“Shit,” I groan, wipin’ a hand down my face. “What did I do?”
“Well…”
I level him with a look. “Tell me.”
“That stick you tripped over? It was your scythe.”
A line forms between my brows as I frown. “My scythe? I don’t know what the hell you mean. I told you, that stick was there when I got here. I just tripped over it and cut my foot.”
“Similar thing happened to Delta,” Flint tells me. “When she was called to the Hellgate, she found herself a scythe too.”
I shake my head. “I know what a damn scythe looks like, and that thing wasn’t a scythe. It was just a damn fancy lookin’ stick!” I argue a little hysterically.
“It changed,” Flint says with a careless shrug.
Who the hell shrugs carelessly at a time like this?A demon, that’s who.
“Itchanged? What the hell do you mean?”
“During your episode,” he answers smoothly. “Blades popped out and everything, just like with Delta. That’s when Alder and I knew for sure that you were like her.”
I gape at them, tryin’ to picture an image of me wieldin’ that stick as it magically turned into a scythe. “Did I hurt anybody with it? I mean, besides Mickey?”
“No,” they both answer quickly.
I hiss in a breath. “For the love of peaches, I did! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because we figured you’d respond like this,” Alder declares, gesturin’ to me and the freak out etched in my features as it simmers in my blood. “Besides, it’s okay. The others were just imps.”
“I don’t know what imps are!” I snap.
“Imps are punished souls who did very bad things while they were alive and have to make up for it by serving,” Alder tells me calmly.
My mind chews on that. “Like murderers and rapists? That sort of thing?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Oh. Well...alright then.”
Flint snorts. “I love how on board you are with all of this. Way better than Delta. From what Jerif said, she was a hot mess. Up top!” he says, holdin’ up a fist for me to bump.
I tap my fist at him, lip twitchin’. I shouldn’t feel smug at the expense of demon Delta, but I do. Clearly, I’m made of much sterner stuff.
“Where is your scythe, anyway?” Flints asks.
I scrunch up my face in thought. “I don’t know. Didn’t I leave it here?”
They look at me, horrified. “No, you most certainly did not leave it here,” Flint says, lookin’ at me like I’m crazy. “Please don’t tell me you lost an incredibly powerful Hell weapon,” he grumbles.
“Hey, I thought it was a damn broken fancy broom handle!” I counter. Then a lightbulb goes off. “Oh, I remember, it’s at home. It was…” I trail off, recallin’ that I woke up the next mornin’ with it in bed next to me. “It’s in my room,” I finish lamely. They don’t need to hear about me damn near cuddlin’ the thing.
“You need to keep that with you,” Flint admonishes.
I scoff. “Oh sure, I’ll just take it with me to the corner store or the next time I go to the club. I’m sure the bouncers won’t even bat an eye,” I say sarcastically.
“Peaches, you need to take this a bit more seriously—”
“Ineed to take this more seriously?” I demand, repeatin’ his accusation—which is never a good thing for a woman to do in a conversation. “Just exactly what would you have me do differently? Control the uncontrollable andnotblack out? Wake up just knowin’ what I am and how this all works? I didn’t know it was a demon Hell scythe!”
