Demon Kissed - Katie May Page 0,68

you.”

21

Stacy finds me at my locker first thing Monday morning. “OMG. Guess what happened?”

Since she runs in much more popular circles than me half of the time, and since I’ve been on parental lockdown the entire weekend after my parents caught Raz bringing me home, I have literally zero clue what she’s talking about.

My bag is at my feet, only half loaded for the full morning run I have to do, since my locker is too far away for me to stop by until lunchtime. I turn, my Calculus textbook weighing down my hand, and notice that her blonde bangs look particularly good today with her cat eyeliner.

She doesn’t immediately spit out the information, but she’s bouncing on her toes. I can tell she’s trying to build up the suspense. She kind of looks like Adam whenever he asks me to guess what he wants for his birthday. He gets so worked up with excitement that he can hardly wait to tell me.

Did she do the deed with David?

I kind of assumed they already had. But whatever. Or is this about the winter dance?

She’s pressing her lips together and not completely deliriously giddy, so I assume not. I ask, “What?”

“Mr. D got mugged,” she shrieks. But hers is more of a teenage shriek of delight to have gotten the first, freshest gossip.

I gasp. But my gasp is riddled with pain because it suddenly feels like there are holes in my chest. I literally have to put down my book and put a hand over my heart to ensure it’s still beating. Raz is hurt? And nobody told me?

When did that happen? How? Did it happen after he dropped me off? A horror movie montage starts to play out of my dad paying someone to hurt him. I know my parents have money.

Stacy’s still blathering on, saying something like, “He doesn’t even look like himself—”

But I’m not listening.

I turn, abandoning my bookbag, leaving my locker wide open. I use my Calculus book as nature always intended—as a weapon to whack the idiots crowding the hallway.

Then I sprint to the gym.

Note—I don’t run. Like ever. So when I reach the gym, I’m a sweaty, panting mess, but I yank open the metal door and rush inside, dropping the calculus book with a thud that echoes when I see Raz’s face.

It looks like hamburger meat. It looks like someone beat and clawed him to a pulp.

Oh God, no. No. I feel like I’m standing in a rainstorm, and suddenly, all the raindrops have turned into rocks. And the rocks are sharp and pelt down, pummeling right through my skin, ripping it away. Seeing him hurt literally hurts me. My entire body aches as though I feel echoes of his pain.

“Raz,” I whisper, forlorn.

I can hardly see those beautiful, furious eyes of his as he stomps over to me. “What are you doing in here, Ms. Colt?”

I reach automatically for his face, but he shoves my hand down.

“You’re my student, remember?” he growls.

I ignore his very obvious reminder. His stupid front doesn’t matter right now. “What happened?”

“None of your business. Now get to class.”

His dismissal hurts, but in a different way. It’s not like seeing him suffer. Whereas seeing him hurt feels like a million minor cuts, hearing him dismiss me feels like he’s just reached inside my chest and squeezed my heart until it burst like a water balloon in his hand. It’s far worse.

It takes me a minute to recover from that. And I can’t stop the tears that gather in my eyes. Because maybe I do deserve his scorn and rejection, maybe this is all my fault. “Was it my dad?” The word comes out shaky and hesitant, and immediately, I put a hand on the wall and stare at the floor, panting, bracing myself for his answer.

If it was my dad’s doing…I can’t go home.

Raz answers in a growl so low I can hardly hear, because he’s standing on my bad side. I have to look up and read his lips a little in order to understand. “You think your dad is any kind of a threat to me?” Raz tilts his mutilated face up toward the ceiling and laughs unpleasantly. “Baby girl, I’m a thing of nightmares.”

Raz wouldn’t say another damn word. Not one. The warning bell rang and students started showing up, but still, I deserved a damn explanation. I deserved to know what was going on.

Because I like—no, because I care about these idiot demons. As friends.