Page 124
I locked the door, checked the deadbolt twice, and refused to think about the missing couch.
A person should get a mourning period for furniture. Mine had witnessed horrors, held my body through several breakdowns, and died in service of demon dick.
Rest in pieces, you ugly beige bastard.
My phone buzzed before I reached the stairs.
NO FACE: Try to eat something other than chicken nuggets and caffeine today.
The little demon glyph beside the contact pulsed once.
NO FACE: You fed for the first time. Your body is burning through energy. Eat.
“Absolutely not.”
Sam stopped beside me. “What?”
NO FACE: Protein. Sugar. Water. Avoid touching anyone skin-to-skin until I see you.
Sam’s brows climbed. “Is that him?”
“No.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me to eat.”
Sam blinked. “That is weirdly responsible.”
Sam read over my shoulder because boundaries had apparently died with my couch. “Until I see you?”
“I am throwing this phone into traffic.”
NO FACE: Use the crosswalk.
Sam made a sound so close to a scream I clamped my hand over her mouth again. “Wait, is he watching us?”
I shrugged. “Probably.”
Her eyes went wide.
My hand shot up. “Don’t.”
She frowned and glanced around. “That’s not creepy at all?”
“Creepy or devoted?” I teased.
“Don’t let smut brain turn this into one of your messed up romances.” She grimaced. “It’s creepy.”
“It’s kinda hot,” I mumbled. I shoved the phone into my hoodie pocket and started walking again. New Abaddon moved around us like nothing had happened. Except now every person we passed carried a little charge. Irritation. Hunger. Want. Exhaustion. It brushed against my skin in flashes of hot energy, each a little different from the last.
New Abaddon City Coffee came into view at the end of the block, the green sign buzzing above the door.
Sam’s face changed.
I slowed. “What?”
Silence.
