Chapter 6
Chapter Six
I wake. Huh, I’m alive. Oh, and now there’s the cotton-wool–cloud-like feeling. I blink my eyes open to greet the world through a drug-fuelled haze. Colours sharpen enough for me to make out a face. A demon looms over me, his face still somewhat blurry.
“Arlo,” I mouth. His blue-grey eyes that normally sparkle with devious delight are flat. His expression shows nothing, not even anger. I guess I’ve been unconscious for a while if he has gone from the spitting-mad “I’m gonna rip your throat out” stage to this calm, scary and uber-controlled phase.
I yearn for him to hold me, God, I want him to hold me. Stroke my hair and tell me that everything is going to be okay. That I’m safe and nothing will ever hurt me again, that he won’t allow anything or anyone to hurt me.
The demon does none of those things.
Silly me.
Arlo runs a gentle finger down my cheek.
“I had high hopes for you…you were my favourite. Look what you have done to yourself: broken. Broken beyond repair. If I wanted you broken, damaged, I would have done it myself,” he says.
Frowning, he rubs his thumb over his finger as if he is removing dirt from the digit, dirt from touching me.
“You went and involved yourself in my affairs, in my business. Look at how that has turned out. Look what your kind heart did. You are ruined, and you did this.”
I beg with my eyes for forgiveness, unable to say the words. It has no impact. Like it had no impact on John. I tremble and my tummy aches.
Arlo’s eyes narrow, and his pouty mouth turns down. He steps away and walks towards a floor-to-ceiling window. My fuzzy gaze quickly takes in the unfamiliar room. It’s made of glass—I feel a little like a fish in a tank. I presume we are in a hospital.
I shift a little and dull pain ripples across my torso. Ouch.
I go still. I wait for more pain but luckily, through the cotton-wool feeling imposed by the drugs, the pain remains a dull steady throb.
The demon turns, and my mind jumps a little.
Did I miss what he was saying? Fuzzy. Everything is so fuzzy.
“I hope you learned your lesson. I need not punish you when you did such an excellent job on your own. Your life has changed—your status in my household has dropped to the very bottom. Now you are a cautionary tale for the others. No one will step out of line for centuries. That is the only reason I won’t kill you.
I will keep you. Though I will never touch you again.
” He steps back to the bed, a fake, smug smile on his full, puffy lips.
“I would have let you die. I don’t like broken things.
” Arlo’s eyes run across me, and he curls his lip.
“The poor, poor hellhound is distraught—I can see the guilt eating him alive. Poetic really, two broken souls twisted together by fate, forever entwined.” He waves his hand to indicate the room.
“John Hesketh paid for all this, found a vampire surgeon that has a passion for non-magical intervention. The doctor butchered you to keep you alive.”
Arlo chuckles. He leans closer and whispers, “Did John Hesketh play with you in an attempt to rescue his mummy? What secrets did you confess? Mmm? How long did it take? To destroy my pet?” He uses the tip of his nail to lift my chin.
“Would you like to know something interesting, Broken Thing? While you received the hellhound’s special attention…
” he pauses dramatically and leans close, his icy breath fanning my face.
Goosebumps break out on my arms. Arlo raises an eyebrow.
His eyes sparkle with joy. “…They were already dead. His pack. Before he even met you, they were dead. Dead for over a week.”