Page 25 of Whispers From The Dark

“Here, take my chair. I’m done anyway,” Sam says, and I make myself comfortable at the desk. “You meet the boss yet?”

“Uh, yeah. Melody seems really⁠—”

Sam cuts me off, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think it was a bit rude. “No, the owner. I guess he’s filthy rich, must be to own this place and Sanguivita, and I hear he likes to do…favors.”

At this, both mine and Az’s hackles rise. Not everyone knows about the supernatural underworld, so I’m not sure if Sam understands what he speaks of. Either way, it makes me nervous. If word is spreading that Asmodeus does favors, it can’t be a good thing.

“Yeah, I’ve met him. Kind of arrogant.”

“Bah.”

“Well,” Sam begins, glancing toward the door, and that’s the first time I notice the frown lines between his eyes. He’s aged faster than me, and I can see why. He wrings his hands, for god’s sake.

A resigned sigh within my mind almost makes me smile, but then I think about what it must be like for Asmodeus. Are all of his interactions only about granting favors?

“Nearly,” Az answers, reminding me once again that my thoughts are not my own.

“What’s wrong, Sam?” His face relaxes. Like he’s been needing to share his burden, and he’s eager to finally do so.

“Between you and me, Pet, I owe some money to some bad people. I’m hoping if I make a good impression, the owner will give me a…loan.”

The way he hesitates tells me he knows exactly what Asmodeus is and what it would mean for him to get a loan from a demon like him.

“You sure it’s worth it?” I ask, lifting my brows.

“Yeah, I mean, they know where I live. Where Charlotte lives. It’s worth it.”

At this, Asmodeus takes over, icing me out. Somehow, he tucks me away in a corner of my mind, and I’m unable to see or hear anything.

It fucking enrages me.

I can’t be sure if time continued in the same straight line or if I was in my mind for a long time, but Sam is gone when I have control of my body again.

“What the fuck, Az? You can’t just tuck me away like that. You have to let me watch. How am I supposed to⁠—”

He cuts me off, ignoring every single question or concern I have. “I’ll be back, love,” Asmodeus says before unceremoniously leaving my body as an intangible black cloud. It makes me feel strange. Empty, almost.

This must be what Stockholm Syndrome feels like.

Later, when I get home and see Betty’s grocery delivery on the stoop outside our building, I pause. Normally, I’d move them to sit in front of her apartment door. She’s still got some pep in her step, so bringing in the groceries isn’t that hard on her, but I’m sure it’s easier when I bring them in. It’s a kindness I perform for no fucking reason, and now I’m pissed all over again because of what what she said to me earlier. I’m not going to do it.

I unlock the glass door, and in a fit of something that doesn’t feel quite like me, I kick my foot backward, knocking a bag full of fruit down the steps. I don’t look back when I hear it burst on the sidewalk.

Take that, Betty.

A shriek tears up my throat as I step inside, and a blur of yellow and blue bursts through the doors behind me, blocking my access to the stairs. There’s a vampire standing in my way. One who was furious the last time she saw me. Instinctively, I take a few steps back, thinking about running. But a vampire is probably like any other predator with a high prey drive. If I run, I’m giving her something to chase.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, relax. I’m not even mad about it,” Margot says, arms crossed. My relief is palpable. I have nothing against vampires, but I’d be stupid not to be worried that one might want to kill me. “Love the boots, babe.”

I don’t let down my guard.

“Hi, Margot.”

I’m not sure if Margot wants to question me about what happened, but I shiver as I head toward the stairs. I want to be inside my apartment where there’s heat.

“I need your help,” she says.

“Me?” The second I say it, I feel stupid. Who else would she be talking to?