Page 43 of Shadow & Stars
That demon laughter helped galvanize me. I loathed bullies, anyone who kicked someone when they were down. It made me want to give them the smackdown, to wipe smiles from faces, snuff out the smugness. Make them see they were the scum, not me.
Good. This was good. But first, I needed some help. And I knew who to approach first.
Keeping my fingers crossed for the best outcome, I walked away to the sounds of laughter, stepping into a room with a giant computer screen shaped like a tree. A demonic CCTV system, as Xavier said, showing many areas of the demon realm. Not that it meant anything to me. I had no clue how to navigate this place without a map or the demon I loved.
What I did have was the ability to walk through walls.
And so, I did, my tears hot and wild again. I passed through a strange, shimmering darkness until I stepped out into heavy rain in the middle of a residential street.
Back on Earth, Butterfly’s dust falling with the rain.
I wiped my tears with my sleeve, drawing a deep breath. Where was I? Still in England? The architecture looked like it might be, but I wasn’t exactly an expert on those things.
Man, the rain came down hard, soaking me through to the bone in no time. Great. Can’t touch or be touched, but open to a drenching. Hmmm.
Must mean I wasn’t dead, right?
Sniffling, I wrapped my arms around myself against the cold and to hide the dagger in my chest. Parked cars choked the street, some warm-looking homes boasting small driveways. It was like one long car dealership showing off its variety of automobiles.
Smoke curled from chimneys, most windows glowing with light behind closed curtains. God only knew what time it was. Possibly early evening.
I missed my dagger and Skele—my device for picking locks. And my phone. Not that I’d be able to use any of them in this state. At least, I assumed so.
I kept to the path, ready to dive into a garden to hide from any walkers braving the rain. But I saw no one, only a few cars driving past.
Alone. Shivering. Craving a pitstop to sort my head out and sharpen my focus.
Near the end of the street, as it curved to the right, I noticed three of the houses were boarded up. Metal sheets covered the windows and doors.
Bingo. This is where I’d crash.
I chose the first house, pausing as I clocked the number. 51, the same as my grandma’s house.
Blinking free some tears brought on by my grandma’s memory, I checked for any watchers then slipped through the front door into warm, dry darkness.
“Who the fuck are you?” a man demanded.
Shit. I wasn’t alone.
13
XAVIER
Ishot awake in the dark, sucking in a sharp breath.
“Roman?” I gasped, my throat burning.
Darkness surrounded me, shafts of moonlight beaming through the window. There were no curtains, yet to be put up, the entire house waiting to become a home.
My house in Mile End, East London. A wonderful property beside the Regent’s Canal I’d called home for the past ten years. Until Tanith chased me out of it, capturing me along with her silver-dressed humans to torture The Word out of me with Lemon Drop. Lemons were repugnant to me, the ancient concoction of Lemon Drop their worst iteration.
“Roman?” I spoke into the dark, the fire in my throat ebbing. “Are you here?”
Why was I here?
“Roman?”
My arm was no longer broken.
