Page 81 of Demon Apathy: Sunderverse
I thought of texting Dani, but if she had her hands full with an injured demon, she wouldn’t have time for text messages—not to mention that she was probably mad at me for inviting troubles into her life.
Feeling anxious, I changed into a pair of flannel pajamas and a loose T-shirt and got into bed, cell in hand. I’d started drifting into sleep when the phone vibrated. I checked it in a hurry and felt a measure of relief as I read the message.
Khargon will be all right. Thank you.
I put the phone away, unsure of how to feel about this. Khargon hated me. I had no doubt about it. Though I figured that was no reason to wish her ill. She’d never done me any harm. Stares couldn’t kill, after all. Still, I’d put my sister's life in danger to save a demon that meant nothing to me. And I’d done it for Drevan. Conflicting emotions swirled in my chest.
A vision of the gargoyle hurling toward us kept playing behind my closed eyelids—the hideous face with its two-inch fangs, large and concave pointed ears, scrunched up snout… and that humanoid body with its large hands and feet tipped with terrible talons. And let’s not forget the wings, leathery and veined, tendons exposed since there were no feathers to hide them.
Was that Khargon’s true shape? Something told me it was. And if she looked like that... What could I expect from a prince of Hell?
It took me nearly an hour to finally fall asleep. When my alarm went off at 6 AM, I would’ve liked to say I felt rested, but nightmares of hideous, stalking monsters plagued my dreams.
The rest of the week passed in relative calm. I resumed my studying schedule, feeling great satisfaction as I checked things off myto-dolist. I’d never been one to keep track of my tasks, but Jenna had introduced me to journaling and to the amazing satisfaction of using a colorful pen to mark off my accomplishments.
I had a few text messages from Drevan, reporting that Khargon had recovered and that they were coming up with a plan to exert pressure on Solar by using Richie. Then Friday, when I’d just finished practicing the moves our Quelling professor had shown us, and I was wiping sweat off my forehead with a towel, a new text message arrived.
We’re nearly done with our plan. Expect details on what to do next.
I huffed, setting the phone down.
“Is something the matter?” Jenna placed her wooden sword in the rack and picked up a towel from the shelves that lined up the training classroom. Straight black hair swung around her face. Her bob had grown a little longer, and it looked very cute on her.
“It’s nothing, just Drevan. I’m afraid his world-saving plan is about to clash with my very important schedule.”
She smirked. “How dare he?”
“Right?”
It was partly true, but what was really bothering me was the terse nature of Drevan’s messages. He never asked how I was doing, never allowed anything personal to transpire.
She wiped her face and sat on one of the benches that were pushed against the wall. Some of our classmates were still finishing their sparring combinations, their wooden swords whistling through the air.
Jenna pointed at Sage as he swirled the prop-sword over his head. “He’s good, isn’t he?”
I nodded, then noticed Professor Cruz giving Regina Becker some pointers. She had horrible posture and held the sword as if she were afraid her expensive manicure would get chipped. I smirked, and when she caught me looking, she made no effort to hide her utter dislike for me.
Professor Cruz paced around the room, observing everyone, hands behind his back. When he passed by, he nodded and said, “Good job, Ms. Sunder.”
“What about me?” Jenna huffed.
I shrugged.
Professor Howard Cruz was an interesting character. He was a dapper man who dressed in an old-fashioned way. He had salt and pepper hair and beard, smoked a pipe, and wore a super cool leather trench coat over his demon hunter uniform. He’d been at Grand Central Station the day Drevan possessed me, which was when I’d witness his ready-for-action flare. Right now, he was wearing a pinstripe suit with an honest-to-god silk cravat. I liked him, plus he was a badass with the sword.
“Hey, take a look at this.” Jenna had pulled out a notebook and torn out a page for me to peruse.
It was a color-coordinated checklist that included the items we would need for tomorrow’s summoning.
She handed me a pen. “If I’m missing something, write it down.”
I went over the list, making sure she’d written chalk, salt, candles, matches, and trammel heads. “It looks good.”
“Sage made the reservations,” she whispered. “Some place in Brooklyn with suites that have a kitchen and living room. I hope he didn’t go cheap on us, and it’s too small.”
“Sounds good,” I said, quickly putting the list away in my bag.
“I’m so excited!” Jenna grinned and ran her feet in place.
