Underneath are a series of incomprehensible pictures that seem to be giving instructions, but I can’t for the life of me understand them. He breathes in deeply, licking his lips.
I don’t want to know, but I ask anyway. “What do you eat?”
He grins, revealing bare gray gums. “Confusion. Usually I linger at tube stops frequented by tourists, but I could live for years off you. How much you want?”
“What?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of bills. “How much? You’re here as a pet, right? Whoever’s your leech, I’ll pay more. One-year contract. All you have to do is exactly what you are.”
“Nah, girl, listen here!” A demon with skin the color and texture of white mold growing on bread has stopped and leans too close for comfort. I take a step back. “You’re guilty.” He grins, leaning in even closer. “You reek of guilt and shame. I’ll take all your guilt. Every last drop of it.” His tongue flicks out, thin and purple and forked at the end. “Think of how lovely it would be to live free of that.”
I fold my arms over my chest protectively. Much as I’d love to give up this guilt, I need it. It drives me, directs me. And combats the anger. If I could live guilt-free with what I’ve done, I’d be a monster.
How many of the humans here actually know what’s going on? How many of them sell their emotions and feelings for a wad of cash? It’s one thing for Doug to feed on happiness without taking it away. This is something else. That new viciousness nestled inside me flares, and I see these two demons for what they are: predators. They might not kill people, but if they really can permanently suck away my guilt or confusion, they’re taking something that makes me me. That makes me human. Just because it isn’t blood doesn’t mean it’s not part of me.
I take a step forward, eyes narrowed, and think of the last time I saw Leo alive. The moldy demon suddenly puffs up like a sponge absorbing water.
“Too much,” he gasps, turning and stumbling away.
The gray demon has backed against the wall of his booth, hands up pleadingly. “Go. Just go. Don’t want nothing from you.”
I walk on. Apparently now I give off enough spiky, angry energy that the majority of the demons turn quickly away from me, giving me a wide berth. I duck between booths, trying to catch my breath. Who here could need my help? Who here even deserves it?
Maybe Artemis is right. Maybe I really am only helping myself.
10
DOUG IS IN A GOOD mood when I meet back up with him. Which makes me worried for a new reason. Will I have to let another friend leave? I don’t think I can handle it right now. “Do you want to go with him? Your cousin?”
Doug must feel my concern. “Aww, you’d miss me! Don’t worry. We’re generally solitary. Makes it easier—more food that way, less likely to draw attention. Plus, he’s got a lot of mouths to feed now. Lucky strike, finding a mate. His kids are pretty accurate of the gender breakdown of our species. Not many girls. I’m just glad I know he’s okay. And he gave me a lead.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Course there’s the usual disappearances. That’s normal. Loads of missing demons ever since the portals closed, but that’s down to being cut off with no communication. I asked him about incubus and succubus types, though, because you got me wondering. And he said there’s a rumor that someone is hunting for them. Lots of demons going into hiding because of it, but no one can say exactly who it is they’re afraid of. No name.”
“But we know someone who looks for specific types of demons!” I snap. “The dude the mercenaries were hunting for! Van Alston!”
“Von Alston. The one your mother told us not to go near. And wasn’t he only looking for werewolves?”
“Yeah, that we know of. But if he’s in the market for one type, doesn’t it make sense he’d be in the market for others?”
“Does it, though?” Doug seems genuinely puzzled by my leap. But it’s the only lead we have, the only connection. I know it isn’t a solid lead, but I want it to be. I need it to be. And it really does make sense that if some dude pays for one type of supernatural creature, odds are he’s paying for others, too. Or at