different from human auras because I wasn’t human, despite having passed for one most of my life, raised by a human family.
Really, it came as a shock to me, too, when I found out.
The orange haze around me bled into the ground, making it solid so I didn’t sink up to my eyeballs. This created a constant drain on my aura. Wocky didn’t have that problem or an aura either. He had a kind of cold black flame around his half melted, awful self, and the ground didn’t want him anymore than I did.
I looked at the ruined house. “We’re having a kegger ?”
“A binging of a different sort. Be patient, Grace, you’ll see. Two of my favorite toys are here.”
“What’s a toy for a demon?” Do I really want to know?
“Ah, that would be telling.” He folded his tattered wings into a hard shell against his back, and gestured up the hill with a claw. “This way, Princess.”
Yeah, technically I was a long lost princess of the shadow world, but that and a buck would get me a donut. The only thing that scared me more than Wocky was my shadow-man father. I had two heritages I knew little about. Kitsune and shadow-man.
If only I were human…
I climbed the hill, trampling its winter pale grass, wondering if this was his way of getting me far from Tukka. Once the real fun started, Wocky wouldn’t want it interrupted by two rampaging tons of teal blue fu dog. Toys? Really? I might be only minutes away from getting ripped into itty-bitty, tasty pieces, or maybe he had new torture techniques to try out. Still, I needed him to take back his demon mark. There wasn’t a good chance, but I was desperate.
“Did we have to come here ? I don’t like this place.” In the rural wilds of East Texas, between little townships, you could scream for days and never be heard.
He grinned like a gator discovering a huddle of plump frogs, and latched onto my arm. “We have to hurry. The show will be starting soon.”
“Show?” I breathed shallowly through my mouth, my eyes smarting from his rot and sulfur stench.
He said, “Trust me; I seldom kill my dates.”
We’re on a date?
Was he doing this so Tukka—my favorite fu dog—would find out and be irritated, or was he serious? Bad news either way . Both might even be true, or neither. Demons were older than dirt. They’d had eons to get devious and wily. There was no way to really know his mind, but those who breezily say “trust me” usually stab you in the back. Repeatedly.
“You go first,” I said. I so need to breathe!
He shook his head in mock-sadness at my reticen ce, but released my arm, and led the way.
I let him get four all-too-short feet away, and followed.
He went up the rickety steps—thoughtfully kicking aside the fallen post for me—and paused at the door. His body flickered like a fire-cast shadow, momentarily losing substance so he could pass through.
Bravely, I thought, I followed him across the treacherous deck. Several of the boards had already snapped under someone’s weight. I didn’t use the door, but slid along the wall to a set of boarded windows. Immaterial here in the ghost realm, I ghosted through them, into a space that might have once been a living room. It was choked with shadows. Wallpaper sagged off the walls. A dirty carpet lay underfoot, littered with beer bottles and assorted trash. The ceiling light-cover was missing. I saw a socket filled with a new-looking spiral bulb that suggested the place had electric service, unless a generator had been hooked up by the local party animals that drank here on weekends. The only piece of furniture remaining was a broken-down couch. The floor in front of it was spotted with used condoms.
Eeeew. I wrinkled my nose. Couldn’t they at least have swept those under the couch? Would the dust bunnies have minded?
Sitting a few steps up a staircase, the demon chuckled. “This place does have a
Really, it came as a shock to me, too, when I found out.
The orange haze around me bled into the ground, making it solid so I didn’t sink up to my eyeballs. This created a constant drain on my aura. Wocky didn’t have that problem or an aura either. He had a kind of cold black flame around his half melted, awful self, and the ground didn’t want him anymore than I did.
I looked at the ruined house. “We’re having a kegger ?”
“A binging of a different sort. Be patient, Grace, you’ll see. Two of my favorite toys are here.”
“What’s a toy for a demon?” Do I really want to know?
“Ah, that would be telling.” He folded his tattered wings into a hard shell against his back, and gestured up the hill with a claw. “This way, Princess.”
Yeah, technically I was a long lost princess of the shadow world, but that and a buck would get me a donut. The only thing that scared me more than Wocky was my shadow-man father. I had two heritages I knew little about. Kitsune and shadow-man.
If only I were human…
I climbed the hill, trampling its winter pale grass, wondering if this was his way of getting me far from Tukka. Once the real fun started, Wocky wouldn’t want it interrupted by two rampaging tons of teal blue fu dog. Toys? Really? I might be only minutes away from getting ripped into itty-bitty, tasty pieces, or maybe he had new torture techniques to try out. Still, I needed him to take back his demon mark. There wasn’t a good chance, but I was desperate.
“Did we have to come here ? I don’t like this place.” In the rural wilds of East Texas, between little townships, you could scream for days and never be heard.
He grinned like a gator discovering a huddle of plump frogs, and latched onto my arm. “We have to hurry. The show will be starting soon.”
“Show?” I breathed shallowly through my mouth, my eyes smarting from his rot and sulfur stench.
He said, “Trust me; I seldom kill my dates.”
We’re on a date?
Was he doing this so Tukka—my favorite fu dog—would find out and be irritated, or was he serious? Bad news either way . Both might even be true, or neither. Demons were older than dirt. They’d had eons to get devious and wily. There was no way to really know his mind, but those who breezily say “trust me” usually stab you in the back. Repeatedly.
“You go first,” I said. I so need to breathe!
He shook his head in mock-sadness at my reticen ce, but released my arm, and led the way.
I let him get four all-too-short feet away, and followed.
He went up the rickety steps—thoughtfully kicking aside the fallen post for me—and paused at the door. His body flickered like a fire-cast shadow, momentarily losing substance so he could pass through.
Bravely, I thought, I followed him across the treacherous deck. Several of the boards had already snapped under someone’s weight. I didn’t use the door, but slid along the wall to a set of boarded windows. Immaterial here in the ghost realm, I ghosted through them, into a space that might have once been a living room. It was choked with shadows. Wallpaper sagged off the walls. A dirty carpet lay underfoot, littered with beer bottles and assorted trash. The ceiling light-cover was missing. I saw a socket filled with a new-looking spiral bulb that suggested the place had electric service, unless a generator had been hooked up by the local party animals that drank here on weekends. The only piece of furniture remaining was a broken-down couch. The floor in front of it was spotted with used condoms.
Eeeew. I wrinkled my nose. Couldn’t they at least have swept those under the couch? Would the dust bunnies have minded?
Sitting a few steps up a staircase, the demon chuckled. “This place does have a
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