Trick or Treat for the Desperate Devil
Page 54
“No.”
“Owen.”
“Nope.”
“You haven't even heard—”
“You asked me here to kill you. Answer's no.”
“I didn't ask you to do it now.”
“Oh. Well, that makes it much more reasonable.”
He takes another bite.
Fucking Werewolves.
“My Devil is taking over.”
“That explains the wings.”
I glare. Owen chews.
“And the tail.”
“Owen.”
“And you're looking a little red around the edges.”
“I hate you.”
“Feeling's mutual.”
He steals one of my fries. I slap his hand away.
“This is serious.”
His amusement fades.
“I know.”
I lean back.
“My grandmother's spells aren't holding anymore. The tea barely helps. I'm not sleeping. I'm losing time.”
His eyes sharpen.
“How much?”
“Minutes.”
That's the part I haven't told anyone.
Not even Grandmother.
“I'll be somewhere, and then suddenly I'm somewhere else.”
Owen puts his burger down.
