Taming Demons for Beginners (The Guild Codex Demonized #1) - Annette Marie Page 0,74

light bulb. Then the radiance faded and the demon was gone.

The Banishment Clause, I realized numbly. Todd’s death had freed the demon from its contract. It had possessed him, taken his soul, and escaped back to its world.

Todd’s death.

Todd was dead.

Zylas had killed him.

I stumbled forward on weak legs. Zylas watched me approach, his eyes wary. Stopping a few feet from the body, I stared at the rivulets of blood running down the slanted sidewalk.

“You killed him.”

Zylas silently regarded me.

“You killed him!” The words burst out, edged in hysteria. “He didn’t do anything wrong! He was scared and—and he was only—you killed him!”

Zylas’s tail snapped side to side. “You said no one can know I am not enslaved. I am protecting you.”

“No!” I grabbed the sides of my head, holding my skull together against the boiling panic and horror. “No, this is wrong! You killed an innocent man!”

“You said—”

“I didn’t say to kill people!” I shrieked. “Get back in the infernus! Right now!”

He snarled at the command, then a crimson glow swept over him. The pendant buzzed against my chest as his essence filled it.

Alone, I hugged myself and stared down at the dead man. An innocent man. He’d seen an out-of-control demon and called his own for protection. He’d been afraid. He’d been defending himself.

He was dead now. Because of me. Because I couldn’t control Zylas.

Tears ran down my cheeks. My fault. All my fault. Tahēsh had killed people and I felt horrible guilt over that already, but I’d had no idea Zylas could or would free the other demon. The blame wasn’t entirely mine. However, I’d known full well that Zylas was a risk to everyone around me.

I’d known, and I’d ignored the danger. Now an innocent man was dead. Why had he even been here? So late at night? Standing outside?

An electronic trill made me leap backward. The tune blared from Todd’s body. His wife, calling to ask when he’d be home? Friends he was supposed to meet, calling to find out why he was late? His champion, who was supposed to protect him while he commanded his demon, concerned about where he’d gone?

My demon had murdered a guild member—on our guild’s literal doorstep.

Before I knew what I was doing, I’d turned and bolted. I dashed up the street, cut west, and ran until I couldn’t breathe. Then I kept on running, fleeing Todd’s death and my own selfish decisions. I ran until my legs threatened to give out, then I walked.

I walked and walked until I found myself at our motel room. With unsteady fingers, I dug out my key card and unlocked the door. Inside, our beds were unmade—we couldn’t let housekeeping in because Zylas had destroyed the TV—and our suitcases lay untouched.

Amalia wasn’t in the room. I didn’t know where she’d gone and I didn’t care. I couldn’t face her right now.

I stumbled to my bed and stopped. Carefully, as though it were a live bomb, I lifted the infernus off my neck, opened the nightstand’s drawer, and set it beside the standard motel Bible. I closed the drawer and toed off my shoes, then collapsed onto the mattress.

Burying my face in the pillow, I cried silently, my voice muted by guilt, horror, and the petrifying dread of what awaited me in the morning.

Chapter Twenty-Five

I woke at a quarter after six, groggy, unrested, and sick with guilt. The room was dark, the sun yet to rise, and I sat up clumsily, my nose stuffed and eyes dry. My glasses lay beside the pillow. I’d slept in my clothes, sprawled on top of the unmade bed.

My gaze darted to the bedside drawer. Zylas was still inside the infernus. Maybe, with the access to my thoughts that our contract had awarded him, he knew I couldn’t stand to see him right now.

Maybe he knew I loathed everything about him.

He was a remorseless killer. He didn’t care that he’d slaughtered an innocent man. He felt no guilt and would never apologize. But he’d acted to protect me. He’d responded based on his understanding of the situation—based on the information I had given him.

Zylas had killed Todd, but the responsibility was mine. All mine.

My phone had fallen off the bed. Retrieving it, I slid on my glasses and pressed the power button to wake the screen. Twenty-six texts, eight missed calls, and three voicemails demanded my attention.

Stomach churning, I flipped open the texts. The first dozen were from Amalia, asking what was going on, but those had stopped