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“A what?”
“A type of demon. Bigger and stronger than the ones you’ve seen thus far. Extremely rare for one to be seen on Earth.”
“You killed it, right?”
“We haven’t located it yet.”
I hugged myself as I eyed the alley suspiciously. “Meaning it could be close by.”
“If it is, I will handle it. But I doubt we need to worry. It’s daytime.”
“Are they like vampires and the sun melts them?”
“No. But it does ruin their fog camouflage.”
“Wait, you mean the sun makes it so people can see them?” Nova had said something about daylight the day before, but I hadn’t really clued in.
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
“Not really, because they know better than to expose themselves during the day. We should get inside before people wonder why you’re talking to thin air.”
My lips pinched. “You know, I only have your word you’re actually invisible.”
“Then don’t believe me. Don’t care.”
“Guess it’s too late to turn around.” I eyed the gaping doorway with trepidation.
“There is nothing that will harm you inside.”
“Better not be or I will be pissed!” I stomped inside, only to stop dead at the destruction. Not a single shelf remained intact in the storage room. Every single one had been smashed, the contents strewn on the floor. I picked my way carefully across the perilous floor where sharp shards of glass abounded. I made it to the store itself and sucked in a breath.
Everything had been smashed. Plates and cups, broken. Pots and pans, dented. The window to the store busted. The cash register on the floor and in pieces.
“Where’s the message?” I asked as Cain loomed at my back. I didn’t see any paper with writing, and the walls showed no signs of anything written.
“Look up,” he murmured.
My head rolled back, and my jaw dropped. On the ceiling, in what seemed to be shit and blood, two words had been painted. Two scary fucking words.
Find Sadie.
13
I freely admit I didn’t take the message on the ceiling well, hence why I whirled and punched Cain in the gut. The fucker didn’t flinch, and so I resorted to yelling.
“Why the fuck would you bring me to see this?”
He frowned at the ceiling with its gruesome note. “Because demons don’t write.”
“Then who wrote it?”
“Demons.”
Confusion had me blinking. “I don’t understand.”
“Demons are usually mindless killing machines. They come, they kill, they die. They don’t usually have a motive, and they most certainly don’t write anything legible. Meaning this is something deeper than just a portal releasing some demons to cause mischief.”
