Page 58 of Court of Evil

“Yep,” I answer with a choked laugh. “You should do that back to her every time she asks something. She’ll love it.”

“Got it. Mistress, wait!”

Floating at Tate’s side, I stare at the straggly, hunched old man behind the desk of the cheap motel as he eyes Tate with lust. I came in for moral support, and Tate, well, she’s the only one not covered in blood and guts. I cannot imagine asking the fae or, worse, Addeus to book a room. I have a feeling it would end with this old, wrinkled raisin man being eaten.

“How many beds, girlie?” He cracks a grin, showing crooked yellow teeth, and I shiver in revulsion. I can smell him from here. Even if I couldn’t, I can see the sweat stains on his once white tank, which is barely hidden behind an oversized, alsostained shirt. His hair is grey, with most of it missing on top, and it’s unkempt.

“Thank fuck I will never get old. If I ever look like him, just shoot me,” I mutter to Tate.

“Gladly, but I won’t wait for you to get old to do that,” she hisses.

“What did you say?” he asks, and she forces a fake grin.

“Two beds, please.”

“I am not sharing with the tempest or fae,” I snap. She ignores me as the man turns and roots through a drawer, his ass crack visible as he bends over.

My eyes rove around the cheap motel we are in. It isn’t too close to the crime scene, but it isn’t too far either. It’s an ask no questions sort of place, which is exactly what we need since we have three blood-covered monsters outside carrying what looks like a corpse. A noise catches my attention, and as Tate strokes her blade, clearly debating murdering either me or him, I float over the desk and peer around the cracked door he exited when we entered the small, dingy reception area.

“Ronan,” she hisses.

“Ya, ya, just a minute,” the old man snaps with a cough.

I turn my head, and she widens her eyes at me in warning. Grinning, I duck inside the room, my eyes widening as I stare at the old-style TV and what is playing on it. I watch it for a minute before popping up right in front of Tate. She jerks back, glaring at me.

“You have to see this. He’s watching porn back there. Really nasty, dirty, old-school stuff.” I laugh.

“Not now,” she hisses, and I turn to see the creepy guy holding out a key.

“You don’t want the room?” he scoffs.

“No, I do.” She reaches through me, making me shudder, and delicately takes the key so she doesn’t have to touch him. Hetries to stroke her skin, but she’s faster, and her smile is tight as he nods at him.

She swiftly retreats to the door, sparing him a narrowed look.

“Shame all the hot ones are crazy,” he grumbles.

“You have no idea,” I tell him as I lean into the counter. “Is that a VHS porn tape? Would you be mad if I took it?” He heads back into the room and sits, and I frown. “That’s rude! Very anti-physically able to be seen—oh, your little dick is out. I’m gone.” I hurry after Tate, finding her trying to discreetly herd her monsters to the end room. Once inside, she shuts the door on me, and I have to float through. I rub my nose and glare at her, but she ignores me, focusing on the tempest as he gently lays the warlock on the horrible green and brown patterned bedspread. There’s striped, green wallpaper peeling on the walls, a rickety table with only one chair, and a small bathroom with a sink outside of it, but I guess it will do.

Floating over to the warlock, I watch as his head turns in his sleep, his hair falling away to reveal his face, and I hiss. “God damn, look at that!”

“What?” Tate demands, hurrying over.

I point at the warlock as I look at her. “Boy looks like he was hit with a pretty spell. Seriously, I’m not into sausage, but how is he so pretty?” I glance down at him. “I could maybe be into sausage a little, especially if they looked like that. Damn, Tate, you should definitely fuck this one and let me watch again.”

“Again?”

I turn, backing up as she narrows her eyes on me just as a groan sounds, and our eyes turn to the warlock. He doesn’t wake up, but she tosses me a glare and heads over to the chair, throwing her bag onto the table with a sigh.

“It’s okay, mistress,” Tem says, and he flips her off with both hands.

She blinks at him, and a knife embeds in the wall by his side.

“Mistress, I’m sorry!” He falls to his knees and crawls over the nasty carpet to her. “Tell me how I have displeased you.” He flips her off again when he’s at her feet, and I can’t help but laugh.

“He’s so gullible,” I remark.

“Ronan!” she yells, and another knife heads my way.

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