“Don’t do that,” he warned. “It will make me angry, and you won’t like me angry. Well… I suppose you’re not going to like me at all, are you?”
He grinned, as if the thought pleased him.
“I can—”
The ground rumbled beneath my feet. My knees nearly buckled as I fought to keep my balance and glanced behind me. The tremors came from the castle.
A tower cracked, scattering dust and shards of stone, as it toppled over. Loud pops and groans followed as the structure crumbled, making my heart pound with worry.
“Did you do that?” I asked. “You—”
The Devil latched onto my wrist, silencing me with his fevered, unnatural grip as he pulled me behind him.
“What?” I glared at his back. Then I saw the flame-haired, pale creature standing across from us.
Harvest?
How did he escape Nova’s imprisonment? Did he cause the explosion instead of the Devil?
I liked my immortality, but I hated dealing with other immortals.
As the two faced off, silently observing one another, I yanked my arm from the Devil’s grip.
I couldn’t see his expression, but I heard him say, “You’ve been busy.”
“Helping you,” Harvest replied.
I scoffed.
“Indeed, you have,” the Devil said.
Harvest glanced at me. “How about I dispose of the Reaper behind you while she’s mortal? Or do you plan to do it yourself?”
The wicked glint in his eyes made me tense. It didn’t seem wise to taunt his creator. But what did I know?
Yikes.
I forgot I could die.
The moment Harvest’s words registered in my thick skull, I bolted.
I’m still mortal.
He was going to hurt me to get back at his creator, which felt ridiculous. The Devil might kill me just out of spite for everyone assuming he cared.
The reality?
The curse he placed on me as a baby cursed him, too.
I was all too human for my liking..Killable. Disposable. He could rid himself of me and go back to world domination like none of this mattered.
Two minutes. That was how long I thought I had.
But before I could make it too far, a giant arm wrapped around my middle and pulled me back.
My spine smacked into an overly warm chest.
“What are you doing?” I complained, slapping his arm and catching a strong whiff of something that smelled like burnt marshmallows.
