“Maybe we should tape them back together and make a bouquet for his funeral since he’s obviously dying,” Marty snorted. He hopped onto the pool table and looked up at me. His shoulders slumped, and he stuck out his chapped bottom lip. “I can’t believe you let Dirk take the portal chip and enter the Underworld. How is that fair? We should have gone with him.”
Without thinking, I backhanded Marty. He sailed across the room and collided with a table. Beer bottles clattered and crashed to the floor. The men jumped up, yelling, and pointed to their drenched shirts.
“What the fuck?” someone said.
“How did that happen?” said another.
The third guy scratched beneath his beard and asked, “Did someone throw something?”
I stopped focusing on the upset bystanders and glanced down at my hands. The veins at my wrist practically twitched while my heart hammered in my chest. Why was I so angry? I needed to let loose on something or someone. As Marty climbed back onto the table, I eyeballed him. Wallis soon joined him. The two green fools tilted their heads as if they were trying to figure out my problem.
“Are you okay?” I asked Marty.
He nodded. “Boss, you...”
“What?”
“You reacted more like a soul reaper than—”
“Don’t say another word!” I warned him as I stood tall. That only seemed to make the gremlins giddier. Wallis and Marty glanced at each other, shared a devious smirk, and bounced up and down with their excitement.
“You’re so cool, Boss.” Wallis clapped.
I rubbed my forehead. Yelling and ordering them around wasn’t cool. I would never understand those creatures. “Stop clapping.”
_____
There was a reason I let Dirk venture into the Underworld alone. I needed answers. All day long, Wallis swept up the purple petals appearing at my feet. Sometimes, I awakened, and I was lying in dead flowers. They were everywhere I turned. Rubbing my bare chest, I sat on the too short mattress. The shitty trailer didn’t give me enough room for a longer bed.
Although I took a cold shower five minutes ago, I was still turned on.
Grim’s woods.
Grim’s castle.
Alone in a room.
Damn it!
If one of the gremlins left, I couldn’t pinpoint their location. When they returned, they would tell me where they had been. That wasn’t the case with the mysterious woman. Why?
Strange ideas consumed me.
She needs me.
I needed to soothe her pain. Maybe that was the reason my body felt primed. I’d give her whatever she needed if that would appease the scorching heat under my skin.
What if it wasn’t about her? What if it was just my demon DNA wanting to eat her soul?
When I began salivating, I clapped a hand over my mouth. Thinking of her sweet-smelling pink soul captivated me.
Really fucking nice, Shepherd.
Drool dripped onto my chest. I swiped at it leisurely, then something on my right pec caught my eye. Amid the black ink, like a blaring neon sign, was the tattoo of a pink goat. The damn thing looked like someone etched a cartoon character on my skin. Where the hell did that come from?
Melinda must have hexed me. Ever since the night the witch told me about the Reapers needing help, I’d been messed up. Was she responsible for the mysterious woman invading my dreams too?
The raven-haired beauty, dressed in the black gown, never spoke. She always stood at a distance as if she waited for me. The woman was a beacon beckoning me, but I never answered her call. Somehow, I knew my brain conjured what I wished to see. I shouldn’t be obsessing over the creature with indigo eyes.
Even more illogical was the desire constantly growing beneath my skin. Maybe if I found her and gave into my passions, the inferno inside me would cease. Not possible. Seeing her would inevitably make me worse. Until I knew what was happening with me, I needed to stay away from her.
Dirk had been gone half a day. It was too long. I needed answers to my dilemma the second I locked eyes with the female Reaper.
I shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in Grim’s problems. His Reapers appeared to handle the human festival just fine on their own. Why did the witch want me there that night? To hex me? Kill me? By the constant bulge in my jeans, maybe it wasn’t a physical death she conjured up. More like a sweaty and constantly horny torture that included dropping petals like a wilting flower. What the hell did I do to piss off a witch?