Page 14 of Eight Embers

“Never thought about the devil having toes. Always figured he had claws or something,” Jackson says as he scratches the side of his head. “Is he quite ticklish, then?”

Rush snorts. “He's incinerated people for less. So, there is our grand history. We were together, and then we were not. We were forced apart and cursed, now I guess we're both with the lady somehow. Strange how that worked out.”

Delaney stands up and walks around the room, pacing and chewing on one of her fingernails. “It is weird how we all sort of come together, isn't it? Does anybody ever wonder how much say we actually have in our lives? Are we just living some predetermined path?”

This is starting to head into deeper territory than I think any of us are prepared to handle right now. I do what I do best and redirect everybody. “It's been quite a day. Maybe we should all head to bed and let this all sink in. Everything always seems more desperate and vivid when you’re tired. I'm sure when we wake up, things will make more sense.”

I approach our collective mate with a hug, reading her reaction. “Even if I was tricked into being a part of your life, I wouldn't want anything else. I hope you know that.” I kiss her on the cheek before getting ready for bed, opting to sleep in a new room with a new guy instead of elbowing my way into a pile of bodies.

Chapter five

Delaney

“Who the fuck is banging on the door right now? Don't they know only psychopaths wake up before seven on the weekend?”

I pat the person I think just spoke on the face, going by direction of sound. If I accidentally grab a crotch instead, that's not my fault. Things are very confusing right when you wake up and have gotten very little sleep.

I spent the entire night with my thoughts stuck on crazy questions I'll never be able to answer, and now I have to get up and apparently be functional. That sucks.

I'm scared our visitors are going to pound again, so I tiptoe fast as I can to the front door, hoping it's somebody here trying to kill me because I'm definitely not awake enough to be social. 20 bucks says they don’t even want to talk to me and just have the wrong room.

With my sleeping mask as a headband, and my hair well, we won't talk about that— I open the door and glare at a very angry couple that are definitely poised to pound on my damn door again.

“Can I help you?” I croak.

The woman looks me up and down, making a face of disgust before covering her husband's eyes. Just assuming here, seeing as they're both dressed in the same bland garb and are wearing wedding rings.

“Cover yourself up,” the woman hisses.

“Lady, you're at my place, rudely banging on my door at an ungodly hour and —"

“Don't you dare invoke the gods with us. You have no right. I will ask you again. Cover yourself up.”

I mean, I'm wearing pajamas. Just because my cheeks are hanging out and the spaghetti straps are doing very little to hold up the boobies, doesn't mean I'm going to rush in and change for them. “No. How about you tell me why you're waking me up and being judgy as hell in the process. And then maybe go on about who you are.”

The woman grabs the sleeping mask off of my head, ripping some hairs off in the process so she can place it on her husband's head very carefully to cover his eyes better. I straighten my spine, mind made up about how much respect I feel like giving these people.

“We've come here to secure an engagement for our son. It is our understanding that you humiliated and compromised him. You ruined his value, and no one else will want him now. If you don't take him, he's completely untouchable. All so you could have a moment of fun, I suppose. I hope you're happy with yourself.”

I try to open my mouth and say something, I really do, but the problem is laughter comes out instead. “My brother put you up to this, didn't he?” I wheeze, stomach cramping from the sudden burst of hysteria. “Very good. Veryverygood. Thank you. Enjoy your day.”

I spin around to grab the doorknob, seeing as I closed it behind us to keep anybody else from waking, but she grabs my arm.

Maybe later I'll feel bad about karate chopping her in the neck for that action, but probably not. When you're raised by a bunch of assassins, you tend to be a little bit in the, ‘throat-punch-now-ask-questions-later’ camp.

The lady starts wheezing and making obnoxious sounds like I actually hurt her or something, and her doting husband rips off the eye mask that they stole from me after really creepily inhaling the smell on it, checking on his wife. “What did you do to her?”

I shrug. “Nothing she didn’t ask for. She shouldn’t have touched me.”

I take my sleeping mask back and tie it around my wrist like a bracelet, unwilling to let them have it because I love this one. I'll definitely wash it before I put it back on my face, but there’s no way in hell they’re waking me up and stealing from me before I’m even caffeinated.

“I can see what kind of conduits they're raising here,” the woman spits out between breaths. “No respect, no intention. Just running around ruining sweet, innocent children.”

“Woah, I have not had any interactions with any children, I would like that to be clear and on the record. Also, the only people I have compromised are people I’m currently very attached to,” I state, indicating my marked-up arms. “I don't know who you're getting your sources from—”

The woman gasps, and the guy now semi-crouched behind her shakes horrendously. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“Perhaps you can tell me who your son is, and we can start there. You're flinging accusations and I really don't appreciate it. I have never harmed somebody willinglyorintentionally. You are impugning my character right now and I'm about to have a bunch of very pissed off men in the hall to deal with you if you don't hurry this up. You don't like dealing with me? I promise you won't like dealing with my mates even more.”

---