Page 25 of Demon Kissed
“Usually, Zolroth insists on buying us clothes. Apparently, we don’t know how to dress. But you wouldn’t want to be with the stuffy old Brit, would you? I heard he has a ten-inch…” He turns to stare at me over his shoulder, still racing towards the exit. “Accent.”
A ten-inch…? You know what? I’m not even going to attempt to analyze Akor’s crazy.
I can see the wide doors in front of us, and my steps quicken. Akor continues to laugh raucously, keeping pace with me, despite the fact that I know he could easily outrun me.
Maybe it’s fucked up, but I can’t help but feel…exhilarated. A strange kind of giddiness fills my limbs. I’m running from mall security with thousands of dollars of stolen merchandise, and I have a big-ass smile on my face like some sort of psychopath.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Akor smiling just as widely, as alive by the thrill as I am. And this golden connection seems to shimmer in the air between us, like our souls are merging or some poetic weird shit—
Oh God. Am I the female version of Akor? Please, please no.
Pain erupts through my nose as I run straight into a brick wall.
No, not a brick wall—a terrifying security agent standing directly in front of me.
Three more surround Akor, who is still laughing like a freaking hyena.
“Come with me, miss,” the glowering man says, roughly grabbing my arm and yanking me forward.
Oh, fuck.
9
We arefrog-marched across the mall, our hands held behind our backs by a couple of burly security guards while the fattest one walks ahead of us, swinging his brightly-colored food court lemonade cup side to side to clear the way.
“Back! Get back!” he grunts, as if shoppers have any interest in stopping them.
Meanwhile, the insane thrill I felt is turtling. Sometimes, like when Akor makes eye contact with me, it pops back out. And other times, like when the lady at the frozen yogurt stand shakes her head at me in silent judgement, it hides deep inside.
What the hell was I thinking?
I wasn’t, that much is clear. Shit.
Akor loses several of the rings as we walk, and the indignant shop girl scurries behind us, scooping them up and hurling insults our way. “Stupid fucking thieves. You think you’re fucking smart? You stupid shits.”
She doesn’t have very creative insults. Maybe this is the first time she’s been robbed?
I realize I’ve said that aloud when Akor chuckles, but the next time she scoops up a ring that’s slid out of his pants, she mutters, “I don’t need more creative insults for you, tramp. When your face looks likethat, your existence itselfisan insult.”
Suddenly, she arches her back and screams, “Oh, Holy Lucifer!” as if she’s been set on fire.
Everyone freezes, and we stop to turn and stare. But just as quickly as she started writhing, she stops. She pulls herself off the floor, wipes down the spittle that’s covering her face, gives us a nasty look, and stomps back to her store.
Once she’s gone, Akor shakes his pants, letting the remaining rings fall out and roll across the floor. The chubby security guard waddles around picking them up as the other two make us continue our walk of shame through the mall.
Two exercising grandmothers in tracksuits shake their heads as they pass us. “Matching pink-haired hooligans,” one mutters.
And I look over and realize that the dyed portion of Akor’s hair does look a little bit similar to mine. For some strange reason, that brings a smile to my face.
But that smile is quickly ripped away when we’re shoved roughly into the tiny, windowless cube that houses mall security. There’s a desk with a bunch of security cameras with black and white screens piled on top of it. The whole place smells of urine, and my nose crinkles.
I look to my right, and the smell makes a lot more sense. There’s an entire row of yellow plastic chairs for lost kids, and one of them is occupied by a sniffling little girl.
My heart melts. She looks like she’s Adam’s age, and sympathy surges through me.
Giving her a soft smile, I whisper, “Hey, I’m sure your mom will be here soon.”
“Quiet!” barks the guy with the lemonade, sloshing it authoritatively in my direction.
