Page 44 of Spit

When I was full, I sat on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

I’d been stabbed.

I couldn’t believe it.

Whatever was happening in the Red City had gotten personal.

I needed sleep, so I pulled off my clothes and draped my leather jacket over the edge of the bed. Feeling the crinkle of something in the pocket. I reached inside, pulling out the brightly colored pamphlet from Magicktek that I had swiped earlier.

Money offered for medical testing volunteers.

Adelaide passed shortly after we had moved into her apartment in NOLA. When I was a teenager in the city, living alone, without any money or anywhere to go, I’d taken stupid risks and jobs.

My first job was an overnight gig at a factory in Crescent Park. It was my job to walk the grounds at night and ensure no homeless people climbed into the small utility room visible from the street. I’d walked miles around an abandoned warehouse with only a white belt in judo and a taser on my hip.

My other jobs weren’t great; I’d stood at the door of clubs and checked IDs. I’d been a prison guard in the local correctional facility for a short period.

I’d met Kailee when I was hired as personal security to a few dancers at a strip club. She had pink hair and worked the pole as a personal FU to her daddy.

When Kailee’s dad threw a bunch of money at her to stop her from stripping, the only reason she’s taken it was because of me. Kailee wanted a business but didn’t have skills apart from picking up dollar bills with her ass cheeks (her words, not mine).

I offered my null services as something that would set us apart if we went into the security business—and the rest was history. Small-time jobs riding people of spooks or hexes.

I had no experience solving mysteries. I had common sense and self-defense skills, but I wasn’t Sherlock Holmes. My attention span wasn’t great, and my anger issues were going to get me a stomach ulcer.

But I had a job to do.

Beelzebub had promised that he would free me from my contract if I found the missing demons in the Red City—and I was going to hold him to that.

I’d been in stasis for so long. Focusing on making rent and taking down every obstacle thrown my way as they popped up. So focused on the present that I never made plans for a future unless it was to eventually make a life for myself.

I didn’t have time to read the fine print, just like I didn’t have the money to bulk buy tampons or pay my car insurance premium in full rather than the more expensive installment plan.

I should have been paying more attention. I should have been fighting for myself more, but living with bone-crushing poverty was hard. Dare Security had only just started to break even after two solid years.

And then Beelzebub had stolen me away the night before my life-changing gig.

I could scream.

The guilt threatened to overwhelm me, but I didn’t have time for it. I had to find two missing demons, and I had to figure out why someone would try and stab me with silver nitrate.

I was no one in the grand scheme of things.

My first and only suspect for the whole train wreck was Magicktek. I’d have bet my left tit that they had stolen those demons, if only because of their dangerous but tasty wards.

But why?

Why would someone steal demons? Not just one steward, but two? Authority figures in the Red City. The demonic figureheads held positions, not just a random incubus or hellhound.

I pulled the comforter up to my chin, tiredness tugging at my thoughts.

I’d hit the ground running in the morning. It was the only way I’d find who was responsible for my stab wound and the only way I’d get home.

Back to my life.

I didn’t usually dream. My sleep had always been black, swirling darkness before I would blink awake moments before my alarm.

I felt like I was falling. When I woke up, my face was pressed against the glass. The lights were so bright that it was impossible to see.

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