Page 11 of Demon Sworn
I stare down at John and Jane Doe November 2, 2020, 505 Holly Street North, internal injuries resulting from a car accident. The tag has them labeled as unidentified bodies and names the street they were found on. Coincidence they should die the way Kastros tried to kill their daughter.
Ironic but not funny. Not even a little bit.
I’m shocked by the amount of emotion that swirls through me for two people I hardly knew. Two people I know were neglectful, shitty parents and are probably—deservedly—in Hell right now, maybe in the bog of selfishness, a suburb of Hell where all the self-absorbed souls spend eons trapped in a bog full of fog, doing nothing but wading around and bumping into one another, unable to see past the tips of their own noses.
Normally, that would bring a smile to my face because I’d imagine their souls gradually learning a lesson about free will and the responsibilities that come with it, before being sent back out to the universe…but I have no smiles tonight.
I glance at the date on the label again. November.
Fuck. That’s weeks ago, shortly after we arrived. My brow furrows, and I look at their faces again, wishing I could ask them questions. But souls in Hell don’t remember the details of their past lives, and if they do, the details are murky at best, and I can’t just fly through the realms expecting quick, easy answers. Dammit.
How have Katrina’s parents been dead so long? I stare at her mother, whose eyes are closed, cheeks sunken. Their bodies have shriveled, even inside the little fridges humans used to store themselves like Christmas hams.
What is going on?
Katrina saw them, spoke to them, argued with them after we arrived. Kastros all but destroyed them.
Something very, very wrong is happening here.
Staring down at the blue-hued faces, I feel anticipatory stings. Katrina’s pain. Her grief. The guilt of unsaid words. Horrid, gaping questions and what-ifs. Unresolved issues. The biggest unresolved issue of all though, is this…
If Katrina’s parents are dead, have been dead, then who the fuck has Adam?
5
Katrina
I twistmy head to kiss Raz’s chest, directly over his tattooed heart. He smooths a hand over my tangled pink hair while his other hand types a reply to whomever just texted him. His lips are set into a scowl, and the lines around his eyes seem even deeper and more pronounced than ever before.
“Is something wrong?” I question tentatively, and he startles, as if having forgotten that we’re lying in bed together while Zolroth irons his clothes and the rest of the guys try to find…
I can’t think his name.
It hurts too fucking much.
Part of me wants to be out there searching, but I don’t have damned wings. Or magic. Despite that weird moment in Heaven, I’m just human. The only thing I can do is slow them down. And after pacing the floor for an hour, Raz made me come in here and lie down. At first, I was still jiggling my leg and tapping my fingers frantically, but then he pulled me tight against him and just held me, making me breathe with him.
He sings me a lullaby. An actual demon lullaby. And his voice is smoky and rich and beautiful, the vibrations from his chest seeping into my ear as I lie on him, the noise soothing me. He reaches the chorus, a soft chant about choice and consequence. Before I know it, I’m humming along, enchanted but also wide-eyed in fascination.
I break off, staring down at the comforter, at his toes. “I don’t know this song. But I do. How do I know this song?”
Raz chuckles, making my head bob up and down. “I used to sing it to you in your sleep. I’d watch you through the realms, rip a little hole from the dream realm into your room some nights and…I couldn’t resist. When you sleep, baby girl, you’re the ultimate temptation. The desire to wake you… Some nights, I sang to both of you, if your brother was in your room. You and—” He cuts off.
The silence in the room resumes, and Raz makes me breathe with him some more, and this time, I think it might be so that he doesn’t cry. After several minutes of counting our breaths, I feel a little better, a bit less like a wild mama bear and a bit more human. So I ask again, “Who texted? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” Raz places a calloused finger beneath my chin and tilts my face up, leaning down so that his abs scrunch underneath my fingers. He plants his lips lightly on mine. As always, fire dances in my veins from the menial connection, and I have to rein in the urge to deepen the kiss. It doesn’t feel right to do that today. How can I possibly be happy when my brother is missing and Kastros—
Once more, I cut that thought off, push it inside a coffin, snap the lid shut, and then secure it with thousands of sharp nails. Only then do I bury it beneath dirt and concrete, praying that it’ll never see the light of day again.
“Raz…”
He offers me a small smile, one that doesn’t meet his eyes, and reluctantly releases me, reclining back and gently moving me off of my comfortable spot splayed out on top of him. Instead, he settles me onto a much less satisfying pillow before sliding off the bed himself and standing. “I need to head downstairs and talk to the others, but you should sleep. You look exhausted.” He tentatively lifts a hand to trace the bags beneath both of my eyes, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
“I’m not—”
He cuts me off with a chaste kiss to my forehead, leaning down and securing the covers around me once more. “I’ll be back in a bit, baby girl. Try to get some sleep.”
I mumble something that might be an affirmative or might be a series of vowels. My jaw cracks open with the force of my yawn as I shift in bed, attempting to get comfortable.
