Page 38 of Demon Sworn
I sigh, but I can’t get that mad, because at least Adam has someone to play with. I turn to Drogelzesh, a nightmare demon who’s one of the few demons outside my murder who knows sign language. I think it was a holdover from his prior life as an angel or something, before they fell.
I face Zesh, who’s heavy lidded eyes stare right back at me, a little ring of red in them. It’s probably getting close to time for him to go out and tempt people in their dreams, so I decide to make my questions quick.
Do you know anyone who is crazy enough to take on Akor?I sign. Because if I’m completely honest with myself, Akor’s the scariest motherfucker in our murder. Raz and I will cut people down, but Akor will cut them up into tiny little pieces, making sure they live long enough to see a jar filled with their own body parts.
Zesh looks at me for a long beat before he answers. When he raises his hands, it takes a while because he has to spell a lot of words out. He isn’t fluent. I notice Katrina’s eyes on us as Zesh signs, but I try not to let the fact that she’s watching distract me. We need a lead. Desperately.
Finally, when Zesh is done signing, I take a moment to sit back in my chair and try to string together what he spelled out for me as he stretches and goes over to Tatrys and the others, telling them he needs to get to work before disappearing in midair.
He’s gone for a second or two before I work it all out because Zesh mixed up the letters M and N, but when I do, I sit back in my seat with a huff.
Crap.
Raz comes over and sits next to me, nudging me with an elbow. “What did he say?” My leader’s eyes burn down into mine, and for the millionth time, I’m glad I stepped down from the position. I don’t envy what he’s about to have to do.
I glance around, to make sure the other guys aren’t looking. Then I sign,We’re going to have to talk to Akor’s uncle.
Raz’s face says it all. We’re going to be lucky to come out of a chat like that alive.
16
Katrina
The waterin the shower stings my skin.
It’s probably too hot, steam wafting from the steady flow, but I can’t bring myself to turn the dial down. It’s sick and twisted and fucked up, but…I enjoy the pain at the moment. The sensation of watching my skin turn a flushed red as I lose myself to the heat.
I close my eyes as the warmth blazes through me, bringing my hands up to scrub shampoo through my pink hair. It’s getting too long, in desperate need of a cut, but I still love the color. Maybe at some point I’ll dye it again. Purple like Lucy’s? Maybe blue? Green? I try to picture myself with green hair but quickly decide that green isnotmy color.
Almost rhythmically, I scratch my scalp with my fingernails as my mind wanders.
It’s actually a horrible feeling, like you’re venturing through a wasteland riddled with bear traps and explosives. One wrong move, and you’ll explode into thousands of pieces, nothing but a splash of deteriorating bones and rapidly drying blood.
Because a person’s mind? It’s a scary place, especially when said person has endured the shit I have.
Adam…
I swear I can hear him laughing at something Akor says while Zolroth reprimands him. My materialism demon has been trying to convince him to wear a suit, because that’s exactly what every four-year-old wants. Though I have to admit, it’ll be freaking adorable to see Adam in an immaculately pressed brown suit and dark red tie.
The smile slides from my face, and my pulse races, the sloshing of blood in my ears loud and deafening.
We still don’t know what happened to him, and I’m beginning to think we never will. My demons truly believe he wasn’t physically hurt, but psychologically? That’s a completely different story.
And I still have to tell him that our parents are dead. They may not have been perfect, but they were ours. Mom and Dad. Two words Adam will never be able to say sincerely again.
All of this is related. I just fucking know it. It’s too much of a coincidence that the attacks on my guys started after they found me, after they came into my life like dark princes on steeds of death and destruction. This world is nothing if not a dangerous, intricate spider web. The second you become trapped in its binding, it’s impossible to free yourself before the spider comes and eats you.
But I refuse to be eaten.
I refuse to give in.
Maybe…
Maybe the demons finding me was the trigger. The catalyst, you could say, that spurred the bad guy into making his move.
But why?
I rake my fingers through my soapy hair, pausing when they catch on a snarl, before sighing and grabbing a bottle of soap. One smell confirms that it’s the same one Zolroth uses. I like that—smelling like my man, I mean. It fills me with a primal, possessive feeling that’s entirely foreign but not unwelcome.
