Page 58 of Sweet Violence
I watched him leave, my chest crushed and hurting, my stomach whirling like a washing machine. I didn't know what to do. I knew what Iwanted—and what I was absolutely terrified of.
I didn't believe him. That's what it came down to. There had to be a catch, no matter how sincere he sounded. Everyone had an ulterior motive. I just hadn't uncovered the devil's yet.
18
Chances were this was about to get me killed.
But hey, nothing in life came easy. And at least I'd get a bit of fun and murder along the way.
I kept my footsteps light as I headed down the tall, echoey corridor, my backpack slung over my shoulder and my mood flying from excited to miserable to furious with myself and back again. I knew I was sabotaging probably the only good things to happen to me, but I was freaked out and Dev was right. This was fear. But knowingwhydidn't stop me from powering ahead.
It was like watching a car crash, unable to look away, but I was insidethe car watchingmyselfdrive at full-speed towards a semi-truck.
I slowed when my path carried me past the throne room, voices audible from within—Taj and the devil. His dad.
Man, that was still weird.
"I'm going with her," Taj said in a steely voice.
"Absolutely not," Dev growled, his voice thunderous enough to tell me he was in giant form, probably looming on his throne. "You're too recognisable. Those demons will take one look at you and know I sent you. I'd be risking both your life and my babygirl's."
Oh. He called me that even to other people?
Huh.
"What if she goes on her own and something goes wrong?" Taj seethed, raising the hairs on my arms. "She needs someone with her. They'll slaughter her. Theyeathumans, Dad. You know sending her alone is insanity."
"Your mate will slaughter all ofthem," Dev disagreed. "You haven't seen the glory she's capable of. Two hundred demons, taken out in one beautifully violent night…"
Right, that was my cue to leave. I increased my speed, tipping my head at the guards on the throne doors, half expecting them to grab me and haul me back. But they stood like statues as I passed, slipping out the main doors at the end of the hall and giving the purple guards a dirty look for ignoring me before.
I hadn't had a chance to look at the map and directions Dev packed into my bag—without asking my permission, the helpful jerk—but I pulled them out now and was so happy to find my path led me into a dark, scary forest andnotacross the sand-plagued mountains that I pumped my fist.
"Bring on the forest monsters," I said gleefully, walking down the slope towards the castle gates and scanning the map for more specifics. "Bring on the scary, ominous rustle of leaves. Bring on the curses and abandoned cottages, and witches with big cauldrons for cooking people."
Not that witches were real. Magic existed, but it was demonic in origin, and mostly fire and manipulation. Flying would have been cool, though. Imagine zipping through the sky on a bright pink broom, scattering fairy dust and sparkles on everyone's heads.
The witch hunts would be less cool, but I could handle myself. Anyone who tried to hurt my fellow witches would get stabbed in the throat.
Footsteps scuffed the ground behind me and I sucked in a short breath, spinning to find the shed-sized purple guard I scowled at jogging after me.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," I growled, throwing my hands up. "What do you want?"
I was surprised when hespoke, instead of stoically scowling. "You're supposed to have a guard with you."
"Aren't you a door guardy person? Won't they miss you? Y'know, onthedoor?"
The expression on his rough, purple face flattened and he adjusted the giant, spiked club holstered to his back like a sword. "Do you always talk so much?"
"Oh, yeah," I answered, gesturing with my chin for him to follow as I resumed walking, a little pep in my step. I sensed this guy was exceptionally easy to wind up, and annoying people was one of my favourite hobbies. This was gonna be fun.
"You've gotsomuch conversation to look forward to. Tell me, demon to girl, what's your favourite shade of nail polish?"
The demon heaved a great sigh, shoving big hands into the pockets of brown leather trousers. A matching vest made of brown leather covered his barrel chest. He had a very Gladiator vibe going, and it worked for him. He should think about a nude polish; anything bright and colourful would clash with his outfit.
"Mine," I told him with relish, stomping through the field that met us at the bottom of the cliff the fortress lurked atop, grasses swaying in a light wind that smelled of saccharine sweetness and copper, "is a polish called High Heel Pavement. It's grey, almost a charcoal colour but nottoodark, with a bit of glimmer in it. Black can be too harsh sometimes, you know?"
"I do not," Mr. Guard sighed.
