by Kayla Krantz
He holds his hands up defensively. “Don’t look at me like that. It was the best I could do.”
“You never did tell me how you got the room,” I muse and cross through the tiny kitchen back to the “bedroom” part of the room.
He dips two fingers into his pocket and emerges with a thin plastic card between them. “You can thank a Mister Michael Tanner for this room.” He tosses the card onto the table beside him and I laugh.
“I never thought I’d be so relieved to be friends with a criminal before.” I sink to the floor, working on untying the knots in the laces of my boots.
The smile falls off of Marcus’ face as he leans against the wall, watching me.
“What?” I ask.
He tucks his lip between his teeth. “Nothing.”
I narrow my eyes and toss my undone shoe at him. “Don’t give me that. I hate that answer.”
He sighs and drops to his knees beside me. “Fine. It’s just, well, Shadow doesn’t seem as if he was all that innocent.”
“Yeah, I’ve thought that,” I admit, going to work on untying my other shoe while at the same time keeping my eyes from letting their tears drip free.
“You’ve done nothing wrong by caring about him, you know?” Marcus says.
I stare harder at my shoes, my twitching fingers shaking more and more by the second and even the easiest of knots would be impossible to undo in this condition.
“You can have the bed,” Marcus says and turns away as if he knows no words will make me feel better at this point.
Maybe he sees the emotion in my hands or the fact that I won’t let him see my face. “Okay,” I say at last and pull myself up onto the sheets.
I watch him take off his jacket and snag one of the pillows off the bed to make a makeshift spot on the floor without a single complaint and all I can do is admire him for it.
“So, why’d you stay?’ I ask finally.
“Huh?” he asks, turning to glance at me over his shoulder.
“If you just wanted to pick my pockets, why did you stay after the fact? Why did you bother to ever get involved with all those demons? With Alec and Reddick?”
He props himself up on his elbows. “Contrary to what you’ve been told, demons are capable of compassion, empathy, and all those other gooey things that come with having a heart because believe it or not, we have those too.”
I blink and set my head back onto the pillow. My entire life my Coven has brainwashed me. Looking into Marcus’ eyes, I know that now. Eventually, Marcus lays back down as well but I can’t stop staring at the back of his head, remembering his words.
History is taught in a way that leaves the receiver of the information impressionable. I’ve always been told demons started the war but what if that’s not the truth? What if we’re the bad guys after all?
I don’t know when I start crying but I can’t make it stop. I press my face into the pillow, trying so hard to stifle the sounds so that Marcus won’t hear them. It’s humiliating. After everything that’s happened so far, how can I lay here and cry? My internal chastising only makes it worse but I do it anyway because I do believe I’ve lost my mind at this point.
Through the darkness, I risk a glance at my arm and the tattoo and think how drastically everything has changed in just a matter of hours. If Marcus hadn’t risked his life to save mine, I’d be dead right now. If I somehow had managed to survive without him, I would’ve gone home as soon as I saw just how deep this whole thing goes, as soon as I realized how little I really know Ian.
I’ve left myself covered in scars yet I’ll never know if you would’ve done the same for me.
“If you wanted a water bed, you could’ve just asked,” Marcus says suddenly.
“Huh?” I ask, sniffling suddenly in a pathetic attempt to gather myself. I have no idea how long he’s been listening to me but it’s most likely been long enough for the effort to hide the tears to be fruitless.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Great!” I say but my voice cracks and I hate myself again.
“What have I done to warrant a lie from you?” he asks and I realize that he’s moving closer.
“Nothing, it’s just…” I don’t know how to finish that sentence. I don’t know how to explain the chaotic mess inside of me and I doubt I ever will. There’s no way I can make him understand. Instead, the dam of my tears bursts again and the already soaking wet pillow takes the full brunt of the impact.
“Hey!” Marcus says and I feel the edge of the bed dip as he sits down. He doesn’t give me a chance to reply before he wraps his arms around me tightly. I’m rigid at first but he doesn’t let go and I let myself dissolve into the contact. The first time a demon touched me without consequence I had just thought I was lucky but now I know, demon skin really doesn’t burn on contact—another lie I’ve been told by the Elders.
“You’re not alone in this,” he whispers in my ear and tries to pull away, but I hold firm. Now that he’s so close, I suddenly don’t care that he’s a stranger. All I care about is the fact that he’s right.
I don’t know how long we stay like that but I eventually manage to drift off to sleep with the feeling of drowning still very much in my head and chest. It feels so peaceful that I don’t protest.
The next time I’m conscious, it’s morning and Marcus is still wrapped around me, his arm hanging loose as he snores into the pillow. As I study the delicate lines of his face, I’m amazed once again by my situation. I never thought I’d wake up in the same bed as a demon and feel nothing but warmth.
It’s a cold day in Hell, I muse and rouse him from sleep.
“Huh? What?” Marcus asks, voice heavy with sleep as he reaches up to wipe a slick of drool off his chin.
“It’s morning,” I say simply and sit up.
He snorts to full consciousness as he realizes his arm is over my waist. He pulls it away but neither of us comment on it.
“I don’t remember falling asleep,” he admits and ruffles his dark hair.
“Me either,” I reply and scoop my shoes up off the floor.
Marcus wrinkles his nose as he watches me.
“What?” I ask questioningly.
“Wouldn’t you like to shower before heading back out?”
I shrug. “Why bother? The sooner we get going, the sooner the spell can be broken, right?”
Marcus sets his hand on my shoulder and I pause. “You’ll be better off changing outfits.”
“Why?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.
“These are Old Demons we’re supposed to be finding. If you think what regular demons did to you at the bar was bad, what do you think they’ll do?”
A flash of Ian’s body runs through my mind.
“Exactly,” he says as if he’s guessed my thoughts. “Go shower and wake up the rest of the way. I’ll be back in a minute with a fresh change of clothes.”
He doesn’t listen to my protests so I do as he suggested.
I wait until I hear the sound of the door closing before I peek into the bathroom. It’s immaculately clean and the brightness of the white bothers me. It’s too clean, like no one’s ever been here before, but I know that’s a lie. Whatever history the bathroom has, I’ll never know.
That thought hits me hard when I step into the shower. The warm water feels good as it rinses away the layers of dirt and blood. I sigh and tilt my head backwards under the stream of water, letting it soak every lock of my hair, wiping away my own recent memories. The door to the hotel room creaks open suddenly and I freeze.
“Marcus?”
No response but I can hear approaching footsteps passing through the tiny kitchen beyond the bathroom door. By the time I clean the water out of my eyes, the shower curtain is ripped aside and I’m left staring an unfamiliar demon in the face.
13.
I SCREAM OUT and try to swipe at him but he dodges and my foot slips on the slick bottom of the bathtub. I grab the curtain for support but it tears from its frame easily u
nder my weight and I fall into the porcelain bowl, head smacking against the hard, white tiles. My vision swims as the demon smiles, staring down at me as if he’s pleased that I’m already down and out without him having to do a thing to cause it.
He takes a step over the edge of the bathtub, smiling to show off sharp, broken teeth. I try to stand up, fingers clenching into the edge of the tub, but the surface beneath me is too slippery for me to get a grip. The slightest movement causes my head to spin and before I know it, I’m back down again.
“Your kind disgusts me,” the demon snarls, curling his lip to reveal even more broken teeth.
“The feeling…is mutual,” I hiss back as soon as I catch a whiff of his breath.
Just then the door to the bathroom slams on its hinges and Marcus rushes across the room. I blink, and in that second, the demon is thrown across the room to where he hits the sink and slips to the floor. A stream of red leaks from a wound on the side of his head, staining the sink and floor with the substance. When he lands on the floor, he props himself up on his elbows and looks down at the red puddle beneath him before looking back up at Marcus.
Marcus doesn’t give him a chance to speak before he kicks him in the face. Then he’s on him, punching and punching until the demon is nothing but pulp and red liquid. I don’t say anything for the longest time. I just sit crouched in the tub against the wall, hand held over my mouth and shower curtain clutched tight around me as I watch the display. When Marcus finally stops hitting the other demon, he is breathing so heavily I can see each rise and fall of his shoulders.
He doesn’t turn to look at me as if he’s forgotten I’m there. In his state, I’m almost terrified of catching his attention but a squeaking sound fills the room and I realize it’s me.
“Marcus,” the squeaking noises finally say.
He turns to look at me and I take in a sharp breath of air through my teeth when I catch sight of the blood splattered across his face. Marcus’ eyes widen and he lifts his arm, smearing half of the droplets onto the skin on his arm before he stands and crosses the room to me. I don’t break eye contact as he drops to his knees by the edge of the tub.
“Talia, are you okay?” he asks at last then glances over his shoulder to the demon’s remains. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
I shake my head but I still find it hard to speak. He reaches out his hand and tries to help me stand to my feet when he catches sight of a smear of blood on the wall where I had been sitting. He stops and I do too, one leg inside the tub and one leg out, as I wait for him to speak.
“That’s your blood,” he says pointedly.
I bow my head, showing off the tender spot that had smashed into the wall. “I fell,” I explain and feel his fingers prodding at the skin around the wound. I hiss through my teeth and he pulls his hand back.
“Sorry,” he says and leads me back into the room, helping me sit on the edge of the bed before he turns around to head toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I ask, eyes wide with fear. What if he decides this is enough? What if he leaves and I’m stuck here, wounded, and in possession of a dead demon?
“Relax,” he says and I watch him scoop up a dress off the floor before he returns to my side. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I put on the clothing and Marcus helps me to dress the wound in my scalp. It’s odd how long it actually takes for either of us to bring up the dead demon in the bathroom but eventually it comes up again though my mind is so far gone, I can’t recall if it was me or Marcus to actually ease it into the conversation.
“Who was he?” I find myself asking.
Marcus risks a glance toward the bathroom and runs a hand through his hair. “He’s not one of the Old Demons but…he’s certainly older than most.”
“He knew we were here,” I say.
Marcus bobs his head. “No doubt. I wonder if some of these demons are more in tune with witches after their encounter with Shadow.” He pauses to consider his own words. “Our buddy in the bathroom was most likely a scout.”
I purse my lips. “A scout for what? Would they really send someone out to try and kill me? We’re supposed to be helping them, aren’t we?”
Marcus shrugs. “I have no idea what they’re thinking or planning. I’m just telling you what I think.”
I purse my lips and look at my hands in my lap. “Right.”
“Either way,” he says and rises to his feet, “I think we need to get the hell out of here before they realize he’s not coming back and decide to come looking for him.”
I nod and that’s the last words we say in the hotel room before we’re back outside. I blink and narrow my eyes as they strain against the morning light. The place looks different in the sunlight, homier like a place of wonder and possibilities rather than the darkness my coven had always told me existed on this side of the border.
We travel into the nearby line of trees without an ounce of hesitation and I peer over my shoulder at the town we’re leaving behind. “Shouldn’t we stock up on some supplies before traveling out here?” I ask warily.
Marcus dips his shoulder down and I catch sight of the strap of a backpack he has fastened there. In the haze of the intruder, I hadn’t noticed he had one. “I already got you covered. We have enough food and water to last us a week.”
“Will the trip take us that long?” I ask, feeling sicker with each footstep into the foliage we go. Here I had been concerned about a night when there’s a good chance I might never return.
Marcus shakes his head. “I doubt it but you never know.”
I nod, glad for his “better safe than sorry” mentality. I tuck my hands into fists at my sides and fall into step behind Marcus. He’s taller than me and though I can’t see the path ahead past him, I feel safer walking in his shadow, as if he can protect me simply by keeping me out of sight. That might be true for all I know.
The deeper into the woods we go, the colder it gets. Goosebumps raise up across my skin and I fold my arms over my chest, desperate to preserve every ounce of warmth I can manage.
Marcus stops and pulls his backpack off before tugging out a sweater and tossing it to me. I gratefully accept, pulling the warm fabric over myself. “Why is it so cold here?” I dare myself to ask.
Marcus shrugs. “It’s just the way they like it.”
“I thought Hell was hot.”
Marcus smiles. “Hell is all determined on perspective.”
“Fair enough.” It doesn’t seem like much time passes before the chill breaches my newest layer of clothes and I look at Marcus is envy. He’s still wearing just a t-shirt and I wonder how he manages it. For a little bit, I tell myself he’s lying, that he’s cold but he doesn’t want to seem weak in front of me, but his skin doesn’t form goosebumps and he never shivers.
He really isn’t cold and the thought both amuses and saddens me and I don’t understand myself. The way the sunlight peers through the trees casts Marcus into almost constant spotlights and I can’t take my eyes off of him. Demons are so similar to witches and so different. Marcus is so different from the way I’ve always pictured our rivals to look. He’s beautiful in an unearthly way and it took me until this moment to really realize that. My cheeks redden when he glances over his shoulder and catches my eyes on him.
He smiles and slows to match my pace. “You doing okay back here?”
I nod quickly and while the blush is on my face, I don’t meet his gaze. “Yeah, I was just…thinking.”
Amusement makes its way to his face. Is it possible that he knew what I had been thinking a moment sooner? “About?”
“How different demons and witches really are,” I muse.
He shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, yeah. We’re two different species. You wouldn’t expect a cat and dog to be the same, would you?”
“It’s different for us though. We’re from the same ancestors, aren’t we?”
“According to some people but the fact that no o
ne knows for sure means that anything is possible.” There’s a glint in his eyes when he says that.
For the rest of the day, I wonder what it means.
14.
WHEN THE SUN begins to fall, Marcus decides it’s time for dinner. He passes me a bottle of water that I down almost instantly and a handful of various granola bars and fruit. I’ve never been much of a healthy eater but in the moment, everything that touches my tongue tastes like pure bliss.
I pop the last bite of my granola bar in my mouth and wiggle against the rock I’ve been leaning on, hoping to find a better position to keep the wind off myself. Even Marcus finally gave into the cold and pulled on a sweatshirt. He downs a bottle of water but doesn’t eat anything. I watch him questioningly.
“Don’t you want to eat?” I ask at last.
He shrugs. “I don’t think I can bring myself to do it.”
I crumple the wrapper from my food in my first. “Nerves that bad?”
Marcus nods. “I’ve met the Old Demons once, when I was little, but from what I remember, they were terrifying.”
That’s something if it’s coming from a demon.
“Is there anything good about these guys?”
Marcus blinks and looks at me. “If you gain their trust, they’ll trust you fully for the rest of your life but getting to that point is so rare it barely ever happens.”
“And for me that chance is even smaller,” I say and blow a strand of hair from my eyes.
Marcus gives me an apologetic glance that I pretend I don’t see. I don’t have to be sorry for what I am, it’s not something I had any say in. If the Old Demons don’t like witches, they’re entitled to their thoughts. I can think of plenty of witches—of all ages—who would rather chew off their own foot than be in the company of a demon for longer than five minutes.
“We should get going,” I say and move to stand up but stop when I notice that Marcus isn’t doing the same.
“Let’s wait.”
