Taming Demons for Beginners (The Guild Codex Demonized #1) - Annette Marie Page 0,55

of the rain deadened all other sound and shadows encroached on the streetlights’ glow. My stubborn determination to do the right thing withered beneath a wave of apprehension, but I continued to the next intersection. Where did our grid end? This seemed awfully slapdash for a highly organized, multi-guild search.

As I stood there, unsure of what to do, movement caught my eye.

Four people were jogging down the adjacent street, two on each side. As they reached an intersecting alley, the pairs swept into the shadowy passageways with the determined proficiency of a SWAT team. A minute later, they reappeared, giving each other hand signals that I assumed meant, “All clear.”

I hurried behind a bus stop shelter and peered out as they reconvened in the street, pausing while one checked his phone. They all wore black clothes, lots of leather, and what appeared to be bullet-proof vests. The three men stood beside a short blond woman with something sticking up over her shoulder.

The man on his phone pressed a finger to his ear. “Copy that, Felix. We’re almost finished this grid.”

“I’m beat.” Stretching her arms over her head, the woman turned to her teammate, revealing the sword strapped to her back. “How much longer on this shift?”

“Two more hours.”

“Damn.” She stifled a yawn. “I haven’t gone on this little sleep since the Lynn Creek shifter stakeout.”

A guy chuckled. “That was a fun one!”

“Let’s get back to it, guys,” the leader said.

Reforming their pairs, they set out in a swift but cautious jog. I watched the woman’s retreating back with hungry awe. She was petite—almost as short as me—but she oozed toughness with each step. Could I ever be like that?

I watched the team methodically sweep the street until they disappeared in the rain. Wow. So that’s what we were supposed to be doing. Did Tae-min know how this search should be performed? I retreated half a block and peered down a dark alley. Going in there alone struck me as a dumb plan.

Heat flared against my chest, radiating from the infernus, and Zylas materialized beside me in a burst of red light. Ignoring my shocked gasp, he peered upward. Rain peppered his face and he frowned as though the weather’s daring offended him.

“What are you doing?” I hissed in alarm. “You can’t just pop out whenever you feel like it!”

Crimson eyes glowing in the dim light, he cast me a dismissive glance. The cut on his cheek was a dark line, no longer bleeding. “Why not?”

“Someone might see you!”

“I knew you were alone.”

“How?”

He stretched lazily, arching his back. “You thought about it.”

“You—you can hear my thoughts?”

“In the infernus, there is nothing.” He wrinkled his nose. “Quiet and dark. Boring. But I can hear you.”

I didn’t know how to react. Crawling into a sewer and dying of humiliation was appealing. “Don’t eavesdrop on my thoughts! That’s—that’s private!”

He studied a streetlamp as though wondering if he could climb it, then wandered into the alley.

Ignoring me. Completely.

I stalked after him. “Zylas—”

He spun around. Seizing my wrist, he forced my hand up, a bloody tissue pinched against my cut thumb.

“Do you mind?” I asked as I tugged on my arm.

He ripped the tissue out of my grasp and tossed it aside. “You are still bleeding? How much are you hurt?”

I reluctantly opened my hand. Fresh blood welled in the deep cut and a drop spilled over, running down my palm.

Watching the bright red line snake over my wrist, Zylas pulled my arm closer to his face—then licked the blood, his hot tongue running up my wrist to the cut.

“Aaagh!” I squealed, wrenching my arm free. “What are you doing?”

Gaze unfocused, he worked his mouth as though experiencing a new flavor.

“That’s disgusting,” I whined, vigorously wiping my wrist on my jeans. “I can’t believe you—”

He spat on the ground. My jaw dropped, my complaint forgotten as his face contorted with complete and utter revulsion.

“Guh! Does all human blood taste like that?” he demanded.

“Of course it does.”

He stuck his tongue out like he wanted to wipe it clean. “Tastes like metal.”

I glared at him, unreasonably offended that he thought my blood was gross. “Serves you right for licking me.”

“Hh’ainun blood is supposed to be the finest flavor.” He shot me a look like I’d severely disappointed him. “A stupid rumor.”

He grasped my wrist again. Turning my palm up, he pressed two fingers into the cut. I flinched, but before I could draw away, red magic glowed across his hand. A miniature swirl of lines and runes flashed