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I suck in a long breath and attempt to shake off the psychic attack. “She’s warded herself from us.”
“She what?!” Rhygel roars, not because he didn’t hear or understand me, but because we’d thoroughly vetted Lily beforehand. She has no knowledge of the supernatural—demons, witchcraft, or otherwise.
“How could she have found a witch so fast?” Rhygel paces the living area.
“I don’t know.” But now our only option was to hope Mal and Ty came back with good news.
Chapter11
Lily
After Eden drops me off at the condo—on her way to her self-described “dick appointment”—my adrenaline levels bottom out and I’m left alone on the verge of a mental breakdown.
Demons were in my head doing whatever they wanted with my body for who knows how long. But before I get too squicked out by that thought, my brain decides to pile on by conjuring the image of my mom’s frail body lying in that hospital bed.
Tears sting the back of my eyes.
And then, as if my consciousness says,If that hurts, you’ll really like this,I remember that I also have to find a new job.
Fuck.
This shit is too much.
So, I do what any sane person would.
I ignore it all and crawl into bed, hoping that when I wake the world won’t seem so overwhelming. And I take the slightest bit of solace in not setting an alarm. People without a timecard to punch don’t need to bother with such things.
My eyes drift closed to thoughts of those voices in my head. The smoothness of one. The rugged sexual appeal of another. The happiness in still another. And the sorrow in the last.
I wake at the witching hour—at least according to the horror movies I saw in my youth. Three am was when all the spooky stuff, like cabinets opening and covers flying off, happened. And apparently, it’s also when I’m jolted awake by a strange pressure in my skull.
I reach for one of the glasses on my side table, take a sip of water, and press the heels of my hands to my forehead. It’s not quite a headache. Not really. It’s more like needing to pop my ears, but in my head. I rummage around in the drawer from some ibuprofen, pop a few, and head to the bathroom for a washcloth. My mom would always put a cool washcloth over my eyes whenever I felt sick or had a fever. I don’t know if it does anything, but it’s still my go-to any time I’m under the weather.
I wring out the cloth, glance at myself in the mirror and freeze.
The color drains from my face as my eyes travel the length of the ghostly horns superimposed on my forehead.
Two spiraling horns twist out of my forehead into a Y shape at least a foot high in exactly the places I’d just rubbed.
I touch the spot and feel only smooth skin and hair, but the aberrations remain.
Right. More second sight bullshit, I presume. I glance at the dangling snake charm around my neck.
“Not as good as you thought you were, huh?” I say to it and head back to bed, pressing the washcloth to my invisible horns.
As my head touches the pillow, I decide to call Claudia tomorrow and ask for a stronger necklace.
My lids are about to fall closed when I jerk fully awake, like I’d missed that step that I only ever miss right before falling asleep.
I’d looked it up once. Hypnagogic jerk.
Except this isn’t that.
My foot hadn’t moved.
No, I jerked awake because of the voice in my head begging me to let them explain.
Please, Lily. Our situation is dire. You’re our only hope. Allow me to plead my case.
