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“I don’t believe you.”
Paimon snaps, losing his glamor.
Though they keep their expression as steady as they can, their eyes do widen slightly, unsettled but fascinated.
“What are the rules?” Adrian asks.
“Mostly, don’t make things harder for us.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Hmph. More sarcasm. Wonderful.”
Adrian retorts, “You’re being sarcastic right now.”
“Ugh.”
Adrian and Daisy sit in the back of the car. Though Daisy sniffs Adrian’s hand in curiosity, Adrian doesn’t acknowledge the dog, curling their legs and pressing against the passenger door, staring out the window.
Lauren?iu’s mind drifts when Paimon doesn’t talk, which is unusual. Unlike Lauren?iu, the demon king doesn’t usually get exhausted after a few hours of socializing. Or killing, which for them has become something of a bonding activity. In fact, after court is when Paimon wants to chat the most.
For now, he seems content to sit and contemplate. Again, rare, but Lauren?iu isn’t sure if he should interrupt.
He may not know how to admit it, but he likes when Paimon talks because, as conflicted as Lauren?iu can be about their relationship, their talks keep him from dwelling on darker topics.
Then again, sometimes, he likes dwelling. There’s adrenaline in anger, in righteous indignation.
He owes the world to forgive and move on, but what about what the world owes him? He should sacrifice his anger and pain, when he’d been made a sacrifice who died, and then died again. How dare anyone think that he’ll die a third time?
Even those cannibals, who dared treat him like prey. He feeds, not the other way around. they can’t do anything to him that hasn’t happened before. no hurt can rattle him again.
Even technically dead, he’ll live, and everyone who opposes him will die, and that’ll be victory.
He loves killing, so he’ll kill everyone on Earth if he has to, if he can’t ever get his true revenge.
If.
No. He must kill Anthony, first and foremost.
He must finish what they started.
As if reading his thoughts, Paimon interrupts, “Do you ever think about keeping score.”
“Keeping score of what?” asks Lauren?iu.
“Our kills. Before the cannibals, we’ve already killed two people.”
“Three,” Adrian corrects.
“Right,” Paimon adds, “Technically, before the cannibals, we’ve killed three people between us in about twenty-four hours. Oh, sorry Adrian, I think the one you killed was a cannibal, so that doesn’t count.
“I’m heartbroken,” Adrian replies. “I’ll have to be more prolific going forward, then.”
Already, despite knowing little about them, they feel like a part of this journey. This...whatever the word for it is.
Paimon sets his palms behind his head. “Maybe we can make it to ten today. Or fifteen! Wouldn’t that be exciting? I enjoy hitting milestones. It’s never fun to be so close to a healthy round number.”
The pre-dawn highway is lonely. Darker than it’d be before the reanimation plague, with overgrown purple and yellow wildflowers rising tall and imperious on all sides.
