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Dastien wrapped his arm around my shoulders. Just a little bit more. Then rest.
I knew it wasn’t far away, but I wanted all this drama with Luciana over. Now. I wanted to start my life with him. And I didn’t want any more curve balls thrown at me.
But we still had the fight in the church to look forward to. I just hoped the New Mexico coven came through before that happened. If my vision could be avoided, that would be amazing.
For once, I wanted something to be easy, but there was no way a fight with Luciana was going to be anything other than horrible.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The room smelled like a mixture of piss, mildew, and pizza. The first two made it difficult to eat the pizza, but after a brutally hot shower, even with the overwhelming stench, I’d managed to eat two all by myself—which was a lot, even for a Were. As I ate, the wolf slowly settled back down. At least that was one worry scratched off the list.
The potions brewing in the bathtub added to the general funk. We’d adjusted batches two and six, and were hoping they’d do more damage this time.
Batches one, three through five, and seven through ten had worked well enough on the major demon at my parents’ house, so we made more using the same recipe.
Now we were on dinner break. Cosette had potion-stirring duty in the bathroom while the rest of us took turns looking up churches in the yellow pages. Who knew hotels still had phonebooks?
We narrowed the options down to five spots to check tomorrow. Scrying for Luciana was still a bust, and we didn’t want to go anywhere blind in the dark. Everyone had agreed that if we had to go up against another demon, we wanted to do it in daylight. And hopefully the witch would be in contact with us by morning.
“Ugh! What are we watching?” Meredith chucked a packet of Parmesan cheese at Adrian. “Change the channel.”
We’d all
crammed into one room, everyone sitting where they could find space on beds, chairs, and the floor. Dastien and I sat on a towel on the floor between the beds, mostly because I refused to sit on the carpet. It was a deep brown, with very short, bristly fibers, and it smelled. Bad. Plus there were mystery spots all over it. There was no way I wanted to risk getting a vision from it. This place would be a minefield if I wasn’t careful.
Meredith complained about the TV again, and I sat up taller, so I could see around the crowd. I’d been so concerned about stuffing my face that I hadn’t taken the time to check what they were watching. “Oh my God.” I hit Dastien’s shoulder. “What are they watching?”
“See,” Meredith said. “Tessa doesn’t want to watch it either.”
I would’ve sworn that the TV was older than me. The snow-filled picture flickered in and out. I tried to make out the action but couldn’t. “No. Seriously. Are they having sex or killing each other? I’m going cross-eyed trying to follow it.” The noises and movements could’ve been either.
“I can’t tell,” Shane said. “That’s why we stopped on this channel.”
“And it was the only channel that wasn’t talking about the pack. I think it’s pay-per-view and we haven’t paid, so we get a scrambled picture. But it’s fun to try and figure out what’s going on. I think they’re having sex,” Adrian said. “Shane thinks it’s a horror movie.”
Lucas grunted, and Donovan shared a look with him.
“What?”
Donovan shrugged. “Nothing. Just feeling a wee bit old at the moment.”
“What? Eating pizza in a shitty motel too good for you, old man?” Meredith said.
“Not if you’re here,” he said with a flash of grin.
Chris and Adrian made gagging sounds.
“Oh, God. Please don’t make that noise. It makes me think about the smells in the room,” Claudia said.
“Does anyone else think the carpet feels moist?” I asked.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Meredith jumped up to stand on the bed and swiped her hands over her butt. “I thought it was just me, but the blanket is damp, too.” The springs in the mattress gave a squeaky cry, caving in under her feet. She fell into the dent, flailing her arms in the air.
Donovan caught her and pulled her out before she could fall. “Calm down, a ghrá,” Donovan said. “You’re going to break your neck with all this carrying on.” His Irish accent thickened as he started laughing at her, too.
I don’t know why that made me laugh so hard—I was probably more than a bit punch drunk—but I couldn’t stop. “You should see your face.” My words were strangled through gasps.
Glass shattered in the bathroom, drowning out our laughter. Cosette cursed and then a soft, pearly light glowed from the cracked door.
