Taming Demons for Beginners (The Guild Codex Demonized #1) - Annette Marie Page 0,44

I squinted at the screen. “This is … the Downtown Eastside?”

Her steps hesitated and our eyes met in shared realization. The Downtown Eastside was the worst neighborhood in the city. And we—two girls, alone and on foot—were lost in the middle of it.

Chapter Sixteen

“We should go west,” I said urgently. “Toward the downtown core.”

“I’m not walking all the way back,” Amalia groused. She pointed at a glowing orange sign, the text partially obscured by a scraggy tree. “Look, there’s a Travelodge right there. We’ll get a room for the night and find a better place tomorrow.”

I squinted at the “LODGE” visible through tree branches. We hastened up the sidewalk, ducked under the tree’s lowest boughs, and stopped. My suitcase rolled into the back of my leg.

“Booty … Lodge,” I read, repulsed by the neon outline of a yellow butt under the letters. A lightbulb glowed above the business’s open door, and a dance beat trickled out. Smokers clustered around the entrance in hazy clouds.

Amalia swore under her breath. “A strip club, ugh.”

“Hey there, pretty ladies,” a heavyset man at the door called. “Coming inside?”

“Eat a dick,” Amalia snapped.

Another man whistled. “Got a firecracker here, boys.”

Male gazes burned my skin. The club’s patrons had a sleezy, disreputable air to them, and I didn’t like what they were seeing—not confident, in-control women, but two girls who were clearly lost and frazzled, one in a short dress, the other dragging a suitcase.

I grabbed Amalia’s arm and hissed, “Let’s get out of here. Quickly.”

She nodded and we hurried back the way we’d come.

“Where ya goin’?” the whistler called. “You girls lost?”

We kept walking. I fumbled with my phone, looking for the nearest hotel. There was nothing nearby. Not even a gas station where we could take shelter and get our bearings.

“Hey girlies. What’s the rush?”

My head whipped around. Four men from the Booty Lodge trailed after us, still smoking. Amalia muttered a vile curse and hitched her backpack up her shoulder. She kept her pace steady and I matched it, my heart racing.

For two blocks, the men followed us, laughing and bantering in drunken slurs. Breathing hard, I checked my phone again. There was a twenty-four-hour convenience store a block and a half away. We could hide in there.

“Come on, pretty ladies,” one of our stalkers called. “Let us buy you some drinks.”

Amalia’s jaw tightened and she glanced back. Her head snapped straight again, her face paling, and she extended her stride.

“Yeah, baby. Work that ass. Whatchya wearing under the dress?”

I rushed after her, my suitcase clattering after me, and glanced back too.

The men were gaining on us.

Fear cut through me. I didn’t want to find out what they’d do if they caught up. The street was dark, abandoned except for our urgent procession. The convenience store wasn’t in sight yet and I stretched my legs, taking the biggest, fastest steps I could without running.

“I call dibs on the little pixie girl.”

My nerve broke and I bolted.

Amalia was a step behind me, and raucous laughter rang out as the men gave chase. My suitcase bounced on its wheels, dragging at my arm, but I couldn’t bear to release it. Amalia drew ahead, her longer legs pumping—then her flimsy sandal twisted.

She fell in a sprawl. I skidded around to help her, and then the men were on us.

Amalia shoved to her feet as the group formed a half circle around us. My heart hammered in my throat and my voice had vanished again. Even Amalia had run out of insults.

The men advanced. As Amalia and I backed away, shadows closed in—we were retreating into an alley. No, the men were herding us into an alley. My throat closed. Stupidly, I was still clutching the handle of my suitcase. I couldn’t let it go. It was all I had left.

The two closest men lunged and I stumbled backward, smacking hard into a brick wall. Amalia screamed as the other two men went for her.

Leering drunkenly, a greasy, bearded man grabbed the front of my sweater and pushed me into the wall, his hot, cigarette-stale breath bathing my face.

“No!” I cried.

Heat scorched my stomach and crimson light burst through my shirt. The glow coalesced between me and the man, shoving him backward. The light flared then faded, and suddenly, a warm body was pressed against mine.

Zylas. He stood with his back against me, facing my assailant.

“What the—” the man spluttered.

Zylas seized him by the throat and threw him. The man soared ten feet, crashed into the opposite