Zogar
Kestra leads me to the rooftop, and I search the crowded bar, not finding Gabreal—yet again. She sends and receives more messages on her phone, then takes me to a smoky cigar lounge. Again, he’s not there, and after consulting her phone yet again, she takes me to a place called a bowling alley. In this strange place, groups of demons are rolling large heavy balls toward wooden posts, trying to knock them over. For what purpose? Insanity.
And still, there’s no sign of Gabreal.
“Enough stalling!” I glare at Kestra. “Do you know where he is, or not?”
Putting her hands on her hips, Kestra shrugs, acting as if she’s as frustrated as I am. I don’t believe her. This is a game to her.
Her phone makes a sound, and she pulls it out to look at the screen. Her expression brightens, and she looks up toward me. “I know where he is!”
My hope rises for a split second, but then I glare. “I’ve had enough. I’m done.”
“Suit yourself.” She saunters away, her tail swaying in the opposite direction to her curvy hips.
Frowning, I follow, and she leads me into yet another elevator, where she tells me we’re headed to the screening room. I resist my urge to ask her what that means. I’ll see soon enough.
The elevator doors open to a darkened room, and heavy velvet curtains extend across the back, parted in the center to reveal an aisle sloping downward. Rows of comfortable looking chairs sit on either side of the aisle. Most are occupied, and a massive screen fills the front of the room, its proportions even bigger than the billboards I’ve seen on the street.
Projected onto the screen are images of various superi fucking—some of them viciously fucking helpless humans. The demons occupying the chairs are watching with rapt attention, many masturbating, others fucking their companions, and moans contaminate the air.
Kestra gestures toward two open seats. When I hesitate, she takes my wrist and tugs me in front of a chair that’s next to the aisle.
“Sit down!” says a demon, from one of the seats behind us.
“Fuck off.” I shake my head and glare at Kestra. “Where. Is. Gabreal?”
She gestures toward the screen.
The image has changed.
My legs give way, and I drop heavily into the chair.
Rosomon and Gabreal are filling the screen.
They’re on the rooftop of our building. My wife’s legs are shaking, and her face is flushed, almost as if she’s just had sex, but she would never?—
Would she?
Rosomon does have two lovers outside our marriage, and I’ve told her she need not be sexually faithful. Has this demon seduced my sexually curious wife?
“Do you trust me?” Gabreal asks Rosomon, and she nods.
“Tell me,” he says.
She looks up at him with so much affection and desire that my stomach turns upside down. “Youknowthat I trust you.”
“Show me,” he says. “Show me how much you trust me.”
Smiling, she nods, and her tiny perfect tongue slips out to swipe her upper lip. Her tongue barely makes an appearance, but the entire room makes sounds of interest, many leading forward in their chairs.
“She wants him,” a demon says from the back of the room.
“Can you blame her?” says another demon.
Rage and jealousy rise inside me, quickly combining into the toxic mix of betrayal. Rosomon is going to let this demonfuckher. Rosomonwantshim to fuck her. And I’m being forced to watch.
Gabreal is serving me a taste of the cruel medicine I served Saxon and Tynan.
