Neon Blue E Frost (speld decodable readers .TXT) đ
- Author: E Frost
Book online «Neon Blue E Frost (speld decodable readers .TXT) đ». Author E Frost
âYou leave my friends alone,â I hiss once he hands me into the passenger seat and slides behind the wheel.
âYou got me all wrong, sweetness. Again. I was just beinâ friendly. Your receptionist anâ nurse, they ainât got enough juice between them to make a margaritaââ
âA what?â
âYou know, the cocktail? Tasty. Anyway, I got no interest in them. Anâ your dragon friend, her soulâs already spoken for. Last thing I want is fifty generations of Revered Ancestors on my ass.â
Having met some of Linâs ancestral ghosts, I can understand that. I chuckle, and let my irritation drain away. âReally. So, where are we going?â
âWherever you want. Whereâs the best shoppinâ?â
I stifle a sigh. Itâs so much easier with a magical horse. âHead through Cambridge to Mass. Ave. and up to Davis Square. We can park up somewhere and walk up the bike path.â
The demon nods like he knows exactly where Davis Square and the bike path are. Maybe he does. Heâs had plenty of time to explore Cambridge and Somerville while Iâve been working, but I had the impression he was doing other things. Like taking souls and killing smoke demons.
While Jou drives in his utterly smooth and assured fashion through the afternoon traffic, I open the bag heâs given me and wriggle around in my seat, trying to pull on the cable-knit sweater and slide out of my shirt without flashing my bra at the world. Watching me, Jou chuckles. âCast a glamor if youâre feelinâ modest.â
I shake my head. Then wonder why not. âDo you use magic for everything in Heâuh, when youâre at home?â
âYou can call it Hell, sweetness. Everyone else does. Anâ no. Power shouldnât be wasted.â My feelings exactly. âBut you got it to spare.â
I shrug. I have been feeling . . . full since the demon crashed into my life. Maybe full isnât the right word. Bountiful. Not overflowing but . . . abundant. Like fall. As soon as I think that, my mind recoils. I do not want to be harvested. Not in any sense.
I finally get the sweater on and my faded shirt off. The sweater fits me perfectly, just like everything else the demonâs given me. âHow do you know my size?â I ask.
âBy feel,â he says with his wicked leer. âJacket goes over that.â
I fish the plum cloth out of the bag. Unfolded, itâs a soft velvet blazer. I lay it across my lap. Iâll appreciate the jacket once weâre outside but itâs too warm in the car.
âCheck the pocket,â Jou says.
I fish around in the blazer pocket. Cool metal. I pull out a handful. Itâs a small chain of linked roundels: baroque pearls, silver and enamel beads. I roll it between my fingers, feel the pearls warm. The enameled beads are patterned with tiny blue roses. Like the one still sitting on my bedside table.
âJou,â I say softly. âItâs beautiful.â
âThought you might like it. Less threatening than those bindings, huh?â
I glance at him guiltily, but he doesnât look angry, or annoyed. He looks pleased with himself. I look back at the bracelet quickly before he notices my expression. âIâll help you put it on when we stop,â he says.
I nod. Clasps are not my best thing. âI havenât got you anything.â I feel like Iâve missed an anniversary, which is ridiculous, since weâre not even dating.
Jou chuckles. âYou can gimme a blow-job later.â
I swat his shoulder.
In the death triangle of Davis Square, a parking space magically opens for the demon. I donât know how heâs doing it, but he must be glamoring the other drivers somehow. Before I lost my license, I could drive around Davis Square for an hour and never even glimpse a space in the distance.
Jou parallel parks. No one even honks at him while heâs reversing.
âThatâs obscene,â I tell him.
He chuckles as he slides out of the car and collects a real wicker picnic basket out of the trunk. Where does he get this stuff? Then he comes around the passenger side. I climb out before he can do the annoying male door-thing and loop the jacket and jute carrier over my arm. He holds out his hand and after I second I realize heâs offering to help me with the bracelet. I hand it to him, then hold out my left wrist.
As I do, my heart seizes. The bindings. Surely heâll be able to see what the Squireâs done on close inspection?
He loops the bracelet around my wrist and squeezes the magnetic clasp shut. The rest of the bracelet looks old, with the natural pearls and cloisonné beads, but the clasp is modern and solid.
Shivering, I look up into the demonâs eyes.
He smiles at me. Takes my hand and leads me towards the corner cross-walk.
My heart stutters back into a trip-hammer beat.
As we wait at the corner for a turning car, the demon turns to me. âSomethinâ wrong, sweetness?â
I shake my head. Grope around for anything to say to divert him. âHow do you know where youâre going? Have you been here before?â
The demon glances across the square, then leads me into the entrance to Linear Park. âDonât think so. âCourse, it all looks different now, but I donât think I came this far south before. Iâm followinâ your memories.â
âI thought you werenât in my head.â I donât feel him, not even when I reach for him. Has he figured out a way to lurk in my mind, like a phantasm?
âIâm not,â he says.
Well, thatâs a relief. âThen how . . . uh, wait, you havenât, like, absorbed all my memories or something, have you?â Because that would be very creepy.
He chuckles. âIâve got a thousand years practice rememberinâ shit, sweetness. You think I canât remember the couple hundred places you been?â
âOh.â I mull through the ramifications of that as we stroll together down the asphalt path. The traffic noise and pedestrian traffic fade behind us, until we walk down the leafy green tunnel of the bike path, with only the crunch of our feet on dry leaves and the occasional whizz of
Comments (0)