Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
That was it.
No instruction. No tips. No training. And not a single word on what a shade even is.
The good news was that worrying about my current predicament was taking my mind off the weird message I got from Tristan that morning.
Tristan: All this stuff with Lucifer and your sister sucks, but I can’t help you, Charlie. I can’t even get anywhere near you thanks to these new rules. I’ve got to focus on getting my pack and position back, so whatever you need from now on, just hit up that red-eyed shit, Belphe.
I sent him three messages since then asking what was going on, and why he wanted me to ask Ronin for help when he told me to stay away from him. But I got no reply.
I wouldn’t lie. Being left on read by Tristan hurt more than I expected it to. We were still getting to know each other, but I thought we were friends. I thought we had each other’s backs—
—but that may have just been more of my entitlement and over-reliance. I wanted my tough, strong, powerful werewolf friend to have my back and protect me, even though there wasn’t anything I could do for him.
No wonder he put up a hard boundary between us, I thought, eyes stinging. I kept whining at him about Dora when his own sibling was just murdered, and he was forced to kill his own people to get back into the werewolf wing.
Tristan big-time had his own problems to deal with. I couldn’t be the mortal leech hanging off his backside anymore. Or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself to lighten up the pain of his silence.
It wasn’t working.
Forcing it out of my mind, I grabbed Dora’s hand after Erlik shut the doors, and got as far away from our class—and Kazuya and his buddies—as we could.
Weaving through the stacks, we kept moving until the sounds of bickering demons faded.
Being that it was the basement, there were no windows or hell-light pouring through them to light our way. The only way to tell one haphazardly organized shelf from the other were the bone chandeliers and skeletal-clutched torches sticking out from the walls.
I stopped running when we were sandwiched between books on human sacrifice and recipes for hellhound and firerat stew.
“Dora, listen to me,” I whispered, grasping her shoulders. “Do you know anything about shades? Will we be safe if we stay here?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, Agata. I’ve never met a shade before. Are they nice?”
I released a low breath, flashing back to Erlik’s gleeful smirk as he slammed the door in my face. “No,” I said softly. “I don’t think they’re nice at all.” I looked around. “But... we are in a library. Maybe we can look up information on shades that isn’t a bunch of lies and hateful propaganda?”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.”
I whipped around, instinctively shoving Dora behind me as two round, large ears stuck out from behind the stacks. Big, blinking red eyes; a cute, fuzzy round nose; and quivering whiskers followed.
I moved us both back as the mouse demon came into full view. “These books aren’t going to say anything true or fair about any being who isn’t a demon, and yes,” he said, “it is because of what you guessed. Demons use hate to amplify their magic. It’s much more useful for demons to mindlessly hate everything and everyone than it is to celebrate equality and diversity.”
I blinked at him. “Uh... How...?”
“Did I know what you said yesterday?” he finished. A faint smile appeared through the gloom as he pointed to his ears. “I’ve got good hearing.”
I accepted this, because why wouldn’t I?
I also took a step back—the braying of dozens of demons demanding to rape me first echoing in my ears. “Do you need something?”
The smile remained. “I understand why you’re hesitant, but I’m not going to hurt you, and I have nothing against you for being mortal. I don’t even know how to use dark magic, so mindless hate is of no use to me—” He glanced back the way he came. “Nor should it be of use to anyone—dark magic user or no.”
I heard what he said, but I still moved myself and Dora back when he stepped closer. “Why wouldn’t you know how to use dark magic? Aren’t you a demon?”
He seemed to catch the hint because he stopped moving. Holding still, he cupped his hands and started scrubbing his ears in that cute way mice do—
—and I had to mentally smack myself upside the head for momentarily thinking he was adorable.
I wasn’t a mega-prejudiced demon-hater like my mother, but women learned at a young age to be wary of strangers cornering you in the dark.
“I am a demon,” he confirmed, “but I wasn’t raised by them. After I crossed, no demon would adopt me because of this.”