And I’m not sure I want it to.
Chapter 38
Royal
The motel room is too quiet.
Too dim.
Too damn close.
A cracked lampshade gives off a weak jaundiced glow, flickering over threadbare carpet and cigarette burns that look like a crime scene no one bothered to tape off.The curtains breathe with the AC unit like the room itself is watching.
Behind me, Becki rustles through the cheap plastic bag from the corner store, the one with the flickering fluorescent tubes and the clerk who eyeballed her like she was for sale.I almost broke his jaw.Should’ve.
I sit at the tiny table by the window, old news clippings on my screen.Missing persons’ reports.Revival circuits tied to unexplained vanishings.
The Demon Leaper.
I should laugh at the name.I don’t.Not after hearing something on that rooftop.Not after the claw marks in the basement.
Not with Becki sleeping three feet away, in the other bed, so I don’t touch her and seal my fate.Not with her gasping from nightmares that sound too much like my own.Visions that have leathery wings and talons.
Another article.Another screenshot.Another girl the world forgot.
Something’s hunting.
Or someone wearing a myth like a mask.
“Royal?”Becki’s voice breaks the silence.
I glance up.
She’s standing by the dresser, fingers curled in the hem of her shirt.There’s a blood smear near her hip from where her wrist leaks.Her eyes look tired.Her skin too pale.But she’s still defiant enough to ruin me.
“I need to change,” she says.
I nod, but I don’t turn around.
I should.
I don’t.
She pulls the tank top over her head, slow, unhurried, like she wants me to see how much she ain’t afraid.The lamplight catches the curve of her bare back, the black strap of her new bra, the way her spine dips just before meeting her waistband.The bandage there and under it my name claim carved into her flesh.
My grip tightens around my phone until it creaks.
She slips into a fresh shirt, says, Kentucky Derby Queen, pink glitter purposely faded.Should look ridiculous.Instead it punches the air from my lungs.
“You gonna keep ogling,” she says, crossing her arms.“Or are we planning how to kill a demon tonight?”
“Not killing anything until we understand it.”
“Then what do you call that thing on the roof?”she pushes.
“An evil man,” I snap.“Or something that learned how to scare people with one.”
Her expression flickers.She sits on the edge of the bed, one knee tucked under her, lips tight.
