It’s a miracle I haven’t snapped her neck. Satan for-fucking-bid she gets stuck here too.
Sable stormed out not too long ago, but I didn’t have any desire to follow her—but now I’m uncomfortable because she left me here with these imbeciles and I haven’t seen her in longer than I like, and because this human equivalent of a fly just rested her hand in my lap. My gaze snaps to her face in a glare to find her grinning at me.
Technically, I could kill her in front of all these witnesses and no one could do shit, since I’m already dead and all.
“Who said you could touch me?” I narrow my eyes to slits. The tone is filled with a threat.Do it again and there will be consequences.
The smile drops from her face, and her hand retracts so fast, I’m surprised she doesn’t pull a muscle.
Good. At least she’s not stupid.
Now where the fuck is Sable?
My vision flashes as someone holds up a little contraption. People are posing, grinning at the thing, and I frown in confusion before another flash goes off. Everyone crowds around the girl and stares at something.
“My face looks weird in that photo.”
“Mine too.”
“Evelyn, your eyes are closed.”
“Another!”
For the next ten minutes, I push for information on what the fuck is going on. A guy who reminds me a little of Tony is so drunk he doesn’t even realize how differently we’re dressed. They’re all wearing garments I’ve seen Tony and some souls I’ve tortured wear, but even then, they have more skin showing than what I’m used to.
“What’s your name, cutie?”
I turn to see a dark-haired girl staring at me, batting her bloodshot eyes at me. She’s either been crying or she’s too drunk to even see properly.
“John,” I lie.
She hums. “That’s a nice name. I could make a lot of noise with that.”
Someone take me back to Hell.
No, thisisHell.
The girl is staring at me expectantly. I quirk a brow. “Are you waiting for an invitation to suck my dick or something?” Not that she’d ever receive one.
She licks her lips. “Maybe.”
“Not happening,” I reply sternly, my gaze drifting away so she knows it’s final.
Three seconds go by before she huffs and leaves.
I’ve come to learn that photographs can be taken on a little box, with a screen, and they all seem to have one. I heard one guy ask someone where his phone was before he proceeded to grab another small box from the window seat.
Strange. Strange creatures.
Another box plays music—the ungodly noise alone is enough to blow my eardrums, never mind their endless chatter with slang I’ve never heard before.
A girl’s voice echoes around the room. Someone yells how much they love this song. The words irk me. If I hear people scream “call me maybe” one more time, I may need to incinerate this entire building to save my eardrums.
I feel old.
I still haven’t asked Sable what year it is. As time passes so differently in Hell, it’s impossible to figure out. A hundred years could’ve passed up here. Or more. And if that’s the case, then my brother will already be dead.
A fist twists around my heart and squeezes at the thought.
