I asked.

“Sloth.” Mr. Legion sniffed as he frowned at the warehouse in front of us.

Together, we walked through the broken fence and towards the large building. Casting a large shadow against the street below, a warehouse converted into an apartment building stood in front of us. The windows had been replaced sometime in the last five years, but the shell of the building had succumbed to time. The only hints that it was no longer a warehouse were the mailboxes and the apartment numbers listed by the door.

Mr. Bub had never been forthcoming with information about hell and other sins. I had no idea what types of demons hailed from Sloth, but I had a feeling I was about to find out.

Legion rang the buzzer for the top floor, holding it down for an inordinate amount of time. I gave him a look that he ignored. We waited for several seconds, but no one answered. With a sigh, Legion reached forward, flicking his wrist so that the lapel of his suit jacket exposed his hand entirely. With a twist, he broke the steel door handle into several pieces with no more effort than it would take me to snap a glow stick. He pushed the door, and it swung open; the door knob on the other side fell to the floor with a loud clang.

He swept his arm to the side. “After you.”

I eyed the dark hallway. “I think you should go first.”

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