Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Suddenly, he reaches up, wrapping a bloody hand around my wrist. His eyes are wide open and the inky lines that crisscrossed them start to fill in.
He’s a demon.
Going on instinct, I put my free hand on his chest and zap him with magic. The blackness fades from his eyes and a rush of black smoke leaves through his open mouth, disappearing into the air. The body flops back, unmoving. What the fuck?
I pry the man’s dead fingers from around my wrist and notice what looks like defensive wounds on his arms. There are little cuts on his face from maybe a week or so ago, reminding me of ones you get when you’re running through the woods, crashing through low-hanging branches. I know because I’ve chased—and been chased by—enough demons through the Appalachian wilderness to last a lifetime.
“What did you get yourself into?” I whisper to the man, shaking my head.
“There’s a cop!” someone shouts, and I look up to see them flagging down an officer. Shit. I was hoping to get out of here unnoticed. Wanting to look this guy over before the cops roll in, I gently push his head to the side and look for vampire bite marks on his neck.
There’s none.
Scanning the rest of him, I notice dirt on his fingers and under his nails. The knees of his pants are dirty as well, and his once white running shoes are brown and caked with dried mud. He smells like urine, which is typical in demonic possession cases where the demons either don’t know how or don’t care to control basic bodily functions.
He’s wearing a watch, and I hurry to get it off and shoved into my pocket right as the officer comes running over.
“He ran into traffic,” I say, doing my best to look as horrified and shocked as a normal person would. I make my eyes go wide and slowly shake my head. “There was nothing we could do to stop him.” I purposely take in a ragged breath and pull my arms in, shaking.
“It’s all right ma’am. I’ll take over from here,” the cop says and I back away. His partner comes over, ready to question us before I can get away.
“He was trying to take my bag,” Business Woman Number One tells him. “She stopped him and then he just…he just ran into the road.”
“You stopped him?” the cop asks, looking me up and down. I love it when men underestimate me. Gives me a chance to prove them wrong.
“I did, but I don’t think he was trying to mug us.”
“What makes you say that?” The officer gets out a pen and pad.
“He didn’t try to take the purse.” I shake my head, replaying it all. “He ran up and said something, but he looked rattled, not violent.”
“Not violent?” Business Woman Number Two scoffs. “He attacked you both.”
“Hang on,” the officer starts. “What are your names?”
“Florence Malus,” I say, forgetting the weight the Malus name carries until I see the cop look up at me, unblinking for several seconds. “Xavier’s wife,” I confirm.
“Have you been hurt, Mrs. Malus?”
“I’m fine. He’s not.” I make a face and look at the dead guy in the street.
The officer nods, turns away from us, and says something into his radio. Great. I don’t want special treatment. He takes down the names of the business women and more cop cars roll up. A female officer comes out and hurries over to me.
“Hi, Mrs. Malus,” she says and it’s still weird to hear anyone call me that. “Can I take you to the station? Only to get your statement in privacy and get you off the street in case this wasn’t a random event.”
Offering a polite smile, I just nod, certain this is some sort of rule Xavier has put in place. I don’t need anyone to swoop in and rescue me and going to the police station isn’t something I really have the time or mental bandwidth for. However…I look at the man lying in the street and see a cop retrieve a wallet from the man’s back pocket…if I go to the station, there’s a chance I can get a little more info on this guy.
Devon came to me freaked out about something he discovered relating to exactly this. Whatever he found was jarring enough to want to run away from. I have to find out anything else I can.
“Yeah, I can certainly do that,” I tell the officer, who’s looking around for anyone who might come running out of the shadows. Yep, Xavier definitely told the cops I’m under his protection. “Thank you, Officer Whitmore,” I say, reading her name off of her uniform. She leads me to her cruiser and opens the front passenger door for me. I’ve never been up front in a cop car before.