Page 25 of Cry for Help

I knew more than one married woman in prison who also had a girlfriend behind bars. Receiving letters from their husband and bragging to all that would listen while getting railed by another inmate the moment they found a moment of privacy.

“I see the truth of everything.” He slurred. “But not you. I have to hear someone’s voice toknowthem. But you haven’t made a peep.”

The word ‘know’was loaded with meaning. I wondered what he meant. Did hearing someone’s voice let him see into their soul?

I wasn’t fool enough to let him look inside me. I was rotten to the core.

I hadn’t killed my foster family, but I might as well have. I was the reason they were dead. If I hadn’t snuck out that night, I could have called the police. To dosomething.

Instead, they had died in a horribly human way. Gunshot. For absolutely no reason. I’d been found in a pool of their blood, and the rest was history.

I reached out and patted Murmur’s knee with sympathy.

I could understand why he smoked. Why he needed to escape. To know the truth inside of people, inside everyone? Icouldn’t imagine a worse torture.

Murmur inhaled a drag from his pipe, falling back on the cushion and staring at the ceiling. “I’m dying.” Murmur lamented.

Could demons die?I wondered, or perhaps he was being dramatic. I sniffed the air, wondering what drug he was smoking to be so melancholy.

The parlor looked like a rich person’s smoking lounge despite the beanbags on the floor. I spotted the sex demons, shimmering with lust magic as they drifted about the room. I had never seen so many demons in one place.

Incubi and succubae were easy enough to identify, but I had yet to find out what Stolas and the others were. And what sin they belonged to.

Murmur let out a low groan, his eyes fluttering closed as he slumped back and fell asleep. The pipe fell from his hands, and I snatched it up before it burnt the expensive carpet.

I sniffed the lip of the pipe. It smelled like blood.

A tinkling giggle sounded from behind me. I glanced over, meeting the gaze of one of the golden succubae. She held out her hand.

“My name is Amethyst.” She declared, “And he’s smoking demon blood.”

My brows arched in surprise as I looked down at the pipe in my hand.

“It’s more common amongst humans,” She rubbed her thumb against her bottom lip. “But all things considered, it probably makes him feel better.”

I wanted to ask why, but I remained silent.

“Have you heard of aDaemon?” Amethyst stood up, drifting from her chair, to sit on the floor beside me. She took my hand and turned it over, brushing her fingers against my palm. She was beautiful, but I wasn’t interested. Still, she kepther lust magic in check. There was no outside force battering my inhibitions as she spoke. It seemed she was just a naturally touchy-feely person.

“A Daemon is a human, tainted by demonic magic. It is a gift we can give to those we wish to remain with us. To live forever.” Amethyst sighed, glancing at Murmur with pity. “We would offer such a gift to Stolas and his Flock, but no one wants to step on Lucifer’s toes. Even if he’s dead, now, there’s every chance he might return. One day.” Amethyst glanced over her shoulder. “You came here with Stolas, right? I heard Asmodeus made a deal. Her heart is too big. It’s going to get her in trouble.”

Asmodeus? There was that name again. I recognized it but couldn’t place it.

Someone waved at Amethyst, calling her over. She smiled apologeticly before drifting away.

I sat, bored, with an unconscious Murmur while the demons surrounding us smoked blood and drank themselves silly before pairing off and leaving the room.

Less than an hour passed before Stolas entered the room, his lip pursed and his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at Murmur without sympathy.

Stolas clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth before he remembered I was there. “Murmur didn’t spill any of our secrets, did he?” He asked, but based on the glint in his dark eyes, Stolas wasn’t joking.

I hadn’t understood much of what Murmur had said and had attributed most of that to his addled state. I hadn’t understood half of his mumblings.

My mind swam with sensory overload. My skin prickled from the residual lust magic, and I was more than ready to go home.

Stolas heaved Murmur over his shoulder, carrying him to the car.

Not a single demon paid us any mind as we left.

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