Cursed [Book 1] ✔

Chapter 23: You're Bad, You're Good, You're Bad Again...

Past 1 a.m. Tristan was probably walking home. In order to catch him before then, I rushed like the dickens. I wasn't as fast Tristan, but I was fast. I knew he would walk home from work like he always did as part of his ruse to appear human.

As I suspected, he was strolling along on his usual route back to his apartment. I came up behind him, slowing down to approach more quietly.

Tristan didn't hear me. He was whistling Sinatra's "Fly Me to the Moon." Yeah, he had a lot to whistle about. He had an easy thing going with me. Well, no more.

"What are you doing, shadow of mine?"

I was stupid to think Tristan couldn't hear me. Of course he could. His senses were keener than mine. He was a freaking demon.

We both stopped walking, and stood on the sidewalk. Tristan didn't turn around, waiting for me to answer.

Being blunt straight off was the best thing, I'd found. "I'm not your shadow. I'm the person that's going to kill you."

Still not facing me. "We're on that page again? Why?"

"Because I can't trust you."

That got him to turn around. "How so?"

His white button-down shirt was undone, giving me a show of the goods underneath. Ah, Imogen, concentrate.

"You let me think you killed that demon from our first hunt together. Yet, it was alive, and I found that out tonight because it tried to kill me."

"That's why your emotions are all over the place."

Tristan was mostly speaking to himself, unconcerned that I had uncovered his treachery.

"Yeah, genius, it's also why I'm going to kill you."

Inside, I let the fire rage white hot. It expanded, filling me up like a long deep breath of air. Just as I was about to let it out, Tristan spoke.

"That doesn't seem fair."

The fire fell from my eyes, also dousing internally. I was confused about what to do next.

Tristan continued, "How can you hold it against me that I'm not a master Djinn hunter. That's your job."

My tongue was as frozen as my fire lore. I had come to him expecting one thing, and I should have known he would deliver something else entirely for me to consider. He had turned the situation around, and I should have been suspicious. I should have been more cautious. I ignored my rationale in favor of forgiving the fiend.

"I thought you killed it. You never told me otherwise."

"You never asked."

Again, we stood in silence on the sidewalk. The wind blew my hair gently around my face. Tristan reached across the divide to tuck my hair behind my ear. It was something I would have done myself, but his gesture was so tender that I forgot about any misunderstanding between us.

"Demon hunter?" I repeated his phrase with a mocking smile. "There's gotta be a better term for that."

"There is." He returned my smile. "In the old days, your kind was called a venator."

"A venator? What is that? Greek?"

"No, it's Latin. In Greek, my kind was called a daimon."

"You are just full of useful information."

We made love four times that night, kicking the bedpost against the wall well into the morning. I thought our unions were full of emotion and intimacy, but Tristan never looked me in the eyes during.