“Wasn’t fighting you, spitfire. I’m not exactly in a position to do anything other than eat and pass the fuck out.” He taps the spoon against the rim, then stops when I glare at him. “What do you know about curses?”
“Uh, they’re shitty?”
“Obviously. Do you know how to break them?”
I shrug, then wince at the tightness in my shoulders. “Depends on the curse. Just like the price of dark magic.”
“You realize it’s not really dark, right? It’s about balance?—”
I hold up my spoon. “Do not lecture me.”
“Except you?—”
“Well aware. But do you honestly expect us to go around explaining balance and neutrality every time we talk about the other side of magic? What a ludicrous notion. I swear, every time some yahoo comes along, they think they know better than us. Even when I’m faking it, making up all the rules, they still want to argue.”
He sits back and crosses his arms. I resist the urge to do the same. Instead, I tuck my knee closer to my chest and huddle over my bowl. I forgot—forgot that he’s a demon, that he could crush my skull with one hand, that he could smite me. Wait, I think that’s the other guy. Whatever, a demon could probably do it. He was right when he questioned how much I knew about them. My aunt always said the words were best left unspoken. Lark and I always thought she meant it literally. Maybe she was wrong.
“Seems to me you could use some education on demons.” He holds up his hand when I start to object. “And I could use some help with curses. Wouldn’t it be better to work together instead of bickering? From the looks of it, you could definitely use some help. I’m sure I don’t look much better.”
“Well, that was insulting,” I mutter, glancing away.
He gives me a look I can’t decipher. “We could help each other.”
“No,” I snap as I push to my feet and gather my dishes. I’m halfway to the sink when he sighs heavily.
“Why not?”
I drop the bowl onto the counter and spin around, planting my hands on my hips. “You hid in my closet for weeks?—”
“Wasn’t hiding,” he mutters.
“You crashed into me when I finally opened it.”
“Didn’t really have a choice.”
I plow onward, trying to ignore his interruptions. “Then you acted like my house was the new vacation spot.”
“I’d probably pick the beach for vacation. Or the moun?—”
“And then you showed up tonight without warning.”
“Not my fault.”
“Would you stop?” I cry, and the fight drains out of me. “I don’t know who you are. Or why you were in my closet. Logically, I should be terrified. I should electrocute you or something. I should be cowering under the covers waiting for the thing that goes bump in the night to eat me.”
His lip twitches, and I swear if he makes some dirty joke I’m going to hex him—see how his pretty face looks covered with oozing boils. He’d probably pull it off somehow. Pretty bastard. Maybe that’s what I’ll call him since he insists on giving me a nickname.
“You know, if we helped each other, we get to know each other. And then we wouldn’t be strangers anymore.”
I narrow my gaze at the note of desperation in his voice. Questions roll through my mind. What’s his motive? Why is he so insistent? How does he keep getting in here? The longer I stare at him, the more pile up, yet I shove them all away. I don’t need answers. I need a shower and a nap and a break.
“I’d rather be strangers. You can begone or whatever,” I say, waving my hand as I stumble from the kitchen.
I don’t really care if he’s here when I come back or not. I just can’t be bothered. As I get in the shower, though, I realize how nice it was to eat with someone else. Getting used to it would be disastrous. I vow not to think about him ever again.
Iwonder at what point I should tell her I didn’t disappear.
As the shower starts up, I let out a heavy sigh, then push to my feet. I gather up my dishes and take them to the sink. I end up puttering around her small kitchen instead of venturing into the rest of the house. She looked sick, and I doubt she’ll want to clean up this mess when she’s done avoiding me.
