Page 39 of Demon Hunger
The card also contained a phone number, an email address, a website, and an Instagram account.
“Nice,” Jenna said.
“We set everything up to look legit. There’s over a year’s worth of history on the blog and the Instagram account with plenty of pictures, in case Kody decides to check.
I slipped the cards into the inside pocket of my jacket.
Next, Drevan produced an envelope. “This contains the invitation to the L.A. contest, as well as hotel reservations, plane tickets, and a stipend. As we discussed, we don’t have to give him any of this unless you think attending the competition will help us redeem him, so find out as much as you can about him before offering him the opportunity.”
Nodding, I took the envelope and stored it along with the business cards.
Looking serious, he added, “I’ll be there the entire time, even if you can’t see me. Also, there are others on the lookout, like before.”
“Jophiel can still show up and make a mess, like before,” Jenna put in.
Drevan thought for a moment. “The way he’s acting…” he shook his head. “I don’t understand. It’s like he’s desperate, like…” His eyes lifted to mine and he looked at me strangely.
“Well,” Jenna said, “youhaveredeemed two subjects already, and that’s fast compared to the last time, right?”
“Certainly, we have.” Drevan agreed, though I got the feeling this wasn’t what he’d been thinking about. There was something else going on that he wasn’t sharing. “That must be what is driving Jophiel crazy, so let’s take care of Kody now and drive Jophiel up the wall.”
Ten minutes later, we stopped in front of a narrow apartment building. It was painted red with black trim and sandwiched between two other similar buildings. Fire escape ladders crisscrossed over the front and a store with signs written in Chinese occupied the bottom floor. We got out of the limousine, which, like before, no one noticed.
“This is the place,” Drevan said. “Ring for apartment 309. He’s home and getting ready to shoot one of his videos.”
“No time to waste.” Jenna charged up the side door and rang the bell.
Kody’s voice came over the speaker a couple of minutes later.
“Hello, Kody. Jenna and Lucia here. We met a couple of weeks ago. We’re from the LDH Magazine. Remember us?”
“Oh, oh, oh.” He seemed flustered for a moment, then he exclaimed, “Jenna and Lucia!” A buzzer sounded, followed by a click as the door opened for us. “Come in! Come in!”
Jenna shrugged. “Well, that was easy.”
We climbed up two flights of stairs. The walls looked as if they had been painted a hundred times over. The wooden stairs were scuffed, and the railing was rickety. As we reached his floor, we spotted Kody at the end of the hall to our right. When he noticed us, he started waving frantically. We passed several closed doors before reaching his apartment.
“Jenna and Lucia.” He bowed respectfully, a huge smile on his face. He seemed genuinely happy to see us. “Please, come on in.”
We stepped into a small living room. It was modestly furnished, organized, and spotless. A delicious smell wafted through the air. My stomach rumbled in response.
“I am so excited you’re here.” Kody pressed his hands together as if in prayer. “The article you wrote about me was just…” His hands waved in the air as he searched for the word.
Jenna and I exchanged a glance. We could only assume thatDrevan’s peoplehad put something on the fake website. How thorough. But why hadn’t he told us about it? We could have read it. Now, instead, we were blindsided.
“Hmm, it smells amazing.” Jenna lifted her nose, clearly trying to drive the conversation in a different direction.
“Oh, thank you. I just finished cooking a few things. Would you like to join me?”
“Sure would.”
“One second.” He put a finger up in the air, then disappeared to the left.
As if on cue, a door to the right opened, and a woman in her mid-sixties appeared. She had shoulder-length gray hair and sharp dark eyes that immediately honed in on us.
“Oh, I don’t know Kody have visitors. Apologies.”
—Kody’s mother, Drevan said inside my head.Forgot to mention they live together.
