From her flustered reaction, there’s no denying that she’s thinking very, very dirty thoughts about my lust demon.
Fuck her.
And fuck Van too.
Hell, let’s just fuck all of the demons.
“Hey, darling,” Van coos in a voice capable of making most ladies cream their pants. I just saw the dead body of my classmate, and even I want to hump his leg like he’s a one-cent horse at the grocery store.
This girl stands no fucking chance.
The pheromones Van emits are almost palpable, tasting bitter on my tongue. He exudes raw sex—the type of sex that demands you stand on a table, whip off your shirt, and then wave it above your head like a lasso. You want to get wild and lose yourself. You want to lose yourself in him.
“Can you do me a favor?” He flashes her a sultry smile, one I imagine he’s used thousands of times before.
One that instantly causes my hackles to raise.
And then I remember…
Dead body.
Jason.
Minivan.
Family 4 Life!
It’s official—I’m ten kinds of fucked up.
Less than two minutes later, we’re in a quaint office with a single desk hosting two computer monitors.
The girl—Courtney with a C, as she announced herself—is practically plastered to Van’s bicep. I can see her hips jerking forward as the bitch humps his leg.
And oh, I’m feeling stabby.
Which is horrible fucking timing, considering there’s a dead body in the back of Akor’s soccer-mom minivan.
Van, for his part, seems utterly oblivious to the girl clawing at his arm. His entire attention is fixated on the computer. As I watch, he rewinds the tape to when Jason first entered the parking lot, only fifteen minutes earlier.
On screen, Jason leans languidly back against the dumpster, a cigarette dangling from his lips. And there, seeming to appear out of thin air, is Akor, lips curled into a devious smile. No, not devious. Malicious. It’s a smile that promises pain and suffering—a smile that embodies pure and unrelenting darkness.
The video doesn’t have any sound, but I watch as Akor grabs the cigarette from Jason’s mouth and throws it onto the ground, stomping it out with his boot. The demon stands mere inches away from Jason’s face, his lips moving rapidly as he speaks.
A myriad of emotions cross Jason’s face. First it’s fear, but that fear quickly turns into annoyance and then something smug. There’s a distinct smile curving up his lips as he says something to Akor that has the demon freezing, hands clenching into fists.
I watch in rapt fascination as Akor takes a deep, fortifying breath and steps away. Turns.
But then, Jason’s hand is on Akor’s shoulder, and the demon spins around so abruptly, Jason staggers back in shock. And to my complete and utter horror, Akor shoves him, causing Jason to stumble and trip. He falls backward, attempting to shift sideways as he sinks. But the dumpster is too close. He whacks his head against the corner of the bin.
Blood.
So.
Much.
Blood.
I watch as a panicked Akor drops to his knees, attempting to staunch the heavy flow. And when that doesn’t work, he places two fingers to Jason’s pulse.
Van pauses the video abruptly, but I already know what will happen next—Akor will grab the body and carry it towards his van.
“You shouldn’t have had to see that,” Van murmurs absently, still oblivious to the girl pawing at him. He removes the tape from the VCR and slides it gracefully into his jacket pocket. And then he grabs all of the other tapes from today and deposits them into his jacket as well.
As if we were never here to begin with.
A man’s dead, and I’m helping them cover it up. My brain screams at me that it was an accident, that the cops wouldn’t find Akor guilty of manslaughter, that there’s no reason to steal evidence, but my body mechanically follows Van out of the room.
I’m dimly aware of the girl screaming her number to Van as he steps outside, holding the door open for me.
But I’m numb. Absolutely numb.
Jason’s dead.
And the most fucked up thing? I’m more worried about Akor getting in trouble than the fact that one of my classmates was just killed by him.
I’m spending too much time with demons…because I can no longer tell wrong from right.
19
When we get back out to the van, Jason’s body has been neatly tucked inside and I don’t see a hint of red anywhere, not even a stain on the asphalt.
My eyes scan, double-checking every inch of the ground as my mind hovers in some weird purgatory. I’m at a