17. Sneaky demon
SNEAKY DEMON
Ro
Lor allowed me to sleep at her place after we “got it out of our systems for good this time” last night.
I snort at the memory of her insisting this would be it.
Neither of us believed it, but I didn’t argue.
I want more than just her body, so I can be patient for her.
I roll over in the scratchy sheets, wondering how she sleeps on these every night, then haul myself out of bed.
She’s puttering around in the kitchen, and the sound of the the coffee maker spluttering is so domestic I want to do a little happy dance. Smiling already, I wander into the hallway in time to overhear Lor talking to the cat she refuses to claim, but is totally hers.
“Kahlo, how many times do I have to tell you?” Lor hisses in a whisper. “Get off the counter.”
Kahlo hisses back, then there’s a muffled crash.
“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic,” Lor whisper-yells.
I’d bet all my savings Kahlo just pushed something off the counter in retaliation for Lor’s scolding. I fake a yawn, covering my mouth to hide my grin as I round the corner into the kitchen.
“Mornin!”
Lor jumps, turning her scathing glare on me from where she’s crouched on the floor wiping up coffee grounds. I pretend it’s a smile; someday we’ll get there. She’s only just learning how to, so I can’t expect her to be smiling at me all the time yet.
“You’re a morning person, aren’t you?” Lor says as though it’s an accusation.
I shrug, tipping my nose into the air as the coffee starts filling the pot. “Mmm, that smells amazing. Did you make enough for me?”
Lor stands, tosses out the paper towels she was using, then turns back to me. I rub my hand over my bare chest, noting how her gaze follows the movement. Her eyes snag on my nipple rings, then dart up to my lip ring. Girl loves some piercings, lucky for me.
My grin widens. How can I not feel smug when she’s devouring me with those stunning grey eyes?
Unfortunately, she doesn’t follow through on whatever tempting thoughts she’s having.
“I have to go,” Lor says.
It’s only now that I notice she’s fully dressed.
Black pants and a midnight blue crop top hug her subtle curves.
Her long hair is up in two messy buns, and her fingers are lined with rings.
She glances at me as she strides around the kitchen, putting things away and setting her keys on the edge of the counter.
“But the coffee isn’t done,” I say.
“That’s for you.”
I gape at her. She made me coffee? And…
“You’re… leaving me alone at your place?”
Lor shrugs, but doesn’t meet my eyes. I sense her tension, and decide not to push it. Her trust is a gift, and one I don’t take lightly.
I clear my throat. “Thanks.”
Lor nods on her way to the bathroom, and I’m left alone in the kitchen. Kahlo saunters back in and I smile, bending down to offer head and butt scritches as the coffee maker beeps.
Then I realize what that means, her leaving me here alone. She’s leaving.
I jump into action, snagging my shirt from the floor by the couch and slipping it on as I hurry back to her room where my boxers and pants are…
somewhere. I run my hands through my hair as I search, finally finding them half under the foot of the bed on the side opposite me.
I step into my underwear, then hop on one foot as I tug my pants on.
The sink runs as Lor brushes her teeth in the bathroom.
I slip my phone in my pocket and search for my jacket next, nearly bumping into her in the hallway when she comes out the door.
“Ah, hey,” I say, breathless. “Can I borrow some mouth wash?”
“Sure.” Lor waves me into the bathroom and I take a gulp, swishing as I head back into the kitchen. I spit in the sink, then request a travel mug.
Lor pauses and eyes me, suspicious.
“I’ve got some things to do, so I’ll just head out with you,” I say.
Perhaps a misdirect, but it’s not a lie. I do have things to do. Namely, following Lor, making sure Lor’s safe, and in general, obsessing over Lor. I should probably call my therapist, too.
We’re on the road in no time, and I take a wrong turn to throw her off, grinning with mischief and devious intent. I saw her grab her backpack before she left, and I have a hunch she’s headed back to the same creepy warehouse I’ve followed her to before.
The urge to follow, to protect, to know her, has taken priority, and I’m not fighting it anymore.
I know I should let her share her secrets in her own time, and while I’m happy to let her share whatever she wants with me, I’m also happy to find them out on my own.
Especially now that I know the truth of her family.
Star-chasers.
Demons might have magic, but Lor is magical.
I up my speed, weaving between traffic as I race against the clock to beat her there. I’m not going to lose her this time.
Hand over hand, I steadily climb the fire escape on the back side of the building Lor went into.
I’m careful to step softly so my boots don’t thump on the metal ladder, and soon enough voices drift through the glass above me.
I slow down and peek into the bottom corner of the window to see Lor in the middle of a concrete room facing three men.
One looks to be the leader, standing between the other two and reaching to take the cloth bag from Lor, then passing it to one of the others, who snaps his fingers.
A man in a lab coat sprints up to them and takes the bag, then disappears out of my line of sight.
I look back at the three men facing Lor, but can’t make much out. Their backs are to me, so I can’t see them clearly. I lean forward, straining to make out the words, when the leader raises his voice.
“You know this isn’t acceptable, Alorra,” he booms, and I frown at the condescending tone he uses, especially with her full name. “Do you need a reminder of what happens when people fail me?”
Lor shakes her head, her mouth pinched shut and eyes trained on the floor between them.
The man waves a hand imperiously, and a few moments later more bodies appear.
Two massive men, muscles bulging, are hauling a third between them.
He’s limp, feet dragging on the floor and head lolling to the side.
The leader gestures at them, then clasps his hands behind his back and faces Lor again.
The goons drop the beaten man, the thump of his head hitting concrete reaches me all the way up here in my hiding spot. I wince, then freeze when my boot squeaks on the metal. I duck out of sight, holding my breath.
Voices continue to rumble inside, and there doesn’t seem to be any alarm or shouting, so I peek back up to see the two muscular goons have disappeared. Only the beaten—possibly dead—man and the first three remain.
Lor has her face turned away from the grisly scene.
I don’t blame her. Nausea rises, making my mouth water and my gut heave, but I’m determined to sit through this with her. She may not know it yet, but she’s not alone anymore.
I steady my breathing and strain my ears again, picking up the boss’ voice one more.
“Continue underperforming, and that—” he pauses, angling his head at the maybe-dead man, “will soon be your fate.”
My blood rushes to my ears and flames leap to life on my fingers. White noise and my pounding pulse are all I can hear. My demon is thundering in my chest, my entire body vibrating with rage that he would dare to threaten my Lor. My Starfire.
Flames lick at my sleeves and I look down to see my hands fully engulfed. My lip pulls up in a sneer and I push the flames away from my clothing, uncaring that my cuffs are already singed. I turn back to the window and am briefly surprised when I see my reflection.
There are flames in my eyes. My pupils are blown out, fully dilated and glowing with only a thin ring of iris around them. I close my eyes and suck in a breath.
I haven’t lost control like this since I was a kid first coming into my powers, and even then it never made my eyes glow.
I open them again, and peer into the warehouse to see the leader turning around. Finally. I burn his image into my brain; I’ll be seeing him again soon.
The other two could be statues for how still they’ve been this whole time, and that doesn’t change now.
Lor waits for my new enemy to leave, then turns on her heel and strides out.
A flare of pride shoots through me at her composure, but it’s quickly followed by worry, then rage.
Has she been living like this her whole life?
I back down the fire escape, hands trembling and knees nearly knocking together until I drop to the ground and let out a shaky breath. My heart is racing, and fire still licks between my fingers, coating my palms. I won’t be able to touch anything flammable until I get it under control.
My mind flashes back to elementary school, when my powers first started emerging.
I was at a friend’s birthday party, in the backyard.
They had an awesome play set with swings, a slide, a climbing wall and a rope ladder.
We were playing pirates, waiting for the other kids to arrive.
My friend was at the top, standing above the slide with an arm outstretched, pretending to hold a sword.
We had just stolen all the treasure from the evil king and were making our great escape.
I was climbing up the rope ladder, laughing and yelling about how fearsome we were.
I didn’t notice at first, still climbing, but then the rope started smoking.
I smelled it first, then looked down to see blackened marks on the last few rungs I’d just climbed.
I pulled my hand back, but it looked normal, so I kept going.
I ignored the tingling warning that was zinging up the back of my neck.
I ignored the smoking handprints. I even ignored it when my hand burned straight through one of the rungs; I was close enough to the wooden platform that I just hopped right up.