Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“I haven’t gotten that far ahead, but it’ll be my turn for being out for blood.” She laughs and then looks horrified she said that out loud. “I mean, I’m going to volunteer at a nursing home.”
“Please don’t.”
“You can name your price I just can’t go back to being a slave.”
Demons say all sorts of shit to get under your skin. I’m not giving her an ounce of sympathy until I can talk to Lucifer and find out what the fuck she’s talking about. He said the demon from last night was old and powerful, with a high ranking amongst the others.
Which mean this demon can pull some weight.
“What is your name?” I ask, expecting her to hesitate. It’s always like the fucking Rumpelstilskin principle with demons. They never want to give up their true name or reveal their sigils. Because with that comes power to use against them.
“Or’dreaxth,” she tells me. “But call me Drea. It sounds cool, right?”
It kinda does, but I won’t admit it. “Whatever, Drea. I will be at the Taproom ten minutes before opening. And I cannot promise I won’t reach inside and pull your spine out of your ass—” I cut off when a customer walking to the bathroom gives me a concerned side-eye.
“You really are into ass-play, aren’t you?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I say calmly. “Now let the waitress go.”
“Toodles.” She wiggles her fingers and the drops down to her knees, leaving the waitress’s body in a rush of dark smoke.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask, quickly helping the waitress to her feet. She wobbles as she stands, blinking rapidly. “You tripped.”
“Oh, yeah, I did.”
She was only possessed for a few minutes and might remember parts of our conversation later, but it will all seem too odd for her to put any stock into.
“Sorry,” she says, thinking she bumped into me.
“It’s okay. Just glad you didn’t get hurt.”
She looks at me, confused, and then walks away. I hurry back to the table and take Juliet from Abby. She’s wide awake now and is, of course, hungry.
“What the hell is going on?” Abby asks as soon as I sit down and situate Juliet to nurse. “You looked scary-angry.”
“I did?” I shouldn’t find any satisfaction with that, but I do. If I really wanted to intimidate Drea, I would have donned my hellfire crown. But the less who know about that the better, and I’m kind of in the middle of a restaurant. “I mean, yeah. I was. She interrupted lunch. How rude, right?”
“Yeah. Rude. What did she want?”
“What’s that saying? The enemy of my enemy is my friend? Yeah, she wants that motherfucker Paimon dead too.”
“Modder-fucker,” Penny repeats, looking up from the phone for the first time since we sat down.
“Shit, I mean, crap, sorry.” I wince. “I keep forgetting she can talk.”
Abby laughs but her eyes hold back fear. “And Paimon is the demon that you trapped during your baby shower when you went to Hell with Julian?”
Hearing his name is like an instant knife to the heart. I wish he were here. Things might not have gotten so bad if I’d had him with me, helping me with this whole mess. “Yeah. He’s been able to astral project out. That’s how he…how he killed Julian.”
“Who died?” Ricci comes back to the table.
“My favorite character in a book series I’m reading,” Abby answers.
“Ohh is it a spicy book?” Ricci waves down the waitress who had just played host to the demon Drea. It is a cool name, but I’ll be damned before I admit it to her. \
“Um kind of,” Abby says. “It’s a love story set in the zombie apocalypse.”
“Hmm, interesting. You know what else is interesting? The tea that was just spilled.” She raises her eyebrows. “Coach Mar was caught under the bleachers with a senor!”
I have no idea who the fuck she’s talking about, but for the first—and probably only time—I’m thankful for her incessant gossiping. I look at Abby and give her a tiny nod, trying to convey that things will be okay. She gets my silent message and relaxes a bit, tearing a baguette apart for Penny. Our food comes while Ricci is still painting a very detailed picture of exactly what position Coach Mar was found in, and we make it the rest of lunch without anymore demonic interruptions.
Penny is in full meltdown mode by the end of lunch, and since the sun is out, we back to Abby’s house so Penny can toddle around the yard while we sit and talk.
“Here,” Abby says, folding a thick comforter in half before spreading it on the grass in the shade so I can lay Juliet down and stretch out myself.
“Thanks.”
“So, I’m kinda scared to ask, but are things okay?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, not even feeling bad for lying this time. If anything, I’m doing her a kindness, right? Why scare her with things she cannot control? “I mean, considering.”