Page 60 of Spit

“I could take your magic if I wanted to.” I had no idea why I said that.

Trey glanced at me out of the side of his eye. I couldn’t read his expression.

“I’m sure you could.” Trey’s voice held no emotion. “First stop is the auction house in the First Circle. Legion was adamant that I stick to the itinerary and not get distracted.”

“What would you do if you weren’t going to the auction house?” I asked. Wondering what Sloth did besides sleep.

“Well, stop two is a bar. So I’d probably just skip step one.” He laughed.

I laughed with him.

There was no awkwardness though I had only met him the day before. None of the apprehension I usually felt around men and sometimes women. People didn’t usually pounce on me and kiss me, but I was always wary. Somehow, being around Trey felt easy—and that worried me.

Legion was a powerhouse. Being near him felt like standing in the eye of the storm

On the other end, being around Sev felt like I was sword-fighting an opponent. Both of us watched each other to gauge their next move. He was lust, and the first time I met him, my worst nightmare had played out in my mind. I had been reduced to a quivering and sniveling mess.

I would never allow Sev to make me feel that way again, and I got the impression that he was desperate to find out what had made me that way.

Not so he could tear me apart, but so he could solve a puzzle. Sev liked to feel intelligent and superior.

As opposed to Legion, who just was.

Then there was Arlo—I didn’t know what to think about Arlo. He was the quiet kid at school that you kept asking questions, hoping he would deign to answer.

Arlo was Wrath, but so far, I hadn’t seen anything that would indicate his sin. Whenever I spoke to him, I wondered if something would make him snap. What would be the push that would reveal his true nature? Would I be caught in the cross fire if that happened?

Arlo was intelligent, though he gave off a flighty kind of vibe. As if he didn’t care one iota about the affairs of mere mortals.

Those kinds of people could snap. Hard.

Then there was Trey. Who sat next to me in the care, uncaring about the silence we had fallen into.

Trey was sarcastic. Trey asked too many questions and wasn’t afraid to tell people what he was thinking—even if it meant upsetting them. He had no issue giving Legion shit, and I got the impression that Legion didn’t allow many people to speak to him that way.

How had I fallen in with a group of demons? Would it be so bad if I made friends?

I couldn’t have physical intimacy, but that didn’t matter.

The orgy last night had proved that the demons had those needs taken care of.

Death and darkness, I was jealous.

It curdled my stomach like spoiled milk.

But I couldn’t tell if I was jealous that the demons had partners that weren’t me or that they could touch, kiss, and fuck people so easily, and I couldn’t.

Chapter Ten

The streets were lined with mirrored buildings. The same kind I had seen in photos of London and NYC skyscrapers, reflecting the sky back onto itself. Though the buildings were nowhere near as tall as the New York sky line, they were tall enough, stretching into the sky like they were competing to reach for the heavens. If I didn’t know that the auction house was located in Pride, I would have guessed.

Every street was lined with hair salons, beauty parlors, and clothing stores. Everything someone would need to maintain themselves if they had money to spend. I hadn’t had to reach for my wallet once since arriving at the red city, which was just as well because I wasn’t in a position to burn money.

I spared a minute to wonder how the demons managed to swing a location for both Hermes* and Gucci—before imagining the meeting between Legion and some execs.

It would definitely be in everyone’s best interest to give the demons of the Red City all of the shiny things they desired. Lest the demons decided they wanted to run riot on the human cities again.

Though most of the First sector was sleek and modern, as we got closer to the city center, the architecture changed to become more historical where all the sins collected at the epicenter. I could have easily been in NOLA, surrounded by the balconies of the townhouses and the creole terraces. I felt a pang of home sickness as we rolled up in front of a terracotta building that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Canal Street.

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