Page 13 of The Book Reader
Pulling back from the hug, I swipe at the tears running down my cheeks. I was only five when I lost them. At the time I was too young to understand what was happening. One day, I was kissing my mom goodbye when she left for work, and the next, she was gone. It took me a long time to stop crying for both her and my father at night time, for me to realize that I was never going to see them again, never going to kiss my mom or have my dad make me star shaped pancakes for breakfast. I miss them every day. I put on my brave face and smile. “Go home. I might see you in the morning, but I want to leave early.”
Kissing my check, Lucy grabs her coat and we both walk out of her office.
“If I don’t see you in the morning, drive safe and text me when you get there, okay?”
I nod and watch Lucy leave out of the side door. Walking back down the hall, I open the door to the club and grin when the music hits me. I make my way to the bar, noticing a guy who seems to have his eyes fixed on Grace. I laugh lightly and wave my hands in front of his face.
“What can I get you?”
Chapter 6
GAELAN
“Tell me everything I need to know before I rip your tongue out and feed it to one of my hellhounds.” A growl vibrates in my chest. The daemon squirms away from me, his eyes clenched shut. His mouth contorts in odd directions, mumbling words I can’t make out.
“Speak!” I bark at him, my voice deeper, using my inner daemon strength to aid my command. Trelor, my darker side, the evil I shift into when my world needs it, has been silent in my mind for a very long time.
Since we lost her again.
“My lord? I don’t know. No witches have been here since the full moons.” He is telling the truth. Scraper daemons change from their normal pink skin to purple if they are caught lying to a lord, a spell that was cast on their breed a long time again by the Devil for reasons I didn’t understand until I was much older.
No one lies to the Devil.
I lower the daemon to the ground so his feet are planted safely. His eyes snap open and the relief in them makes me chuckle darkly.
We are not done just yet.
I drag him closer to me and look down into his glowing red eyes. For a few seconds, our eyes stay locked, the blue glow of my own burning so brightly they take the shine from his until all I can see is azure.
My powers shift under my skin, electricity radiating from my body.
In my free hand, a blue bud appears, its petals pale like the sky on a hot summer day topside. It’s a bud, less potent than when this beautiful flower is in bloom. This is Irisony, a flower from the marsh lands of Illis.
At this stage, the flower can remove one’s memory; when fully developed, it can kill.
Lifting it, I hold it in front of his face and blow a puff of air over the bud, the scent of sea and lavender rises up into the air and covers him, his eyes roll back in his head before he slumps heavily in my grip.
I drop him to the ground, and he rolls forward onto his face and lets out a loud snore. He will sleep for a few hours, and when he wakes, she will not remember me being here or me asking about any witches or influential books.
Reaching into my dark blue suit jacket, I pull my phone out and dial Mark’s number. He answers after one ring.
“My lord?”
“Can you come and pick me up? I’m in an alley next door to the club you dropped me off at.”
I can hear the radio on in the background. “I am already here; you were a little longer with this one, my lord.” Mark knows me well, but this time he is wrong.
He did drop me off at the club to feed, but then I heard whispers of the Book Reader, and it led me to this alleyway. Mark has been my driver for a very long time. He came to me during some of my darkest days and has been by my side,helping to guide me from that day. My darkest times are always after I’ve lost her.
“I got distracted.”
I hang up the phone, not allowing Mark to say anything else, knowing that he will have more to say when I get into the car.
Placing the phone back in my pocket, I walk to the end of the passage and glance to the left.
Mark’s huge frame is waiting by the car; his long jet-black hair is tied in a bun that sits on the top of his head. He usually wears it loose; he must have cleaned the car. That’s the only time he ties it up.
His green eyes track my moments as I stride closer, and he opens the car door for me to climb in. The way he’s grinning at me tells me that this car ride is not going to be a peaceful one. I roll my eyes
