Page 81 of Spit

The dark silhouette held the blade in its hand before it vanished into the ether.

When I finally left the room, I almost tripped on Arlo’s prone form in the hallway. I almost didn’t recognize him in his red demonic form, curled up like a cat. The only thing missing was the tail, though I couldn’t see through his ripped black shorts, so all bets were off.

Arlo looked up, his red eyes taking me in and cataloging that I was healthy and whole. He stood up, brushing his bare chest with his hands as if he was brushing wrinkles from a shirt, and the giant demon dissolved into a slight blond man who was no taller than me. Still wearing his round-framed glasses and his usual needy shirt and jeans, I wondered what kind of magic he used to clothe himself. Maybe illusion, like the bodies at Trey’s warehouse?

“Good morning.” The demon tipped his head in greeting.

“Were you guarding my door?” I asked.

Arlo reached up, ruffling the wavy yellow hair at the base of his neck. His cheeks turned pink, and he cleared his throat. “My room is down the hall.”

I noticed that he didn’t answer the question. “Legion didn’t come to visit?”

“You don’t have to worry about Ichi Legion,” Arlo told me gravely.

My eyes widened. “You didn’t kill your brother, did you?”

Arlo’s looked horrified. “Death and darkness, no.” He shook his head vehemently. “Legion doesn’t seem to be affected by your curse, though I can’t say why. I have run several tests, and I don’t have anything conclusive.”

“Do you think the silver nitrate negated the demonic curse?” I asked.

“That’s one theory. Though there was a large amount of something called Xylazine in his blood. It’s a drug that targets the central nervous system.” Arlo said as we began to walk down the hall.

“Xylazine?” I echoed. “I haven’t heard of that one.”

“You wouldn’t. It's typically used in veterinary medicine.” He replied.

“Are we going to breakfast?” I asked as my stomach sang the song of its people.

“Legion called a meeting in the dining room.” Arlo opened the door and allowed me to walk through first. “He received a ransom note this morning.

Finally, there was something. A direction. A clue.

I’d had enough of roaming the city and coming up short. Still, the ransom note was a sign that the missing demons were alive and that the kidnappers wanted something, but whether Legion could give it would be another matter.

I’d walked up to the dining room every morning, but I never got over the feeling that I was walking into a regency novel that had been highjacked by a bunch of surly men.

Sev sat on the windowsill, fanning himself with a newspaper, looking out onto the grounds. One leg propped up, with his elbow resting on his knee. His black hair was wet as if he had just come out of the shower, and his shirt was undone save for one button at his stomach. He sighed before glancing at me, his lips crooked into a come-hither smile.

I quirked my brow and held back the urge to tell the lust demon that he looked like a brooding hero—he would have taken it as a compliment. I frowned as I studied his face, trying to pinpoint what was different before I realized that he had tightlined his eyes with kohl. (Something I had leaned from Kailee, who was a makeup savant compared to my makeup illiteracy.)

Trey sat sprawled on a chair, his legs parted so widely that it looked like he was on the edge of falling out of his seat. His head lulled, with his chestnut hair stuck to his face. His rosy lips parted, and the inside of his mouth was visible as he gave a large yawn. He appeared to be ready to take a nap until he sensed my presence, and he perked up like I was an espresso shot.

Arlo laughed and patted me on the shoulder before he moved to take his seat. The wrath demon seemed to make himself much smaller than he was as if he wanted to draw the least amount of attention possible. He kept his head down, his blond hair covering his eyes, as he chose a seat in the only empty corner of the room and poured himself a mug of coffee from the jug on the table.

Finally, Legion. At the head of the table, the man himself. Pride didn’t show any signs of having been drugged or poisoned the day before. His charcoal suit was perfectly pristine, his pocket square just so. His golden complexion was without pores or imperfections. His hair was shiny, just enough to be healthy without being greasy.

Legion took a tip from his small cup, a lucid green liquid that could have only been some kind of health smoothie or a type of matcha tea. His inky eyes fixed on mine over the rim of his cup.

I jolted when I returned to myself, realizing that I had been standing in the doorway, openly gawking at the men for a good few minutes. I lifted my hand and gave an awkward wave before I chose one of the empty seats near the door.

Legion sighed heavily and reached for the note on the table in front of him. He held it up between two fingers.

I zeroed in on the tiny scrap of paper. “Is that the ransom note?” My shadow raced through the room, tasting the air. My null magic did the same. I searched the paper for some hint of magic. A taste. My shadow was a bloodhound when it came to magic, and I was confident that if there was something to be found on the paper, my shadow would find it.

I frowned. It was clean. Which was impossible.

Gluttony magic was ravenous; it sucked and gulped and left the world feeling like quicksand. The absence of magic on the note did not feel like gluttony, a null blade, or anything I had ever encountered. It was just an inert piece of paper. Nothing special.

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