Rogan releases an annoyed grunt, and I shoot him a look that saysif you snooze, you lose.
“You file a complaint, and it gets investigated,” Muda tells him simply.
I snort out an incredulous laugh, unable to stop myself. If I didn’t think this smooth-talking half demon was such a douche, I’d offer him agood onewith that joke. Muda looks over at me, his eyebrow twitching up in a way that tells me he’s back to being unimpressed.
“Wait. Really? That’s not your idea of a joke?” I question, now confused and unsure.
“Do I look like the type to jest?” he asks haughtily, and I shoot him a look that sayswell, I think you’re a joke, does that count?“There are protocols in place, and technology speeds up the process. My job as Linker is to facilitate a satisfactory outcome for all sides,” he declares, as though he’s reading lines for a badly written and over-acted play.
I look at Rogan likethis dude can’t be serious, right?I was fully expecting to leave here with vague instructions on how to summon Jamie’s demon so that we could try to kill it. I didn’t even think we’d get a solid lead on how to kill the fucker, but that didn’t mean we weren’t going to give it our best shot. Now this uppity bunghole is sitting here telling us, if we file a complaint, the demon police will take care of the problem?
This all feels way too easy, which makes me wonder if this is all some kind of trap. Subtly I start looking around for some sign that a full-blooded demon is lurking in the back room or behind some secret door that leads to a lair below us or something. All I see is books and antiques though.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” I declare, deciding if this is a trap, it’s better to spring it now. I wasn’t kidding when I told Muda that we have nothing to lose by going head-to-head with him. “I would like to file a formal complaint,” I state firmly, and then suddenly there’s a sickening familiar feeling in my gut, and I can feel that I’m being yanked somewhere else.
Son of a bitch.
My panicked eyes meet Rogan’s for all of a split second before I’m torn away. Desolation rips through me from the tether, and I can hear Rogan’s shouted, “Nooo!” like an echo in my mind as everything around me tilts and blurs.
The sensation of falling overwhelms my senses, and then all at once it stops. Terror crawls up my throat, burning as it rises and robbing me of air. A feral scream sounds off all around me, and it takes me a second to realize it’s coming from me. My feet hit solid ground again, but my surroundings are fuzzy, and I scramble back, scared to death that at any moment, I’m going to slam up against a cold stone wall, and then I’ll blink and be back inside that horrific church again.
“No, not again. Please, not again,” I whimper.
My heart races so fast it feels like it’s going to explode, and my body shakes from the overload of adrenaline and dread.
Stupid. I’m so fucking stupid! How is this happening to me again?
I try to tamp down on the self-recrimination so I can focus on wherever this asshole has taken me. I ignore the helplessness I feel, knowing my body will survive another death—Elon is proof of that. I just wish I knew that my mind could withstand another torturous round with the demon and whoever it’s possessing. I clamp my mouth closed, and the fearful keening stops. I can break out of this cage, I know I can, I just need to find something to cut my hand open with. I need to bleed.
Why the hell did I trust a demon? I walked right into his home, knowing what he was, and now I’m going to pay the price for that stupidity.
My eyes dart frantically around at my feet, searching when a firm hand grips my elbow. Panicked, I shove every ounce of magic I can at whoever it is. The power slams up against a strong barrier, but I’m too scared and desperate to be deterred, so instead of trying to crash through the barriers, I wrap my will around the protective shell entirely and then shove it and the person inside of it away. I look over in time to see Muda go flying across what now looks like a lobby, and slam hard into a secretary’s desk. The female sitting at the sleek setup screams in shock before Muda’s body hits her and they both go crashing to the ground.
I stare confused, panting through my panic as a room starts to take shape all around me. Sunlight streams through the walls of windows surrounding me, and I get the distinct impression I’m in a high-rise building. Large, framed artwork decorates the walls, but the images are demonic and gory. Large potted plants take up the corners, and I swear one of them looks like it’s eating a bird. A massive dark blue couch sits in what looks like a waiting area, the color of the sofa so rich that I feel like I’m staring into the depths of space directly. The room is frigid, luxuriously decorated, and definitely not the church that haunts me more than I wish it did.
Oh god, please don’t let this place be worse.
Muda’s mussed up black hair pops up on the other side of the secretary’s desk first. He shoots me a scathing look as he scrambles to his feet, and a sheepish realization laps at me. Out of nowhere, a large boom tears through the room, and just when I think I have a grip on my fright, a pair of arched bone-white doors are thrown open and a massive demon stomps out of them.
“What the fuck is going on out here?” it snarls, leveling the entire room with a black glare that makes my blood run cold and my skin prickle with the need to get the hell out of here. “Visha, you know I like to rest my eyes for at least twenty minutes after the masseuse has left. Are you trying to get gutted?” the demon roars, and I flinch from the overwhelming sound of it.
The demon’s eyes snap from where Muda and the secretary are scrambling to get back on their feet to me. I stare into enraged black eyes set in a blood red face. The shape of its nose and mouth are eerily animalistic, like it’s a lycan whose face is trapped mid-shift. A black crown sits on the demon’s head, but as I look at it, I realize they’re actually horns that form the shape of a crown. Shoulder-length wavy black hair touches the fabric of an ornate and over-the-top looking suit. I can’t tell if that’s a uniform of some sort or if it hired Michael Jackson’s stylist after the singer died. Four arms, each bent at the elbow, rest on its waist, the posture clearly communicating annoyance, and I try not to stare at them. I’m tempted to think of the demon as ahe,but there’s an androgyny about the being, that makes me unsure either way.
Black eyes take me in with the same level of scrutiny that I was just using, and I feel my magic rise in response.
“Mmmm, as tempting as that show of power is, put your magic away, butterfly. You don’t see me walking into your place of business and whipping my dicks out for all to see,” the demon commands, its tone even and all at once unbothered.
Dicks?
I’m not at all sure how those things are the same, but I pull back on my magic anyway, surprisingly no longer feeling threatened or under attack.
“My apologies, Sire. I’ve brought Osteomancer Osseous here to lodge a formal complaint. She caught me by surprise; it won’t happen again,” Muda rushes to explain, a simpering smile on his face, while he throws me a glare that saysthis better not happen again.
“It sure as hell will if you think you can just yank me around without so much as a heads-up. Priggish demon or not, ask politely next time and maybe you won’t get your ass tossed across the room,” I snap at the Linker, who simply rolls his eyes like my feelings on the matter are nothing more than an inconvenience to him.
I wonder if his boss would let me get away with tossing him around just one more time.
I eye the other demon speculatively and decide against it. It’sverytempting though, but I need to ignore the two demons for a moment, now that the immediate danger has passed, and focus on my connection with Rogan and the bombardment of panic, fear, and rage flowing from him to me. I send a wave of calm, comfort, and safety, and am immediately hit with a ripple of relief and promised retribution.
