She grins, her head tottering from side to side. The towel wrapped around her head unravels, then drops to the floor. She kicks the fabric to the side.
As she makes her way to the kitchen, she calls over her shoulder, “Won’t find any answers in there, Mariweather.”
I roll my eyes and shut the door. “Not my name.”
She knows it’s not, but her guesses get more and more ridiculous as the years go by. “If you’d just tell me, then we wouldn’t have to go through this all the time.”
“Everyone calls me Mari. My aunt, my sister, my professors in uni, my friends?—”
“You have friends?” she quips as she pulls pans and food from their respective places.
“Hardee har.” I collapse onto the chair and tuck my legs up.
“Pretty sure I’m youronlyfriend.”
“Way to rub it in. You realize if I told you what my actual name is, I wouldn’t have any secrets left?”
She drops a pan onto the stove, obscuring her response. It doesn’t matter. We’ve had this conversation a thousand times before. And it always ends the same way—her saying secrets don’t make friends. Then I’ll say my friends know the secrets that count, and she’ll once again act surprised I have friends. It’s a tale as old as time.
Even though my nail beds hurt and my muscles are fraying and my bones are slowly being ground to dust, it’s good to have her here. Anything to keep my mind busy. Today I’ll focus on just being with my friend. She’ll feed me and I’ll feel better. We’ll sit on the couch watching campy horror movies while downing an entire tub of ice cream. The usual.
And at no point will I be worried about the closet. The demon has no place in my life. He’s vanished and I’m perfectly okay with that. Even if he could help me find my sister, I don’t need, nor want, his help. I’ll find her on my own like I planned to do all along.
Percy drops a plate in front of me, and the distinct smell of bacon wafts up. My mouth waters at the feast. She takes the chair Dimitri sat in and I shake my head, pushing him from my mind. He’s long gone, back to Hell and out of my life for good.
At least I hope he is.
Iemerge from the void groggy and disoriented. It takes me too long to figure out where I am. It’s not the cage, thank fuck. As I glance around, I realize I’m at the gauntlet. At least it’s quiet—deathly quiet. Triton must be doing something else with the younger demons. Probably showing them how to travel between dimensions. I’m suddenly very grateful I don’t have to help this time around.
Most of the time, I like training the new ones. They’re all awkward and don’t know their ass from their elbow. Running the gauntlet is exhilarating. Plus, it’s better than most tasks Ludovic gives me. Part of me wants to oust Triton from his job. Fuck knows there’s plenty of demons coming up through the ranks. We could use some more leaders. I doubt Ludovic will approve, and right now, I’m too discombobulated to persuade him.
I do have to talk to Omen, though. Triton’s been asking where the hell he is, and I don’t really have answers that don’tinclude ratting out my friend. Which means I have to find him soon to warn him.
I gather my magic and skip through the edges of the void to my bedroom. At least it’s easier to jump between spaces in Hell, otherwise I would have been dumped off in a pit or something. As I drag myself to the bathroom, my mind keeps wandering back to Mari. I don’t think she’s as committed to having nothing to do with me as she seemed. If she hadn’t talked herself out of it, I bet she would’ve taken me up on my offer.
I’m halfway through showering when pain stabs through my head and I press my fists to my skull. The hot spray hits the back of my neck, easing the throbbing slightly. I can’t keep going like this. I might have to talk to someone other than Mari about this. Not my sister. I wasn’t joking when I said Karma wouldn’t truly help. I could ask Providence, Omen’s sister. She might have some insight.
As I dry off, the light overhead flickers. I narrow my gaze on the hanging pendant, daring it to go haywire. It’s not electricity like they have topside. No, this runs purely on magic, which would be great if I didn’t have that shit running through my veins. Other demons don’t seem to understand how annoying it is. Not that I complain about it. I keep shit to myself. It’s easier than people jumping my shit for being down. The last time I showed the slightest bit of crankiness, Triton thought I was dying.
I rest my forehead against the marble door, letting the cold seep into my skin. Mari wouldn’t be able to slam this one in my face. It’d probably be too heavy for her. I wonder if Clara’s still in Hell. If she is, Omen’s going to have some explaining to do. He can’t hide her forever. Humans, especially witches, aren’t easy to hide down here. Someone always feels the disturbance in the balance.
After pulling on a pair of jeans and a shirt I swiped from topside, I go searching for Omen. I could jump straight to his door, but I only do that when it’s an emergency. Being cursed doesn’t really count. I haven’t even decided whether I’m going to tell him. Warning him about Triton doesn’t count as urgent either.
I take the stairs up to one of the main hallways and immediately veer to the left. Ludovic’s familiar horns catch the light as he talks to some other demons. I use a group of them to hide my movements, and I slip through an unknown door. The main passageways may stay put, but the rest take turns disappearing. I should look into who fucks with them. Might lead to some interesting information I could use later.
With a sliver of light filtering through the crack I leave, I catch sight of Omen stalking through the crowd. Others scramble out of his way, though he doesn’t notice. He never understood why others were intimidated by him. His resting bitch face is on point. While I’m more likely to grin at someone, he’s more likely to scowl. Maybe that’s why we’re friends—opposites attract or whatever.
As he passes, I step out and he gives me a startled look. I latch onto his arm and yank him into the dark room. I flip on the light, then get a good look at his face. He’s clearly not doing well.
“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” I say with a grin.
“Get to the point, Dimitri,” he snaps.
I glance around as my muscles tense. “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 tilt my head and realize he’s right. Traveling between dimensions screws with my sense of time. Not that time is linear. None of it ever lines up, which is usually great for my chaoticbrain. Right now, it’s messing with my head. I contemplate what to talk to him about first and settle on his issues instead of mine.
