Page 15 of Demon Sworn
“Fine, I’ll procure the caffeine.”
Kastros signs,I’ll make everyone sandwiches for the road.
“Um, about that. We’re going to have to fly. I left the van behind,” Van says.
Raz rolls his eyes. “Flying is the surest way for us to get caught. We need to creep in like humans. I’ll take care of the ride.”
“And…break!” Akor throws an arm out in front of him, like this is some football huddle or something and he’s waiting for them to put their hands in the middle. Everyone else just stares at him for a beat before a gust of wind follows the flapping of their wings as they all head off to complete their tasks.
* * *
Never leta pain demon bathe you.
Akor’s idea of a pleasant scrub and mine are as far apart as spray cheese and brie. He thinks that a good scrubby scratch with his claws is refreshing. It did wake me the fuck up. But I prefer not to have my skin literally turn pink from rake marks. Don’t get me wrong. I love a good hot shower, but he unintentionally makes my skin raw enough that it feels like I’m showering with a horrible, bright red sunburn.
I rush the process as much as possible, and after I get out, I toss my hair up in a ponytail and put on my underthings before I search my room for a badass, angel-intimidating outfit, but the best I can find is a short black leather skirt. I hurry, snagging a black T-shirt from my drawer. When I slide it on, I realize it says, “Who needs brains when they’ve got these?” across the chest. I facepalm when Akor snickers.
“This is Stacy’s shirt!” I say to defend myself and start to pull it off.
“Sorry, Cherry, we’re out of time.” Akor shoves a pair of socks and high leather boots my way before scooping me up and running through the hall. We leave through the backdoor to avoid a midnight howl fest from our menagerie, and he yanks open the gate one-handed, using the other hand to grope my ass.
All the other guys wait outside…in front of a black, gleaming, SUV limo.
Raz leans against the grill, playing with a set of keys. His eyes zero in on me as Akor sets me down. At first, the nightmare demon frowns at my bare feet, but when he reads my shirt, even my normally grumpy mate can’t hold back a grin. His eyebrows ruck up in amusement for a second before he returns to his normal, business-as-usual scowl. “Get in,” he orders.
“You bought a limo!” I exclaim, unable to stop myself from fangirling for a millisecond over the gorgeous car.
“Borrowed,” he corrects me. “We need something that can fit all of us.”
“And fit toys!” Akor singsongs. “I squished Bazooka Joe into the trunk.”
I don’t ask if Bazooka Joe is a real rocket launcher, because if I learned anything from my parents, it’s that plausible deniability is damn useful.
I shake my head and finger, scolding Raz for stealing, but only half-heartedly, as I let Zolroth pull me up into the limo and onto his lap. Apparently, my guys think I’m incapable of sitting on leather seats on my own. But, honestly? I don’t mind. He latches his arms around my waist as Akor grumbles that he wanted to hold me and climbs in behind me. Kastros is seated near the front, still hunched, as if he’s trying to stay as far from me as possible. Next to him is a cloth grocery bag full of sandwiches.
“Bean water, love?” Zolroth pulls my attention away from my vengeance demon by offering me a mug of liquid energy. I eagerly lose myself in drinking it for a minute as we get moving, trying not to let any other thoughts or emotions penetrate. When I finish the last drop, I lower the mug and meet Van’s gorgeous eyes.
“What’s our plan?”
“Sneak in. Let Akor do his thing. Then ask questions,” Van replies smoothly. The guys must have worked this stellar plan out while I was in the shower. But as much as I want answers about my parents and Adam, and I do want answers, I see a couple of flaws with this plan. Maybe coffee has done something to jumpstart my brain, because while we just discussed this ten minutes ago, suddenly, I’m rethinking everything.
“So, what happened to the ‘angels can’t lie’ thing?” I ask. Yes, I’m inarticulate right now. I’d probably need a mainline injection of coffee in order to sound semi-intelligent. But my emotions are less of a mess, temporarily I’m sure. The reprieve, however, has made me feel suddenly quite icky about what we’re about to do. And I’m not talking kids’ slime icky. I’m talking puke splatter icky. Should Akor really be unleashed on angels who told us they had nothing to do with us?
“They’re the only lead we’ve got,” Van tells me.
“So we’re going to torture angels who are very likely innocent, because we don’t have any better ideas? Since when does torture make people tell you the truth instead of what you want to hear?”
“I don’t know if I like your tone about torture,” Akor says, pouting.
I ignore him, instead leaning forward and saying, “Kastros.”
The big demon was staring morosely out the window, but he turns his deep brown eyes towards me when I say his name, and his intensity sends a shiver spiraling right down my spine. I have this gut feeling that as the former murder leader, he’s still got sway. If he agrees with me, I hope that the others will follow suit. I lift my hands and sign to him,Isn’t this a bad idea?
He looks shocked that I lobbed a question his way. His thick black eyebrows shoot up, and he takes a long minute before he raises his hands and starts to sign back to me.Your parents disappeared. Someone was able to impersonate them. This person clearly had magic. They’re the only ones in the area with magic that powerful.
No, I counter, my fingers jabbing forcefully,they aren’t. You guys never figured out who was going after you, so maybe there is someone else, someone secret.
Van interjects from where he sits on the long bench seat on my right side, “Look, Trina, time is of the essence. Adam’s out there—”
