Page 72 of Demon Found

Sinking to the ground next to the package, my legs tremble. A small dark area at the bottom of one corner draws my attention. I run my fingertips across it and they come away damp, a congealed blob of red sticking between my thumb and forefinger.

Blood.

Dread pools in my gut. I can’t put this off. I run the scissors across the tape holding the box shut and nudge it open, peering inside.

Dark straggled fur streaked with more blood.No. No, they wouldn’t. With a strangled sob, I tip the contents of the box into my lap.

Dog.

The last damn person I expected to answer my door to was Camille. But there she is. In all her sleek sophisticated glory. I shuffle uncomfortably in my oversized sweats and scuff my stained slipper against the doorframe.

“What do you want, Camille?” Surreptitiously I rub my sleeve across my face. I can’t hide that my eyes are red from crying, but letting her stare at my dried tears is too much. Emotion catches in my throat all over again, and I swallow back a sob.

“Just to talk,” she says sweetly, peering past me into my dorm. “What the hell happened in here?”

Shit. I suppose I have to tidy before Naeve gets back. I’ve been living in my own filth for days, refusing to let the hadas clean up, wallowing.

“None of your damn business.”

She sniffs, stepping past me and shuts the door before I can protest. “If this is how you live, I probably don’t need to have this little talk with you. Farrell hates mess, but still...”

“Get. Out.”

“Not before I’ve said my piece, little hobo. The way you behaved at the ball, you can’t repeat it.”

What the actual hell? She was the one that caused that whole charade. I take a step toward her, hands twitching to cast, but she continues speaking, ignoring my threat.

“Leave Farrell alone. He’s mine.”

“He’s his own man.” My growl surprises me as much as it does Camille. She takes a small step back. It’s not like Farrell looked like he was into kissing me in the photos. His fists were clenched, white knuckled, deliberately not touching me. While I rubbed myself all over him. Heat creeps up the back of my neck.

“Fuck, Camille. I’m not trying to take Farrell.Youcaused this with your stupid disinhibitor. You.”

She looks uncomfortable. Her shoulders droop, some of her normal poise lost.

“You don’t understand. Without him, I’m nothing.”

That’s it, I’ve had enough of her and her stupid whining. “If you’re not here to apologize, I suggest you piss off. I’ve had a bad few days. Dog was killed . . . I just want to be left alone.” I freeze. Surely not even Camille would use that as ammo against me.

Instead of some harsh comeback like I expected, she leans her back to my wall and slides down until she’s sitting on the floor.

“I’m nothing without him. Just the family shame.”

What do I look like? Some kind of therapist?

“I’ve no damn idea what you’re talking about. Go talk to someone who cares.”

She looks up at me, chewing on her lip. “I . . . I can’t legally inherit. Not after the Angel King changed the rules. Marrying Farrell is my way out. Otherwise, I have nothing.”

The inheritance rules changed years ago. I barely paid attention. It’s not like I’m about to inherit anything. The Angel King ruled that if anyone without legitimate heirs died, their fortune reverted back to the crown, back to him. Yet another of his money-grubbing policies. It hits me.

“You’re a bastard?”

“I can’tlegallyown anything of my family’s. My dad made the match. It’s a good match. The best I’m going to get.” Her lips thin, and her eyes dart around. “Tellanyoneand I’ll make you regret it. It wont just be you, I’ll make Naeve suffer too.”

I grab her arm and yank her forcefully to her feet, but the bitch just keeps talking.

“You don’t need Farrell. Pick one of the others, if you must. Leave Farrell alone.”

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