Page 27 of Demon Sworn
The phone in my hand clatters onto the counter. Kastros, who was standing on the other side of the room, walks over and picks it up, glancing at the screen. When he sees William’s name, his hand tightens of the phone as if he wants to snap it in half
“Don’t you dare break it,” I tell him, snatching it back. “The guys might have info and call.”
“Katrina? Hello? Hello?”
I ignore William’s voice as I punish Kastros with my most withering glare. Instead of glaring back at me, he walks over to his seat, grabs his plate where he set it down on the ground, and then comes back, sliding it across the counter. I realize that the only cookies left are frosted sugar cookies.
He saved them for me.
Dammit! Ire rises up in me. How dare he be sweet! How dare he act jealous! How dare he hang his head guiltily! How dare he walk out of the kitchen and try to escape my cold gaze!
It’s not until he’s gone down the hall, probably to find Akor, and Joy has frozen in the middle of rolling out another batch of gingerbread cookies to stare at me that I put the phone back to my ear. I do it mainly as an excuse not to have to explain my messed-up relationship to Joy, who’s already talked about how perfect her demons are.
Mine are far from perfect.
Or at least that one is.
“What do you want?” I end up taking my frustration out on William—my tone is sharper than I would’ve liked it to be. But I don’t apologize. I’m too stressed right now. In fact… I grab myself another sugar cookie—yes from Kastros’s plate, shut up—then I head to the far corner of the kitchen to get a tiny bit of privacy to talk to the guy I used to have a crush on.
“I wanted to check on you.” His tone is gentle with just a hint of sultry.
A few months ago, that phrase from William’s lips would have made me weak at the knees. Now? Nothing. The fire’s out, and there’s nothing but ash in the fireplace that irritates your lungs when you get too close. I need to brick this fireplace up. For good.
“William, we aren’t friends.”
“I know, we’re more than that.”
Oh no. Delusion for one coming right up. Seriously? God is shoving this at me right now? On top of my parents and Adam and all that other bullshit? I flip the bird at the ceiling, hoping somehow, God can see it.
“We are?” I ask, rudely chomping on my cookie and chewing loudly. “Then what’s my favorite romantic movie?”
“That Hemsworth one.”
“Nope.”Van knows,I think as I chew.Because Van actually cares about me.“Cut the bull and tell me what you really want because I’m waiting for an important call.”
“I need to see you.”
“No.”
“But—”
“I’m busy.” I hang up on him and shake my head as I bite off a reindeer leg aggressively.
Joy pats her countertop, creating a little cloud of flour dust. “Come on over and tell me about it. Maybe I can help.”
But my throat closes up, and suddenly, all I want is to curl up in bed. All the energy and adrenaline I’ve been running on are fading quickly. “I just need to go home,” I tell her, leaning against the wall because my legs have decided to grow weak.
Her face softens in sympathy, and she rubs her hands onto the apron she wears, smoothing it over her giant belly. “Let me go get your guys.”
Just then, a little girl runs into the room. She’s younger than Adam, has more of that baby pudge to her figure. She’s got Joy’s gorgeous blonde hair and a big gap between her front teeth. She giggles wildly. “Mommy! Guess what! The fart machine worked! Daddy Dem gave me the controller, and I pressed it and tricked Mittens!”
It’s too much. Seeing a happy little girl, just bubbling over with joy… I can’t.
I bolt from the room and down a long hallway, trying to outrun the tears that are chasing me. Every footfall creates a pattern. Dum. Dum. Dum. Adam. Adam. Adam.
I don’t think I can handle this gaping black hole inside of me. I yank at the double doors in front of me, not paying much attention to where I’m headed. When I step through the doors, I realize I’ve entered the workshop. But it’s nothing like all the Christmas movies I’ve watched. There are tables on the ground yes, and stations for toy trains and bikes and all that, but there are also tables floating in rows above my head. And tons of elves, I mean cupids, I mean cherubs—Dammit! They’re everywhere, whistling while they work.
For a second, I’m stunned out of my panic attack by just how frickin’ much it is to take in. There’s just so much stuff everywhere. Like, if there was a supernatural version ofHoarders, but the hoarders were really clean and organized and thorough about it…maybe it’s more like those coupon clippers. The people who store up vast amounts of useless items just because their double coupon meant they got it free. Yeah, when I see a row full of hundreds of rubber chickens and whoopie cushions, I decide it’s like coupon clippers.
