Taming Demons for Beginners (The Guild Codex Demonized #1) - Annette Marie Page 0,77
I was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“You’re a traitorous coward, you know that?”
My head crackled and buzzed like a mistuned radio. I struggled toward consciousness, drowning in noise.
“I was already aware that you’re a putrid vat of slime,” the speaker continued, her acid voice echoing strangely, “but I didn’t realize you were also a self-important yak with no clue how pathetic you really are.”
I knew that angry female voice.
“You’re the one with no clue,” a man retorted.
I knew him as well. With a horrendous effort, I cracked my eyes open.
My vision blurred in and out, then steadied. I was sitting on a flimsy folding chair in a narrow, rectangular room with metal walls and no windows. I couldn’t see a door. The only light came from a battery-powered lantern on the floor beside Amalia, who sat on a chair a few feet away.
When I saw the white zip ties binding her wrists to the chair’s sides, I reflexively jerked my arms. Pain cut into my wrists. I was zip-tied to my chair too.
At my spasming movement, Amalia glanced at me. So did the second person: Travis. Stubble coated his jaw and the lantern light cast harsh shadows over his face, darkening the exhausted circles under his eyes. He regarded me for a moment, then turned back to Amalia.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I only brought you here so you couldn’t tip off Robin that I’d found her. I’ll let you go once we’re done with—”
“No one is going to let me go, you brainless ballsack!” Amalia snapped. “Red Rum will kill me, kill Robin, and probably kill you too. I can’t believe you’re this stupid.”
“They won’t kill anyone. They just want her demon.”
I gasped and almost choked. My mouth was duct-taped shut. Terror burned across my nerves but it was so hard to focus. My mind was spinning and the hissing racket in my ears was deafening. I couldn’t hear myself think. I could barely form thoughts at all.
Amalia closed her eyes as though praying for patience. “Travis, Red Rum is the biggest, meanest, most murderous rogue guild on the west coast. Criminals like them don’t let loose ends like us walk away.”
“Dad can handle them. So can I.”
“Dad couldn’t handle them! He was terrified of them!”
Fighting for every second of clarity, I focused through the unnatural buzzing in my head, struggling to get a better hold on the conversation.
Amalia breathed harshly through her nose. “Untie us and we’ll run for it together—before it’s too late. I already explained that Robin’s demon is—”
“No.” Hands jammed in his pockets, he paced the length of the room, his footsteps echoing off the metal floor. “Dad won’t give me a demon name. He never will. I’m not his real son.” Bitterness hoarsened his voice. “This is my only chance.”
“You’re making the biggest mistake of what will be your very short life.”
“Red Rum will either give me a name or pay me enough to buy one.” He checked his phone. “I’m sorry, Robin. I never meant for you to get hurt or any of this shit. Just give up the demon and you’ll be fine.”
I widened my eyes in answer, a high-pitched noise screeching from my throat.
“She’s laughing at how stupid you are,” Amalia interpreted. “A few days ago, they were ready to feed her to that damn demon. They won’t let her waltz off into the sunset so she can report them to MagiPol.”
I hadn’t been laughing—more like squealing in horror—but I liked Amalia’s interpretation better.
“Besides,” Amalia went on harshly, “demon contracts are for life. You can’t just give away your—”
“Actually, you can,” Travis interrupted. “MPD has it all hushed up, but Red Rum has a special ritual where the contractor and demon can surrender their existing contract and negotiate a new one.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. If it were that easy, contractors would be swapping demons like—”
“Just shut up, Amalia.”
He nervously paced a circle around us, then halted when metal clanged loudly. The far wall swung open, letting in a blaze of sunlight, and I realized the room was an empty shipping container.
A cold breeze smelling of sea water wafted inside as a small group entered. Karlson, Uncle Jack’s client and the man who’d overseen my near death in the library, stopped to study me. New cronies flanked him, one with a sword sheathed at his hip and the other with an infernus resting on his chest.
“You’re here,” Travis said nervously. “I have the girl, so—”
Karlson flipped his hand toward Travis in a silencing gesture.