It wasn’t enough that every time I looked in the mirror, I was reminded of him. No, now I had to hear his name everywhere I went. “Headmaster Hart this and Headmaster Hart that.” I’m pretty sure I overheard some girls giggling at what a D.I.L.F. he is and how they’d happily suck him off under his desk. My entire body shivers in repulsion at the thought.
I swear to fuck, if I ever get married, I’m taking my wife’s last name. Walker Knox has a good ring to it.
The thought of Salem reigns in my anger. I’m looking forward to getting home to her after this shitty ass day. I don’t know how I’m supposed to make it the rest of the year with my father as headmaster. I’m barely holding on as it is.
My phone goes off and I see a message from Salem telling me that Emmet is back. All that anger that I’d just managed to suppress comes flooding back, filling up every cell of my body.
Fucking hell.
Wrath spills out of me as I walk through the campus. A fight breaks out to my left. Blood sprays out of some guy’s nose as he gets pummeled by Jenna Hinks, the sorority president and Sloan’s perpetual groupie that he has no interest in. I take off into a jog, hoping to get far enough away that it doesn’t hit too many people. I knew all too well how consuming blind rage could be.
Through the last two years of being possessed with this leech of a demon, I’ve tried my best to not turn into my father. His was a constant voice in my head, much like the demon that wanted to use my skin like a flesh puppet.
I use all my willpower to tamper my emotions down, breaking into a sweat as I run. This feels infinitely harder than it was in the past. I wonder if Salem did something that day that caused these demons to gain some sort of strength.
“Hey!” A voice calls out from behind me. “Walker!” I turn and catch a woman in her mid-thirties carrying a bag full of books.
“Do I know you?”
“I’m a shop owner in town. My name’s Madame Leroux. I saw Salem earlier but didn’t get a chance to give her these. It’s important.”
I grab the bag with a frown and look down. Titles likeOccultism,Hell and its Gates,A History of Possession, jump out at me.
“Uh… thank-” I go to say, but when I look up, she’s gone, and I’m left with a tote bag full of books. The fuck was that?
When I arrive, Skye and Salem are making food in the kitchen with Graham. Salem looks like her idea of helping is being the taste tester. She sits perched on a bar stool to the side with a bowl of olives that she’s snacking on and a bottle neck beer in her hand.
I give her a quick kiss on the lips. She tastes like a mix between pimento olives and beer.
“What are you all making?” I ask, setting the books down on the counter.
“Feta and lemon fettuccini, with olives.” Skye answers, stirring a bowl of noodles.
“It won’t be made with olives, if you keep eating them.” Graham answers with his hands on his hips.
“But I like putting them on my fingers and pretending I’m an alien.” Salem holds up her hand with tiny green olives shoved onto the tips.
“How many of these have you had?” I ask, grabbing the beer from her and taking a sip.
“Hey! That’s mine.” She says, attempting to stand and swipe the bottle back. She grabs at it with her olive clad fingers and misses. She points one of the olives at me and I bend down and suck it off her hand.
“That’s mine, too!” She gasps.
“You want it back?” I ask, holding the olive in between my teeth.
“No, now it has Walker germs on it.”
“Don’t pretend that you don’t love my germs.” I bend down and kiss her pushing the olive straight into her mouth.
“Ugh, get a room,” Graham yells, “and leave my olives alone!”
“Come on, why don’t we go to your room.” I say, putting the beer bottle down and grabbing the bag full of books.
She follows me, eating an olive off her finger leaving three to wave at Graham as we pass by.
“What’s this.” She asks, pointing at the bag once we’re in her room.
“Someone named Madame Leroux chased me down. Said she didn’t get a chance to give them to you earlier?”
