Who?
I picture her sweet frown as she reads my reply, the little crinkle in her brow, and her teeth nipping at her lip, and any hope of stifling the smile on my face dies.
Princess
I’m serious. I told you to leave it be!
I don’t recall agreeing to that.
Princess
And I don’t recall ever agreeing to be your girlfriend!
Guess we both have bad memories then.
Be a good girl and pay attention, baby. I hear the new guy’s not as forgiving as Argent.
“How adorable.”
Dred speaks suddenly, and I spin, finding his disembodied head hanging just over my shoulder as he peeks out from the shadows.
“Find anything?” I ask, pocketing my phone.
“I don’t know. Someone was definitely up here. But there’s no smell, only a kind of strange flavor in the air.” He smacks his tongue and makes a face. “Like fire and blood mixed together. Does that mean anything to you?”
Fire and blood? I could think of a hundred creatures that have fire in their blood. Dragon-borns, phoenixes, pyromancers. The list is endless. Unless…
“What kind of fire?” I ask, drawing a hard glare from Dred. I ignore him. I don’t have time for his irritation. “Is it sweet? Sour? Spicy? Salty? Anything?”
I go on naming every variation I can think of until Dred waves a hand and shakes his head.
“It’s like the rot. Like dirt. Or burning trees,” he explains.
“Like brimstone?” I offer.
“Yes,” he says, emerging from the shadows fully. “Exactly like brimstone.”
I clap a hand on his shoulder, too excited to mind his sensitive nature.
“What kind of creature tastes like fire, brimstone, and blood?” I ask
In a rare occurrence, Dred’s face lights up, fangs flashing as we answer in unison.
“Demons.”
Chapter18
Makes Me Wonder
IRIS
How a manso lethal can possibly be so ridiculous, I don’t know. But every time I think he can’t get any more outrageous, Elliot somehow manages to one-up himself.
From the steps of Trinity Hall, where I sit, I watch Elliot barrel through the courtyard below, barking at the crowd to move out of his way. Of course, most of them do, because who would ever dare cross Elliot Cross, but for those who don’t, he serves them a generous shoulder and a heated stare.
He’s not angry, though. I can see his tail wagging from here, so I’m not sure what to expect as he rushes up the steps, taking them in twos.
I stand on instinct, and he nearly crashes into me as he wraps his arms around my waist and lifts my feet from the floor.
