“I told you to grab an umbrella,” Rogan reminds him, and Marx grunts in response.
“The app said it wasn’t going to be raining,” Marx defends.
“It’s Glasgow, it’s pretty much always raining at some point in the day. Should have listened,” Elon teases as he holds his own umbrella over him and Prek.
“Maybe he’s not home?” Elon observes as Prek buzzes for a third time.
“He’s home, he just hates company. He’ll give in eventually,” Prek reassures us, but I don’t feel reassured barging in on a mancer who clearly doesn’t want to be disturbed.
If I weren’t at a loss for what else to do about the demon situation, I’d tell everyone to let the poor guy be. Unfortunately, this is our one and only lead.
“He’s cagey, but this is his job. He just likes to make it clear who’s boss before he lets anyone in. It’s a power trip,” Prek explains, not at all fussed by the fact that we’re being ignored by whoever this Mr. Muda is.
Prek explained last night about his first assignment with the Order and how they were tasked with hunting down a demon who was killing affluent mancers in the business district. Prek was on research and paperwork, which is how he ended up learning about Mr. Muda and speaking to him for the first time.
Turns out that the head of an elite family was trying to take out his competition. He was discovered and purged, and the demon was given what he was promised in the contract and sent back to his realm. It all sounded pretty cut and dry until Prek told me that what was promised in the contract was every single one of the Contegomancer’s children.
I had gaped at him for a solid minute when he revealed that little tidbit. I also learned that, in the eyes of witch law, if you are under the age of fifteen, you are technically considered property of your parents. As property, you can be traded or sold to anyone, including a demon, in exchange for whatever you want.
I had no idea the rules were that archaic. It still makes me queasy and mad. Apparently, there are lots of loopholes too in the witching world for owning another magic user. Like, for example, forcing someone to become a familiar. While illegal and a prosecutory offence, if you can hide it for five years, you’re then home free, because that’s the statute of limitations for that particular crime. I might have given Rogan a dead arm when I learned that. I now have every intention of going home and studying the laws, just to be sure I can protect myself in this messed up culture I’m now forever a part of.
Prek buzzes again, and just when I blow out a forlorn sigh, Beast, fromBeauty and the Beast, snarls a “what!” in that deep, dark, rich way that he does.
A shiver works its way up my back, but not from fear; that damn voice is the stuff of many a red-blooded woman’s fantasies, and I’m not ashamed to say I’m one of them. Disney freaking knew what they were doing when they cast that voice.
“Circummancer Orson, Phonomancer Bevit, Osteomancer Kendrick, Hemamancer Kendrick, and Osteomancer Osseous request a formal visit with the Linker,” Prek states firmly, and the speaker goes silent.
I try not to fidget as I wait to see what happens now, but a higher pitched buzzing starts, and Prek reaches for the handle of the door and pulls it open. I guess that’s a good sign. Prek does the hand motion that signals the rest of us should go in before him. The guys all look at me in thatladies firstkind of way, but I swear they’re just hoping this guy will be less likely to yell at me than he is at them. Jokes on them though: the Beast always sounded the hottest when he was being all grumpy and bossy, so I’m here for it.
There’s only a set of large red double doors in front of us, so I make my way toward them. Just as I get close, one side opens and a very tall, well-defined man stares down at me. From the minute my toffee-colored eyes connect with his silver ones, dread starts to hammer in my chest. I don’t know how I know or why Prek would have failed to inform us, but I’m staring into the eyes of a fucking demon, and he looks like he’s ready to eat us for lunch.
13
“What the fuck?” Elon growls from behind me, and the entire atmosphere changes in a breath.
Tension skates across my skin as Rogan’s consternation and distress bloom in my chest. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he can feel my panic. Every single one of us calls on our magic, and I can instantly feel the protections on this demon are strong as fuck.
“I see you’ve had some recent dealings with my kind,” the demon says indifferently, not at all bothered by the fact that each of us is intent on destroying him. “I suppose I should sayhalfof my kind since I’m not apure blood demon. Wouldn’t want the higher-ups to hear word that I was claiming to be ontheirlevel.”
Uneasy mumbles sound off behind me, and I can feel alarm skittering through the atmosphere like roaches trying to escape light. The demon rolls his silver eyes at the shocked reaction, but the gesture looks odd as his entire eye is silver. There’s no distinguishable pupil, nothing that separates an iris from the cornea. Nope, there’s only silver, which is framed by long black lashes, coppery brown skin, straight black hair that’s longer than mine, luscious lips, and a voice that I’m certain melts the underwear off both women and men in equal measure.
He leans against the frame of the door, his silk robe-slash-smoking-jacket top draping open to show his muscular chest and washboard abs. A delicious V of muscle dips down into a pair of ripped up skinny jeans. He stands there staring at me, bare foot tapping impatiently.
“What?” I ask confused, thrown off by the blasé attitude and the fact that this demon isn’t trying to kill us.
“Just the looks then, huh?” he counters, his face radiating faux pity. “I was hoping there was a brain accompanying that gorgeous hair and that sinful face. Better luck next time, I suppose.”
“Did you just call me stupid?” I demand, taken aback.
What the hell is going on right now?
Rogan growls, like he’s ready to intervene with his fists, but the demon ignores him.
“Doll, you’re going to have to catch up quicker than that, or this is going to be a long ass evening. I have a waxing appointment at nine p.m. sharp that I will be attending with or without you here. So, let’s get it together, mmmkay?”
He turns to walk back into his flat, and I stare after him, dumbfounded.
Beast is a fucking prick.
