Page 58 of Spit

Legion stopped walking. “Did it say what type of trials they were?”

“No.”

He cursed.

“Maybe I could try and set up an interview. Submit an application for one of the trials? Go into their head office to get more information?” I suggested.

“Absolutely not,” Legion growled. “You were stabbed yesterday.”

“They were probably targeting you. Not me.” I waved my hand dismissively.

“Then they would have stabbed me. Not you.” Legion parried, his eyes narrowed, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a barely concealed snarl. Something had gotten under his skin, and I had no idea what.

Legion blinked as if he had the same thought as I and reared back. Shaking his head to clear it.

“What?” I rubbed my cheek, self-conscious.

Legion’s eyes narrowed. “Are you always this contrary?”

I gave him a look that he took to mean a resounding yes. Legion sighed, resting his hand on the back of the nearest chair as he leaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’re a security specialist.” He said.

“Is that a statement or a question?”

“Both.” He waved a hand as if exhausted from the conversation.

“Yes. I co-own a security company in NOLA. We consult generally. Looking for flaws in current security systems and testing staff on procedures like a secret shopper. Sometimes we do bodyguard detail, but those are generally long-term contracts hired directly and don’t require an agency.” I explained, knitting my fingers together. “I can protect a body from magical and physical attacks, so I’m usually hired by Supes rather than mortals. Supes don’t tend to pay

well. You tend to hold onto your money if you’re immortal.”

Legion’s lip twitched, amused by my rambling. “Have you ever had a demon for a client?”

Was he joking? “I have a long-term contract with Beezelbub,” I said, offering no more information.

“How long have you held that contract?”

“Fifteen years.” I clipped.

Legion studied me further, and I got the impression he was searching for signs of age on my face. “You can’t be older than thirty.”

“Twenty-five.” I tried not to take offense that he had guessed my age as older. He was a demon that had probably been alive thousands of years.

“Twenty-five.” Legion waved a hand at my correction, then paused to dissect the implications of what my age meant.

Yes. Mr. Bub had locked me down at the age of ten. No. There wasn’t a way out of the contract until the King of Gluttony said so. And as Gluttons often did, every time I tried to break ties, he’d screamjust one morethe way I did when I snarfed down my favorite Macha-flavored KitKat bar from the Asian supermarket near my house.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said.

“Okay.”

“What were your plans for today?” I pressed.

“I need you.” Legion’s dark eyes flashed, and my heart skipped a beat. “We’re going to the city to retrace Mars and Quinn’s steps.”

“That makes sense.” I breathed, recovering from my stupid heart pounding from Legion’s declaration.

For a moment, my body had gone against what my mind and heart knew—I could never allow someone to get close enough. Even demons weren’t safe from the curse that Mr. Bub had shackled me with.

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