“How exactly did I die?” When I shake my head, he climbs next to me and gathers me in his arms. The washcloth ends up on the floor, and he tucks my head under his chin. “I promise I won't leave after you tell me.”
I pull his scent into me, letting the subtle notes soothe my inner jagged edges. I've spent so many years on the fringes of things—my community, my friend group, my family—and I'm sick of it. Being part of something more was never available to me. I tried, really tried, but I could never seem to break through. With Omen, I never feel the need to be anything other than me. And now I have to trust him, even if this is temporary. Even if the premonition is nothing more than my worst fears manifesting themselves.
I pull in a deep breath and describe what I watched in the void between worlds. With my body pressed against his, my muscles relax and the ache once battering me eases a little. Still, the pain of his death remains.I can almost smell the burning of his flesh, the sound of his screams, the bone-deep pain of losing him. I know without a doubt his death will break me. Which seems ridiculous. We're not a couple. We're not lovers, even though we've slept together. We're still trying to navigate this weird dynamic.
I'm a witch. He's a demon. There's no way for us to be anything other than what we are.
His chest vibrates under me, his shoulders shaking and I cling to him. He gasps and I squeeze my eyes shut to stem theflow of my tears. When his fingers dig into my skin, I brace myself for him to move me. Hopefully, he'll take me seriously. I may not have the gift of premonition, but the spell revealed more than I was prepared for. If he thinks I'm exaggerating, he'll send me back and I won't know what to do with myself. The not knowing would plague me for eternity.
“Clara,” he wheezes, and a chuckle escapes. “You didn't see me dying.”
I try to shove away from him, and he tightens his hold on me. “Let me go, Omen.”
“Stop,” he growls, the word tumbling around us, and I freeze. He tips my chin up. “Was I smiling? In your dream, premonition, whatever, was I grinning like a damned fool?” I nod and he smirks. “Yeah, you were seeing me in the gauntlet. It's an obstacle course.”
“I know what a gauntlet is,” I snap as annoyance and humiliation hits me.
“We use it to train the newer demons. I was helping out, showing them how to do it. Except Triton, the trainer, thought it'd be funny to add in something he saw somewhere. I didn't know I'd have to deal with fire lassoing me around the ankle.”
I bite my lip, searching his gaze for the lie. It's not there, just mirth. “It's from a movie.”
“I don't know what that is.”
I sigh, exhaustion swamping me. “You really need to get out more.”
“This might be a silly question, but do you feel better?”
“Emotionally, maybe. Physically, not at all.”
“Spellsick. Get some sleep and I'll figure something out.”
I hum as my lids grow heavy. It'll take more than a simple explanation to get over the thought of Omen dying. I still don't think I'm spellsick, but whatever. He'll do whatever he thinks is necessary regardless of what I think. Which is probably a goodthing since I can't think straight. I'll be better when I wake up, as long as he's here.
Istalk through the halls, half my mind still with Clara tucked away in my room. Dimitri appears next to me and nods, then grabs me and yanks me through a random door.
“We've gotta stop meeting like this,” Dimitri says with a grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
“Get to the point, Dimitri.”
“You think they actually use any of these cleaning supplies? I mean, it's not like Thursdays are for deep cleaning.”
“We don't even have Thursdays in Hell,” I grumble.
He tilts his head, contemplating that. “Suppose so. Anyway, what exactly did you do with her after I poofed?”
“I took care of her.”
“Well, that isn't ominous,” he mutters.
The last thing I want is to give him details about Clara. Not only is it not my story to tell, but it puts her in more danger if he knows. All it would take is a suspicion from one of the upper level demons and they'd be dragging Dimitri's ass into a room.They'd force him to talk, whether he wanted to or not. I won't put him in that position. While Hell works like a well-oiled machine, we're still demons. He'd be tortured for the information in his head.
“You figure out where you're getting summoned to?” I ask.He wrinkles his nose and glances away. “Are you glowing?”
His gaze snaps back to mine. “What? No. Why the fuck would I be glowing? It's not like anything happened to make me light up. I haven't been anywhere. I mean, other than the closet in some random witch's house. At least, I assume they're a witch. I mean, what else could it be?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Who, me? Nothing. I told you it's nothing.”
