Chapter 33
thirty-three
. . .
On my next day off, I take a trip into the city.
It’s been a while since I’ve been to New York.
When we were in high school, August and I used to ditch school every now and then to sneak away to the city for the day.
We’d usually wander around or hang out in a park or coffee shop (once a bar, but August was sweating profusely the entire time, so we just drank sodas, despite securing fake IDs).
Though, there was one time we came and found this incredible bookstore with the stacks up to the ceilings and every shelf was an absolute mess.
Looking for anything felt like a treasure hunt.
But a worthwhile one. We spent the entire day there sifting through books and each coming out with armfuls of treasures.
I smile slightly, despite my heart being squeezed in my chest. God, I can’t even imagine what she would say if I told her about Kit.
She would one, believe me, because she always believed in things like this, even more so than I used to.
And two, she would laugh her ass off. Of course, I would develop a massive crush on the demon possessing me.
Soon enough, the train pulls into Grand Central.
I have the route mapped out on my phone, since I’ll need to take a train down to Greenwich Village, which will involve me walking about ten minutes west to find the 123 trains.
I emerge onto the streets and am immediately overwhelmed by everything around me.
Cars are honking, tourists are crawling, residents are speed walking, people are everywhere.
I’ve never been here alone, not without August or Meggie or a random ex-thing to hold my hand. I take a deep breath. I’ll be fine.
I keep that thought process as I pass Bryant Park, and immediately disregard it as I have to cross into Times Square to enter the station.
I should have taken the shuttle from Grand Central instead of walking.
It’s approaching lunch hour, and people are swarming around me suddenly, like they grew out of the concrete.
I weave through the crowds and run down into the station, quickly pushing my way through the turnstile and navigating around even more people until I find my train.
The train comes nearly right away, and I take it down to the village and walk the rest of the way to the shop.
The shop is long, skinny, and dark with thick purple curtains hung over the windows. The tables have an assortment of sage, crystals, and spell books. I approach the woman behind the counter. She has short dark hair and a large silver hoop in her right nostril.
“Hi,” I say. “Can you point me to your…charms? I guess?”
“Is there a specific one you’re wanting?”
“Yeah.” I pull up the photo on my phone. “This one. Not the regular pentagram, but the one inside the little squiggly thing.”
She raises her eyebrows but declines to make a comment.
“Over here.” She leads me to the back corner where an assortment of faux leather bracelets and necklaces with various charms are hung from black metal hooks stuck directly into the wall.
“The ones you want are here.” Her fingers brush the metal charm on the far end.
It’s identical to my tattoo. “But, if you’re interested in any other sort of protection or influence, maybe you should have a glance at the others.
There’re cards with a description of each charm. ”
I spot them on the table below. “Thanks,” I say.
She nods and walks away.
I grab four of the charms I’m here for, one for me, one for Meggie, one for Matthias, one for my mom (even though I doubt I’ll successfully convince her to wear it), then decide to grab one more.
Just in case there’s someone else who comes along that needs one or one of us loses ours. I pick up the card for this charm.
The Pentagram is used to invoke or banish evil forces, as well as a shield against psychic or physical danger. The daemonium pentagram has been known to guard one from possession by evil beings.
I tap the card on my fingers and mutter, “They’re not all evil.”
“I am so glad you think so.” A man’s voice comes in from behind me, right in my ear.
I jump out of my skin, slamming a hand to my heart as I spin around and say, “What the actual hell, man?”
“I could tell you a few things about actual Hell, baby.”
I ready a retort, but then I see his eyes. Light blue, yet familiar.
“Kit?” I whisper, receiving a cocky grin.
I throw my arms around him, holding him as tightly as I can manage before I pull away, stumbling back. “Sorry,” I sputter, crossing my arms over myself. “I’m sorry.”
He tugs lightly on a strand of my hair, pulling it straight before releasing it and allowing it to boing back to position.
“No need to apologize.” He regards me seriously.
“I’m so glad you’re still you. I found you as soon as I could.
I just managed to get enough strength to leave the nether region today. ”
I step back, ignoring the comment confirming that I did indeed send him back to Hell, even though I still hate that he calls it the nether region.
“I’m not apologizing to you. I’m apologizing to the random man I just hugged.
” I look at the body Kit is possessing. He’s in his late twenties or early thirties.
Brunette. Attractive. Similar to how Kit looked when he was alive. Not actually Kit. “Is he awake?”
“They usually aren’t. You were an exception, Lace. Because you’re exceptional.”
I roll my eyes, finding it so easy to fall back into this comfort with him. “How long have you been thinking about that line?”
He looks sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “Basically since you woke up.”
I smile, because I can’t help it. I almost go to hug him again but keep my arms crossed to restrain myself. Nothing can ever happen with us. His body will never be his alone.
“You’re wearing the shirt I got you,” he says, eyeing the high-necked black tank I paired with jeans and threw under a leather jacket.
“I like it.” I consider the charms in my hand and then him. I grab his wrist, pull it toward me, and touch a charm to warm skin. “Does this do anything to you?”
Kit shakes his head. “You mean, does it hurt? It stings a bit. There’s a similar symbol that can cause true pain to demons, but only if it’s carved into this super rare metal that can only be found in Hell. Not something you or I even have access to.”
He needs to stop adding to the lore. My brain can’t take it.
“I mean, will it keep you out?”
He fingers the charm. “Oh. Yeah. And if you put it on this guy, it will keep me in.”
I pull the charm away. “Good to know.”
“It’s not a permanent solution, though. If it was…don’t you think I would have gotten you one of those charms and called it a day? It can be ripped off, destroyed.”
I pull up the hem of my shirt, revealing the tattoo on my hip, no longer under the clear bandage. “What about this?”
His eyes droop at the sight. “Lace…” His fingers graze the tattoo before he snatches his hand away with a hiss.
“Fuck. That burns.” He stares at the tattoo, contemplating.
“It hurt when I touched it, but I’m not positive it’ll work, sweetness.
Standard ink—” He meets my eye. “Unless you mixed it with holy water?”
“I put holy water on the spot after he cleaned it with alcohol.”
His teeth drag over his lower lip as he focuses back on the tattoo.
“Then it could work. Against me, at least. I just…” He rubs his forehead.
“Please wear that charm all the time as well. I don’t know if either of those things are strong enough against Balores.
If they are, then no demon, or ghost for that matter, will ever possess you again. ”
“It’s the only option I have.” I pull my shirt back down.
He looks at me desperately. “Can we please talk?”
“No.” If I talk to him, I won’t ever be able to say goodbye. I need to cut off contact with him, for both our benefits. I curve around him and head to the counter to check out.
He stays put against the wall with the charms but exits with me once I’ve paid.
“Leave me alone, Kit,” I say as I walk down the street at a pretty impressive speed. I take a turn into the first coffee shop I see and breathe a sigh of relief when he doesn’t follow me in. He’s taken the hint. Maybe I’ll never see him again. That will have to be okay.
When I take another step, moving toward a better hiding spot, a purple-haired worker in a tan apron grabs me by the arm and says, “Give me five minutes.”
“What?” I question, but then I look in his eyes. “Fuck. No, Kit.” I spin on my heel and leave the coffee shop. I’m speed walking again.
A middle-aged Latina woman runs up beside me and says, “Lacy, I am begging you. One minute.”
“No.”
I’m running now, hoping my memory of how to get back to the subway is accurate.
When I locate the telling green entrance, I practically fly down the stairs and through the turnstile.
Kit seems to be nowhere around me, but I’m whipping my head around wildly trying to see.
There is no way he has given up that easily.
The train comes, and I board with a group of people, snatching an empty seat.
I sit on the light-blue bench as the train pulls out of the station, lean forward with my head in my hands, and take deep breaths.
I suddenly feel a hand on my back, and an elderly Asian woman says to me, “I’m not mad at you, I promise, Lace.”
I drag my head up to look at him. “Kit…I don’t care. I don’t…I don’t know what you want.”
“To keep you safe. That’s all I ever wanted.”
I sit up straight and pull up the corner of my shirt to show him the tattoo again. “I’m keeping myself safe, remember?”
He frowns at the tattoo. “That was a bold step. You wanted rid of me that badly? That you couldn’t have told me of this plan? I would have helped. I was trying to help you.”
“Matthias helped me. After you left.”