Touched by Fire (Demons of New Chicago #1) - Kel Carpenter Page 0,14
furniture. The floors were fake wood, but they looked nice, just a bit scuffed. In this age, my apartment was the cream of the crop for a human. Because of our lack of gifts, we scraped the bottom of the barrel. The unwanted leftovers. There weren’t many people that were well-off unless they had magic. Then again, I wasn’t completely human. Not that anyone but a demon I’d set loose in the city knew that. I pressed my lips together, kicking the chair leg from under the shoddy dining table. I dropped my guest in the seat, arranging her so that she wouldn’t fall over while I went to grab rope and a dish rag from the kitchen.
She was just beginning to stir when I came back. I stuffed the rag between her parted lips and tied it tight behind her head. Her eyes were fluttering open when I pulled the knife from my coat and cut a length of rope. I grabbed both her arms and pulled them taut behind her before she gained full consciousness.
My nimble fingers wound the rope tight around her wrists and in between her fingers. The latter was unusual, until you considered that some witches could do magic without words. I had no idea if she fell in that group. It was safer to make sure she had no use of her hands or her mouth, though.
I was just tying off the knot when she pulled against them.
A scream of outrage left her, but it was muffled by the rag as she tried and failed to pull at my binding. I came around to kneel in front of her. Flashes of hot then cold ran through me. Dizziness was impending. The crash was upon me. I had minutes at most. Which meant I’d better not fuck this up.
She kicked out, and I took one to the mouth before I managed to catch both her legs.
Blood scented the air. A mild pain broke through the numbness setting in.
She’d split my lip.
I smiled, knowing it would scare her more than anger her further.
She shuddered. I lifted my knife.
“Kick me again and I will plant this in your thigh,” I said in a low tone. Her eyebrows furrowed. Indecision warred in her expression as she debated how serious I was. “You saw me rip your coven member’s throat out with my bare teeth. You wanna test it?”
Her face paled, the fight draining out of her muscles even as she glared at me.
I didn’t have it in me to smile again as I tied her lower limbs to the wooden legs of the chair. My hands were visibly shaking when I finished. I reached up, gripping the edge of the nicked wooden table to drag myself to my feet. By the time I was standing, spots danced in my vision.
I started for my bedroom. If the witch made a fuss about me leaving her like that, I didn’t hear it. The sound of my heart beating was a riot in my head. Blood pounded as the mother of all migraines hit me. I reached out, pressing my forehead against the door as I fumbled with the knob, trying to twist it.
Nothing beyond the gray cotton sheets in my bedroom registered. I pulled at my coat, letting it drop to the floor at my feet. Next, I peeled off my long-sleeved shirt. I took another step forward, half collapsing on my bed. The black spots in my vision were growing. The pain consuming. I reached for the laces on my boots, pulling at them furiously. I yanked on the heel of either boot, tossing both shoes aside, then laid back on the knock-off memory foam mattress.
I’d wanted to strip my pants as well. The bottom half was wet, and the air was cold. It was December in New Chicago, and not a dry one. Past the jackhammer pounding in my brain, and the twitching of my muscles, I didn’t have it in me to hold off the crash any longer.
My eyes fell closed, and darkness welcomed me.
Hot flashes plagued me, followed by bouts of freezing cold. I alternated between shivering and sweating as nightmares held me under. I dreamed of my past and present, of the mistakes I’d made. The things I’d done. The people that had died in the crossfire along the way.
I dreamed of him.
The demon that hunted me.
Black fire danced in my dreams. Lighting everything I’d seen aflame until only the ashes remained.