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He can see them; the fallen angels were made from the first glittering milk of the cosmos.
In the palace bath, I came so close to kissing him.
Lauren?iu wishes he did.
Paimon uses as much of the hotel soap as he can, scrubbing deep circles between his shoulder blades.
That eases all the tension from Lauren?iu’s muscles.
The demon king takes an empty, plastic Waffle Duke cup he must’ve taken and soothes hot water through Lauren?iu’s hair.
How many times has he done this for Paimon? This is only fair, the king kneeling beside him and preparing to dampen and lather his hair.
Then, slowly, deliberately, Paimon washes the blood out of Lauren?iu’s hair.
He tries to remember the last time somebody has touched him so gently, his time with Anthony, but it’s a steamy, sleepy, motel-after-midnight blur.
As Paimon’s heat and the water cocoon him, Lauren?iu fiddles with the unblemished crystal beneath the hollow of his throat.
After, he sits in the bed in a clean, blood-red robe Paimon got for him. It’s very warm, like him.
Paimon comes to sit beside him, and still in his daze, Lauren?iu can’t help but feel as if they’ve been through something more intimate than a kiss.
He can’t tell if this isn’t him, if he’s leaving his body like he would at the hospital, or if this is him. The truest he’ll ever be.
Paimon tells him, a wave toward the disturbed sheets, where Daisy gazes curiously while wagging her tail, “Come, you might need to lie down, right? Maybe an hour and two.”
“You’re sure the police won’t come by then? Or the anti-reanimation people?”
“This place is pretty dead, no pun intended. I don’t think we need to worry until morning.”
“I don’t know if I can sleep.” He wants to dosomething. Change into a bat or a bird and fly.
To his surprise, when he lies down, he immediately sleeps. Must have been the cozy bath.
A hand on his shoulder gently wakes him up.
Raspily, as his voice always does when he speaks lowly, Paimon says, “Let’s keep on, in case anyone starts asking questions.”
Once the first hint of sun creeps through the curtains, the three of them leave the motel silently.
With Paimon’s tricks, they leave Terminus through another exit point and, under Daisy’s guidance, head north.
Chapter 10
Lauren?iu
Through the foggy morning on a near-empty highway, Lauren?iu can’t help the constant feeling of being followed.
Within two or so hours, they’re in North Georgia, where despite the hefty amount of guns, most of this lonely highway with the abandoned vehicles and gas stations are rife with reanimated persons who shamble and only regard them with passing curiosity before walking along or munching on a headless deer carcass. Even the Waffle Dukes they pass are dead, hashbrown-gold and cherry-red lights shut off. The misty ruin fills him with melancholy.
The thrill of his recent feeding, the rejuvenation, combats his usual sluggishness during the day. Despite it being a new morning, everything is gray, the thick clouds swollen to black, like it’s always ready to rain.
Admittedly, he loves that, if he ever is in need, Paimon will be terrible and evil for him, if he can’t properly manage it himself. Before...before Anthony’s husband staked him, he could only rely on himself, so he started to make his loneliness and self-reliance into strength. If he could only rely on himself, he must be the best. Clever. Dangerous. If he ever started to rely on anybody else, it must be because he’s gotten weak.
Eventually, they’d betray him.
Now, it’s a relief. If they’re in peril, Paimon can step in. It’s not all on his shoulder anymore. Finally, he can rely on another monster, someone who wouldn’t balk if he spoke about how he escaped the hospital. How he slaughtered an entire hospital ward after years of suppression and starvation.
