Eternal Lover. Lynsay Sands
weeping, cradling her bitten arm and staring forlornly at the doughnuts behind the counter. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the Glutton watch the woman. It could still try to influence her, even though it looked like all the fight had gotten zapped—or bitten—out of her. My jaw throbbed, and I tasted salt on my tongue. Blech.
“Cops’re on the way,” the female clerk said.
“Terrific.” I most definitely didn’t miss the irony that I’d nearly gotten killed while getting breakfast for my cop boyfriend, who was still in bed. Some days, I think God really loves to fuck with me.
“You want to press charges, ma’am?”
“No,” I said, “that’s okay. She’s got enough troubles.” And based on how the demon was watching her with hunger in its glowing eyes, she’d have a Hell of a lot more troubles once she died. But that wasn’t my problem.
“Are you still dancing?” the pimply kid said.
“Yeah, at Spice.”
“Over on Lex?”
“That’s the one.”
The female clerk said to him, “You go to strip clubs? Ew.”
“What? They play the game there on the plasma screens.”
“That’s like saying you buy Hustler for the articles.”
“Playboy. For the interviews.”
As the two clerks bantered over the merits of skin mags, I peripherally watched a massive shape reach for the fallen marble-frosted doughnut. Yes, munch on the yummy cake, and leave me alone, there’s a good demon…. It slobbered up the pastry, then smacked its lips and belched. Then it let out a contented sigh.
I leaned back against the counter and blew out a very relieved breath. Looked like Jesse Harris wasn’t on the menu this morning. Yay, me.
That’s when my body said, “Holy fuck in Heaven, you were nearly killed just now over a freaking doughnut,” and my legs decided to stop working. I slid down to my haunches and focused on not hyperventilating.
“You’re really a stripper?” the clerk asked me, leaning over the counter.
“Actually,” I said from the floor, “I prefer ‘exotic dancer.’”
“And your name’s really Jezebel?”
“Stage name.” Among other things.
Crazy Lady was rocking on the floor, babbling about the evils of processed foods. She still didn’t see the Glutton spitting-distance from her, picking its fangs. And it didn’t really notice me; to it, I was just another flesh puppet, one blissfully ignorant of the nefarious ones walking among the humans.
Thank Gehenna for small favors. Even if it couldn’t claim me for Hell—I was many things, but a glutton wasn’t one of them—it could still try to play mind games with me. And my nerves were too shot to try to match wits with a demon. All I wanted to do was get back to Paul’s apartment, bury myself in blankets, and forget this morning happened. Well, after a quickie, anyway. (I had my priorities.)
The clerk cleared her throat, yanking me out of my daydream of me diving into bed with Paul there to catch me. “Ma’am, may I have the knife, please?”
“What? Oh, yeah.” I slowly pulled myself up and forced myself to turn away from the woman sitting on the floor and the demon loitering near her—digesting, as far as I could tell. It still hadn’t noticed me. Score one for the ex-succubus. Sliding the penknife to the clerk, I said, “Uh, so, can I get two doughnuts and coffees to go?”
“We’re out of marble frosted.”
“I’ll live.” Thankfully. “Give me two double chocolates.”
The doughnuteers gave me my order for free, which turned out to be a box of a dozen, plus two ultrasaurus-sized steaming cups of liquid caffeine. Paul would be thrilled; he had a big appreciation for doughnuts and coffee. I thanked the clerks as I carefully balanced the cups and the box. No way was I staying to talk to the police; I didn’t want to be introduced to the criminal justice system. Besides, my very own cop was waiting for me.
“Be seeing you,” said the lovestruck young thing as I walked away. Aw. He really was a sweetie.
As I shied around Crazy Lady, the Glutton hiccoughed, then looked right at me. Eep.
Grinning around a mouthful of fangs, it said in my mind: Be seeing you. Then it disappeared in a cloud of sulfur.
Shit.
I really need a vacation.
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