DEMON SENSE (Completed)

Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

The next morning I awoke to an incessant tapping on my door.

Go away.

The rapping continued.

“What,” I grumbled into my pillow, still half-asleep.

My door creaked open and closed as the visitor entered. I felt the edge of my bed sink in a little as my unwanted company took a seat beside my semi-conscious body.

“Wake up sleepy head,” Larson cooed.

I rolled over to look up at him with an aggravated glare, “Don’t I ever get a day off?”

“Never,” he chirped.

“I hate you.”

Larson grinned, giving me a glimpse of his fangs. “You love me.”

“Yeah, you tell yourself that,” I said thrusting the covers over my head. “I guess, seeing as how you’re alive and pestering me, things went smoothly with Trish?”

 “Oh yes, things went brilliantly. I tried interrogating her last night after she regained consciousness, but her vocal cords hadn’t quite healed yet. Until she can properly answer some of my questions, I have confined her to the basement.”

I bolted upright. I couldn’t be more awake if someone had shot my heart up with a vial full of concentrated caffeine. “That whore is in my house?”

“Well, technically, no. She’s in Nathan’s house,” he corrected.

“Whatever. That basement is more mine than his—I’ve never even seen Nathan step foot in there.” Okay, so I didn’t own the basement, but I felt it should be mine by right.

He wore a satisfied smirk. “Would you feel better if I asked you to join me in cross-examining her?”

“Yes.”

He gave a full, hearty laugh. “Very well.” Larson eyed my I Heart Pink nightshirt, and said, “Why don’t you put on something a little more intimidating, and meet me in the hallway?”

I blushed. “Yeah, sure.”

As soon as I was alone, I pulled together the most menacing outfit I owned, which really wasn’t so much threatening as it was just void of any happy colors. I wore dark jeans, black boots, and a black long-sleeved v-neck. Since it seemed appropriate, I pulled my hair back into a severe, sleek ponytail, and made sure to wear plenty of eyeliner.

I didn’t bother with a shower, because Larson was waiting, and I figured I’d just take one after. I had quickly scrubbed my face before applying my new look, though, since I’d forgotten to do so in all the chaos of last night. After a few spurts of my favorite perfume, I was all set to go.

Larson waited for me just outside my door. Taking in my appearance, he grinned. “You look right fierce, love.”

“Shut up. Let’s go.” I took off down the stairs, and he followed.

We passed Nathan, who sat at the kitchen bar starring into a half-empty cup of coffee (he eventually learned how to make the stuff properly). My stomach knotted up at seeing him, but if my presence made him uncomfortable, he didn’t show it. In fact, he didn’t seem to notice either of us.

“Morning, Nethaneel,” Larson said in passing.

When Nathan didn’t even offer a glance of acknowledgement in return, Larson turned back to me and mumbled, “Christ. What’s gotten into him?”