Chapter 10 #3
“Distract him?” I mouthed hopefully at the daimon woman.
Sugar, she was supernaturally beautiful.
It was almost absurd seeing her in the middle of a dingy store in Milton.
Her blonde hair hung completely straight, and her makeup was so chic yet definitely edgy enough that my mother would have a stroke on the spot if I tried it.
Ugh, she even had a nose ring. Impossibly cool.
She looked like she should be on a stage somewhere, half hidden in shadows as she played the bass, all cool and aloof.
She had an incredibly apathetic face, and I sort of admired how cool and detached she appeared in her gray knit jumper with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, showcasing the flower tattoos that covered both of her arms. Given the situation, she should probably look a little less relaxed, right? I definitely was not feeling relaxed.
I didn’t know how I expected her to react to my request. An outright refusal, probably. Since I’d met Riot, I’d felt uniquely connected to the daimon community, even though I knew I appeared like a regular agathos nobody to them.
To my surprise, she gave me an exasperated nod, rolling her purple and red eyes dramatically. Maybe she was just desperate enough to roll with it in the hopes I could get us all out of here alive. Or maybe she thought I had a better plan than I actually had.
“Your father died,” she said to the gunman in a flat voice, her stare boring into the side of his head.
“What?!” he gasped, swinging around to point the gun at her chest. Sugar . His back was fully turned to me now, and I crept along the aisle on my tiptoes, cursing my decision to wear heeled boots that morning. “How do you know that?”
How did she know that?
“Suicide,” the woman continued, in that same terrifyingly monotone voice. “A terrible way to go. This won’t fix things though. It won’t solve your mom’s financial problems. You’ll go to jail. She’ll be all alone.”
“Stop talking!” the gunman ordered, looking shaken.
I rounded the end of the aisle, only two feet away from him.
Dev was standing as still as a statue behind the register, shooting me an alarmed warning look with his eyes.
“I don’t know you, lady. How do you know all this stuff?
Stop talking,” he said again, shaking his head so violently that his hoodie slipped off, revealing short brown hair underneath.
“I’m a psychic,” she deadpanned, barely sparing a glance at the gun pointed at her heart. “I see nothing but sorrow in your future if you continue down this path.”
Were there psychic daimons? Riot had mentioned something about dreams, but this woman was very much awake, and seemed to be coming up with her speech on the spot.
Her eyes slid to mine over his shoulder in a very clear hurry up signal, so perhaps she wasn’t as relaxed as she appeared. Understandably so.
Steeling myself and hoping I didn’t pee my pants out of fright, I rushed across the short distance between myself and the gunman and slapped my hand on the back of his neck, the only exposed skin I could find, before changing the angle slightly so at least to the humans watching us, it would look like I was pressing on his carotid artery.
Luck wouldn’t help this situation, even if I had any left to give. Instead, I sucked all of his emotional pain into me, draining him as fast as I could. Fast enough to knock him out. To knock both of us out probably, judging by the agony he was carrying around.
Even hearing a small fraction of what he’d been through from the daimon woman, I didn’t think I could have prepared myself for the agony I was jumping head first into.
His mind was a dark mire, full of gaping pits of hollowness framed by sharp, jagged edges. It was a terrible place, and this man—this young man—had been residing in it for a long time, because this kind of pain didn’t arise overnight.
It was the kind of dark misery that was so thick, it seemed impossible for any light to get through.
The kind that made hope seem like a thing of the past, rather than an option for the future.
I couldn’t give him hope, that wasn’t my gift, but I could clear some of the murkiness so he could find it for himself.
Since I hadn’t verbally eased him into accepting my help, the man startled at the sudden contact, struggling for half a second to shake me off even though the feeling was probably quite pleasant on his end.
That half second was all it took for me to catch an elbow to the eye, and my grip tightened on his neck as I sucked in a pained breath, forcing myself not to let go.
Freaking ouch ! That was definitely going to bruise.
This is why we don’t just grab people, Grace.
Wincing at the injury, I pulled harder on his anguish and the man stopped struggling, probably feeling as dizzy as I was beginning to feel. His would be a good dizzy though. A brief reprieve from all the hurt.
The daimon woman smacked the weapon out of his hand the moment the gunman began to slacken and Dev moved quickly, rushing around the counter to grab him as his legs started to buckle beneath him.
I was vaguely offended that he hadn’t come to my aid instead, but I supposed to him it didn’t look like I was doing anything particularly strenuous.
On the inside, my head felt like it was exploding—my vision was fading around the edges and I watched my hand drop from his neck like I was watching someone else’s limb.
My head hurt, but my body felt numb. Too numb to hold me upright.
Oh dear.
I was going to collapse, and that would definitely raise questions. I shouldn’t have left Auburn. I didn’t want to be unconscious and all alone here. If someone called the authorities, they’d probably get hold of my parents.
Hadn’t I had enough bad luck already?
Purple eyes rimmed in red met mine, but they weren’t the right eyes. There was too much purple. Too much eyeliner.
“You’re not Riot,” I murmured as spots filled my vision. It almost looked like the eyes in front of me widened.
And then there was nothing.