Sinful As Hell (The Demon Academy #1) - G. Bailey Page 0,1

recently has it been sorted out enough for us to give out food in places like this. We live just outside Edinburgh, and Scotland became the best place for everyone to run because the Scottish government decided to try and help. Only issue is, they didn’t really help like they said they would on the telly.

The government just doesn’t care about them. I reckon they said they would help to look good, and that’s why I am here after school every day helping my parents the best I can to run this place. We have a hundred rooms in the church, and eighty of those rooms have four-person families in them. The other twenty rooms usually change as people realise they can’t get work in our town and move on to the city nearby.

“Thanks for the advice,” she says, her voice thick with emotion as tears fall down her cheeks. I reach over and place my hand on her arm for just a moment. It isn’t easy for people to ask for help. Pride is a tricky thing, after all. It stops you getting help most of the time.

“You should get going. You’re going to be late to that date,” Mum reminds me, coming to my side. I didn’t even see her come out of the back room where she was helping my dad cook. Mum does the paperwork, and Dad cooks. It’s a good team, even if they are in love in that sickly over-the-top way. Mum gives me a look of understanding as her deep cerulean-blue eyes drift over to the woman walking away, and back to me before she tucks her black hair behind her ears. I unclip my yellow apron that has a smattering of holes and burn marks on it and hand it to her. We share an apron—and most of our clothes—as we are the same size. Dad says we are short and sweet. I don’t think sweet is a word that accurately describes me, but it certainly does describe my mum. She clips it on and stands back, placing her hands on her hips as she surveys the room. It’s busier than usual today, which isn’t a good thing, and I see it in her expression.

“It’s just a first date. He might just want to hang out, and he might not like me,” I point out.

“Sure, two seventeen-year-olds just ‘hanging out.’ He looks at you like a friend too,” she sarcastically replies. The only person that beats my mum’s level of sarcasm is me, and even then, I’m impressed by the things she comes out with.

“Your mother is lying. The boy looks at you like he wishes to eat you whole,” Amethyst remarks, and I turn to glare at her, wishing she wouldn’t talk to me in front of people. “I’m certain his new mission in life is to get inside your panties.” I blank my expression, a thing I’ve gotten used to doing since Amethyst first spoke to me.

I’m pretty sure talking to your cat isn’t normal and could quite possibly get me locked up if anyone found out. Mum doesn’t hear Amethyst. Lucky her. I lean down, picking Amethyst up, and carry her to the back door.

“What have we talked about before?” I whisper to her, making sure no one is around before I talk.

“No talking to you when mortals are around. I know, I know, but my stomach betrayed me. I am so hungry,” she grumbles, sounding like she is one meal short of death or something. I stroke her silky black fur, hearing her purr as I carry on walking.

“Your stomach always betrays you, and you are always hungry,” I point out.

“It has been such a long time since food arrived in my bowl,” she says, acting like she is going to pass out soon. I swear this cat is so overdramatic. Why couldn’t I have picked a normal, non-talking cat? One that would just meow at me when it was hungry? No, I get the inner monologue of the craziest cat in town.

“I fed you at twelve, you little liar,” I mutter, and Amethyst just looks up at me with her strange purple eyes. I should have known purple eyes weren’t normal for a cat when I picked her up from the shelter.

I should have known there was a reason that no one else wanted to adopt her and five families had brought her back after a few days. But oh no, I was a sucker for a