Page 14 of Sigils & Spells

But I canfeelthe shift in the air like a ghost.

“Who’s there?” I shout, not sure if whoever it is, is idiotic enough to answer me at this point, even if it is just some dumb street kid.

I dart my gaze back and forth, but again I see nothing, and just as I am about to give up and pour myself another drink, I hear the deep, undulating growl of a demon and a heavy, thick hand covers my mouth. The sweet, chemical scent of poison fills my airways and I feel hazy. My vision blurs, fading to black, and I think,this is it.

Death has finally come for me.

CHAPTER9

EVIE

Angel has goneto take Q’s bonus payment for “volunteering” to the dead man’s family.

Ivan laughed when Angel demanded the money, but he handed it over like it didn’t matter. And it probably doesn’t, I realize. Ivan Cambridge is beyond wealthy, and he’s willing to spend all that money on this unhinged project of his.

There’s something deeply wrong with Ivan. After his men cleared Q’s body from the testing room, he came looking for me even though, as Angel pointed out, he had cameras everywhere.

I’m certain he watched us kissing, and that certainty makes my skin crawl.

“Time to get back to work, you two,” he’d said cheerfully, as if we hadn’t all just participated in killing a man.

Now I’m sitting on a stool in the lab and trying to keep from shivering.

I might be in shock too.

I wish Angel were here with me.

Dr. Fitton is bustling around the lab, rearranging the vials of formula—both the original green version and the new pink version. When he’s done, he glances up at me. “Okay. Do you know what went wrong?”

I blink.What went wrong? Well, a man died…

My mouth opens, but no words come out. There’s no simple answer to that question, is there? How far back should I go?

Then the answer comes to me.

“I should never have taken this job.”

“What?” Fitton looks legitimately confused.

“I don’t belong here.”

“Are you kidding? Your magic has gotten us closer to a stable formula than we’ve ever been before. The subject shifted completely. That’s a huge step forward!”

Jesus. He sounds excited. Like I should be thrilled at having gotten new information. And he’s calling Q “the subject,” as if taking away his name can erase the fact that he was a person, a man with a family, people who loved him. People who will miss him now that he’s gone.

People who will never know how awful and unnecessary his death truly was.

“And what precisely do you think we should do next?” I ask.

Apparently, Dr. Fitton doesn’t pick up on the sarcasm in my tone. “Continue modifying the formula, of course.”

“Of course,” I mutter darkly.

“Excellent,” Dr. Fitton says, again missing my tone. “I’ve set up your workstation with both the old and the new versions of the formula. Start working on a new version and I will begin analyzing the data from the latest test.”

Instead, I stand up and walk out of the lab.

I can’t stay here.

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