“Good,” I muttered under my breath as I stumbled inside. Using the toe of my boot, I nudged the door, and it swung shut behind me, closing with an audible click. There was a whirring sound before the lock went back into place.
My apartment was spacious, at least by most human standards. Two bedrooms, a working bathroom, kitchen, and living room. It was filled with mismatched but comfortable 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.
When I finally opened my eyes, cold sweat coated my skin. My muscles felt sore, and my head still pounded.
The crash, as I’d called it, had run my body through the wringer.
I let out a shaky breath, my abdomen clenching as I hauled myself up in a sitting position. The door to my bedroom was wide open. Between here and there, my clothes littered the floor, like I’d had a one-night stand after too many drinks. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
If the clothes weren’t proof enough, the grunt that came from my living room reminded me just how much I’d fucked up my last mission.
I glanced over at the battery-powered clock on my nightstand. It was past four in the afternoon.
I got to my feet and dragged my exhausted ass out of my room and toward the bathroom. Another grunt drew my attention as the witch I’d captured pulled at her bindings. For someone that had cowered right before I knocked her unconscious, she was being awfully brave.
I turned on my heel and lifted both eyebrows. Whatever I was going to say dried up on my tongue as I took one look at her. Light brown hair stuck up in odd angles, strands of it were plastered against her sweaty face. Her lips were chapped, and her cheeks splotched and ruddy. The brown eyes that stared back at me were bloodshot and angry.
She was sick.
The grunts weren’t simply for my attention, but to clear her throat. Or at least attempting to.
I’d left her in her wet, sopping cloak for I don’t know how long, and I was too cheap to pay for heat. While most supernatural creatures wouldn’t fall ill to the elements, or anything else, witches and warlocks were the weakest on that front. Their bodies were mortal.
I let out a sigh. This was really the last thing I needed to deal with right now.
Not when I needed answers.
My eyes strayed to the second bedroom.
“I’m going to shower, and once I feel human again—I’ll try to figure out a solution for your . . .” My words trailed. Her eyes narrowed. “Predicament.”
Turning on my heel, I shut myself in the bathroom. Not wanting to look at my reflection, I flipped the shower on and stripped the rest of the way. I clambered in as soon as steam started to rise above the curtain. It wasn’t until I was washing the conditioner out of my hair that I noticed the bruises around my wrists.
The memory of his hands wrapped around me, his skin pressing against my own. It made me shiver.
Hatred, I told myself. Disgust.
He was a demon. Not a man. Not truly.
I finished washing myself and flipped the water off. Shoving the curtain aside, I stepped out onto the plastic bathmat. With a faded pink towel, I dried my skin and wrung my long blonde hair out in the tub.
When I opened the bathroom door, cold air kissed my skin. I strode across my tiny living room and closed the door behind me when I entered my bedroom, letting the towel drop.
First thing, I rehung my trench coat and emptied it of weapons. Then I dressed in black jeans and another long-sleeved shirt. Using a utility belt, I strapped a gun on each hip.
I opened my bedroom door and regarded the witch coolly.