The Demon's Half

Chapter 20

The water on my back was soothing... but not so much. My mind spun in circles. Why did we return to the museum? I remembered the guards. The possession.

The killing.

I remembered him. His voice sounding inside my head. It was invasive. I'd felt him. Known him in a way I had no right to. I shouldn't have to, and in some weird way that I wasn't ready to unpack... I liked it.

The water scalded as it poured over me, but I barely felt it. It wasn't enough. No amount of heat could burn away the grime crawling under my skin. No amount of soap could scrub off the dirt. I watched him kill someone.
My stomach twisted violently. I stepped out of the shower as fast as I could, barely made it to the toilet before I was retching, my body convulsing so hard my ribs ached. Apparently, now I was a vomiting and crying machine. No pinches mames. My fingers gripped the porcelain.
We were the same.
We shared a soul.
And it showed.
When he killed, I watched.
When he destroyed, I stood still.

A drop of water slid from my hair, splashing onto the porcelain. The walls felt like they were crumbling around me.

I had to go.
I yanked on my jeans, shoved my feet into my sneakers, and pulled Mia's pink hoodie over my head.

Grabbing the first thing within reach—a bag of cookies—I stuffed it into my bag and bolted for the door.

___________________

A bunch of unfamiliar cars crowded the driveway.
I ate the last cookie and cleaned my mouth with the back of my hand. Was her husband back? Her daughter? This was not the day to meet new people. Not after what happened with Logan.
Not after... everything.

I glanced down at myself. The stupid pink hoodie made me look like a marshmallow. Mierda.
I tugged at the sleeves anyway, like that would somehow fix it. My damp hair stuck to my neck, so I twisted it into a bun, trying to look at least somewhat put together.

The door flew open.
And, gods be damned.
The girl—the woman standing in front of me was... I wasn't even sure she was real.

"Hi! May I help you?" She asked.
She looked like she'd stepped straight out of a magazine. Or maybe some ancient myth where goddesses casually strolled around ruining lives.

"Hello?" She asked.
She was the kind of tall that made me instinctively straighten my spine so I wouldn't feel like a cockroach next to her. Her hair was golden blonde. Her green eyes were framed by lashes so long they could cast actual shadows. She was perfect. I, on the other hand, stood there like an idiota.

"Uhm... May I help you?" She tossed her hair to the left. The smell of expensive perfume reached my nose.
Aaaaand I was still staring. Still gawking like some socially inept fool.

A perfectly manicured hand waved in front of my face. "Hello?" Her green eyes narrowed as if she was trying to figure out if I was weird or a pendeja.

"Who the hell is this? And why are her eyes so big? She looks creepy."
Her lips never moved. Yet the voice was hers.
Fuck, no.

"I, uh—" I barely managed to get a word out before I heard her again.

"Please don't tell me this is her." She thought.
I already hated her.

Logan appeared behind her.
He didn't even glance at the blonde. His focus locked onto me, and in the next second, his arms were around me.

"You came back," he exhaled against my hair.
"Thank you, thirteen gods. Thank you."
His thoughts bled into mine just like hers had. My pulse went straight to a full-blown panic.
Before I could process it, the blonde's stare burned into me. Her nose scrunched, like I was something she had just stepped in.