Page 40 of Spit

Sev glanced at me so quickly that I almost missed it. “It’s strange that Beelzebub didn’t send a demon.”

“We needed a representative of Gluttony,” Legion explained. “As well as a null witch.”

The car rolled over a bump, and I winced in pain. The leg of my borrowed sweats clung to my skin, sticky with blood. What had been a small prick was bleeding more heavily than I had anticipated.

“Um, guys?” I rubbed my thigh, covering my hand in blood. The car smelt like copper and salt, but neither demon noticed. The words died on my tongue.

I’ve been stabbed.

They continued speaking as if they hadn’t heard me.

Maybe it was for the best. I’d be okay. The moment I got to my room, I’d bandage myself up. It couldn’t be that bad. I hadn't even felt it going in.

“Camio’s death wasn’t your fault.” Sev sniffed, turning to the window as we rolled to a stop outside of the mansion. “We’ll find who killed him, and we’ll find Mars and Quinn too. If it's Magicktek, there isn’t a place they can hide that Legion will not follow.”

Legion nodded staunchly, a promise.

Both men got out of the car, leaving me behind.

“Really?” I muttered to myself. “What am I? Chopped liver?” I humphed, taking my time to swing my now dead leg out of the car. My hands shook, and my vision swam.

I was more hurt than I expected.

I watched the backs of the two demons as they walked up the steps to the mansion, as I slumped down. I was so cold. So tired.

I’d just have a small rest.

Everything sounded far away.

I closed my eyes and fell into darkness.

Chapter Eight

Iwoke up slowly, my brain coasting and my body weightless as if I was on an inflatable sunbed in the middle of a pool.

I reached out for my shadow and its relentless hunger, only to find it curled up and fast asleep like a fat cat in the sun.

I didn’t remember where I was. For a moment, I believed that I was back in my New Orleans apartment on my black satin sheets, listening to the sounds of the other apartment residents as they got ready for their days.

My eyes flickered open, though I wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. I couldn’t feel my fingers and toes, and as soon as the realization sunk in, my reality slammed down hard.

I tried to sit up, but my head swam.

The light was too bright, and the bed was too hard. The low melodic beeping that I had dismissed started to go haywire—my heart rate, I realized.

“Ms. Boudaire.” A gentle but firm voice called out to get my attention. They repeated my name until my eyes finally focused on the man at the bottom of my bed.

Arlo, the demon that looked like he should be rolling around in a meadow filled with flowers and golden retriever puppies. The demon in charge of Wrath for the Red City in Louisiana. Though I remained dubious about that.

My tongue was too fat to speak, sticking to the roof of my mouth. I gestured to my face, and Arlo seemed to understand what I needed without my having asked for it.

He grabbed a glass of water and pressed it into my numb fingers. He took it when I struggled to raise the glass and helped me drink.

The water was ice cold, hurting my teeth, but it was the best thing I had ever tasted.

My mouth still felt strange, but I felt like I could finally speak. “Where am I?” I croaked.

“This is my lab.” Arlo took the glass and placed it on the bedside table. “I am the one with the most medical experience. So I volunteered to see to your health. Legion didn’t think the witches' healing potions, spells, or amulets would work on you.”

---