Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
I’m a few sips into my beer when the pretzel arrives and I tear into it, shoving the soft bread into my mouth. The group of guys next to me have migrated even closer so I make it obvious that there is a large ring on my finger that clearly states I’m off limits—and out of their tax bracket. But before they can make a move on me, the little dot on the inside of my right hand burns like there’s a poker straight out of the fire being pressed against it.
“Fuck,” I huff and bring my hand to my chest. “Leave me alone,” I say through gritted teeth. I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to shut the demon out. The image of Antonio lying on the ground of the warehouse flashes before me. Everything is exactly the same as it was but Antonio’s lifeless eyes aren’t human.
They’re inked over and black like demons.
Gasping, I open my eyes and bring my hand to my head, heart racing.
“I said stop it,” I whisper, not caring if I sound crazy. I rip off a piece of the pretzel and take a bite, unable to quiet the voices in my head. I try to shake them away, but the more I try to ignore them, the louder they get. I get a flash of Tent City, and I don’t know if I’m being shown a vision or just recalling the last time I was there with Delphi. The memories are my own, and are vivid, which isn’t surprising since what we discovered was a little jarring.
Still, something inside me is telling me to go back because there was something big we missed the last time we were there. Logically, it’s possible. The demon poking around and using the bodies of homeless people doesn’t really make sense. The obvious thing is that the demon was having lesser demons do something on its behalf, but exactly what is still unknown.
Trying to force the feelings away, I do my silly white light mediation. It works for a lot of things, not just demons, and being able to stay in control of your emotions helps in all areas of life. I open up my phone, doom scrolling to get a serotonin boost as well as distract myself. I’m almost done with the pretzel when a cop car goes flying past. We’re in the heart of the city and police presence isn’t uncommon.
But when a second cop goes racing down the street, followed by a third, and a fourth, and then a fifth, more than half the bar turns and looks out the window. I narrow my eyes, seeing the flashing lights maybe two blocks down.
The group of guys next to me are all looking at one guy’s phone. He has some sort of police scanner app and I catch just parts of their conversation but it’s enough to know that the people randomly and suddenly becoming violent has a supernatural cause.
I quickly pay my tab, shove my phone and Xavier’s credit card in my bag, take a big drink of my beer and bring my pretzel with me, finishing it as I hurry out of the bar and head down the street, not stopping until I get to the corner across the street from where a dozen cops are standing with their guns drawn. I can see the confusion and fear on their faces along with the terror of the crowd.
We’re in front of another bar with a patio area that was set up with a live band who was still playing. I quickly scan the scene, taking it all in. It’s pure chaos, with manic energy to match.
The band’s drummer is sitting on the curb, holding broken drumsticks in one hand. Blood drips down his forehead and another member of the band stands near him, eyes wide. He’s holding a rag to his face, mopping up a bloody nose. A group of girls all dressed in bright red dresses argue to the side, pointing to another girl in red who’s standing away from them sobbing. A woman lays on the ground, dead or unconscious, I can’t tell yet. She’s covered in blood that may or may not be her own. Another girl who can’t be a day over twenty-one is on the ground only feet from her, dress smoking after catching on fire.
A couple other people are crouched down, hiding under tables trying to stay out of the way of a large man dressed in all black. He’s on the ground, writhing like a rabid dog. He stands up and I get a glimpse of his eyes.
He’s possessed.
“Stand down,” the cops say, rightly confused by the scene they discovered. The possessed man doesn’t listen and instead turns, walking several paces toward the cops. Oh shit, he’s going to get himself shot.