The Demon's Half

Chapter 12

The garden was stunning—almost surreal in its beauty. Even when Moonvile was always cold, this garden was somehow warm. I immediately regretted using my hoodie. There were rows of vibrant flowers all around the pond, rippling softly beneath the breeze, framed by ancient oak trees. And a huge blossom tree at the end.

Logan leaned closer, "something else, isn't it?"

"Yeah, how did Elena—" I started, but he cut me off before I could fumble my way through what was probably a very, very rude question.

"My dad has money. But mom refuses to just sit around. So, the department store it is."

"If I had this kind of wealth, I don't think I'd be clocking in at a nine-to-five."

Ni de pedo.

His lips quirked into a smirk as he plopped down onto the nearby bench. "Well, rumor has it your own housing troubles have mysteriously resolved themselves." He made air quotes. "Bills paying themselves, food restocking out of nowhere... courtesy of some parasite, right?"

His teasing made me roll my eyes, but I couldn't fight the smirk tugging at my lips as I sat beside him. "Okay, someone's nosy. Do you always eavesdrop?"

He laughed—Damn. When was the last time I'd heard someone laugh like that?

"Guilty. But you're an interesting case."

Puta locura. This beautiful man that fought spirits and demons thought I was interesting?

"Why do you keep working, anyway? You just said you wouldn't if you had the choice."

"I guess I needed a distraction." My fingers twisted together in my lap. "I couldn't stand being—"

"Alone," he said. His eyes stayed on the water. Aware that I was watching him, he pulled a knife from his pocket and twirled it between his fingers. "First lesson. Ready?"

"A knife?"

"Dagger."

"If I start carrying one of those around, people might assume I've lost it."

"Am I to assume you had it at some point?" Logan teased as he stood, offering me his hand to stand. I laughed despite myself. It was becoming annoyingly easy for him to make me laugh. "You won't need to carry one of these. You just need to know they exist—"

A blur of fur, paws, and an overwhelming amount of slobber pushed me to the ground.

"Oopsie Daisy! Max—off!" Logan's voice rang out.
A sharp whistle followed, and the three dogs stopped their enthusiastic assault—but not before completely drenching me in drool.
I laughed, wiping my face.

"Sorry about that," he said, offering me a hand. His grin was sheepish, like he wasn't entirely sorry.

"You have dogs!"

"Three," he said as the canines wagged their tails. "They don't usually tackle strangers. They must like you."

Logan watched the three dogs with a look that was so full of love, it was poetic.
The golden retriever had a coat like actual sunlight. The other two were jet-black pit bulls, their sleek bodies lean and strong, but it was their eyes that got me. Bright blue, like they could see straight through me.

"She's Daisy," Logan said, nodding toward the retriever. "And those two troublemakers are Max and Oopsie. Siblings. Their father was my father's dog."

He crouched, ruffling their fur like they were the best thing in the world. And from the way their tails wagged like they were about to take off, the feeling was mutual.