Instead of vengeance, I feel hollow. Instead of full of fury and power, I feel gutted, weak, and small. Because whatever is going on with Katrina is hurting her.
I’m part of what’s hurting her.
I don’t know if she feels torn, or if she misses us. I don’t know if she’s crying because she’s decided she once more wants that asshat of a human William, who bounces from girl to girl like a ping pong ball. I have no clue if she really does just want us to leave again or if she can’t decide.
All I know is that for the first time in my existence, I feel impotent.
Is that what love does?
Strips you of everything you’ve defined yourself by and leaves you stuck, vulnerable, and helpless?
I grab my desk and flip it on its side, reveling in the crash it makes when it smashes against the tile floor.
I stride out into the hall, because I don’t know what to do.
Love fucking sucks.
4
Katrina
What do you do when you’re being stalked by five sexy as sin demons?
You run like hell.
Pun unintended.
I make sure the hallway is clear, that there are no demons lurking in wait, before hurrying out of the school, veering to the right instead of the left, where my car is usually parked.
If everything goes as planned, Adam will remain at his after-school program for the next two hours and I’ll be able to take a damn break. I need a minute, just a minute, where I’m not constantly surrounded by men who make my heart thump unsteadily. Men who make my hands slick with sweat as grasshoppers bounce around in my stomach.
Because every time I see them, my resolve wavers, and I can’t have that. I refuse to.
Whenever I close my eyes, I envision the scythe entering Zolroth’s stomach. My demon’s eyes had immediately flickered to me, pain emanating from their golden depths. It felt as if my heart was shredded into thousands of pieces smaller than confetti, as if someone was throwing the diminutive pieces into the air and watching them rain down.
Never again.
I know I only have a few minutes until the guys are on to me, so I make a beeline towards the downtown area, where tiny stores are clustered together and the sidewalk is lined with artificial trees. I duck past the occasional business man and woman, speed around a group of students walking home from school, before entering Espresso Brew, a quaint coffee shop nestled between a post office and an antique clothing store.
Once I’m inside the dank building, I’m greeted with the aroma of coffee beans and baked goods, the delicious, decadent scents permeating the air. I inhale greedily before peeking out the window, ensuring the street is devoid of any pesky demons.
But all I can see is Van’s desperate face in his office.
Zolroth’s bleeding stomach.
Kastros’s scowl in decathlon as he hurled javelins with his eyes at an oblivious William.
And all I can hear is Raz’s soft voice calling me “princess” and Akor’s confession.
Did he mean it? Does he…?
I shake my head from side to side, attempting to dislodge the hopeful thoughts that want to take root in my brain like pesky weeds.
Ignoring the tinny voice, almost like cackling radio waves, demanding that I go back, I step into line in the dimly lit shop. I glance around at the place, which has garage-sale-like mismatched chairs that have been reupholstered in loud, bold fabrics and scratched table tops that somehow give the place ambiance instead of being dingy. I’ll hide out here for, say, the next few hours. Remind myself once more of all the reasons why this relationship could never work.
And, if I’m being completely honest with myself, it’s not just because I’m their Center, the only being in Heaven or on Earth whose very existence makes them physically vulnerable.
It’s because I’m only one person, one girl. How am I supposed to hold the attention of five men who’ve been around for centuries? One’s a lust demon, for fuck’s sake, who has no doubt been with so many women, he’ll resent my virgin ass. What can I offer him that he can’t get elsewhere? What can I offer any of them?
Awkward facts about the lifecycle of the octopus or the periodic table? Gah! What man wants that? I mean seriously, in comparison to them, I don’t have anything special about me.
Those thoughts ricochet in my head, drowning me in self-loathing, as I step forward in