DEVILS INC.

Chapter Seven

As we leave campus, I can still see big black birds plummeting in and out of the square. They look like they could be fighting over a dropped sandwich. But they're not.

They're fighting over zombies.

I should be scared. That would be the logical response. Truth be told, my body emulates something like fear. My palms are clammy, my heart beats fast, and my body is so full of energy I find myself tapping my foot. It's not fear though. It's adrenaline. I'm pumped up. I haven't had a fight like that in . . . well, ever. What with my opponents being dead and all.

As Crow drives toward the center of town, my brain kicks violently into gear, screaming that I'm in a car with a strange creep who controls birds. I think he notices the change because I see a quirk tug at the side of his lips out of the corner of my eye.

"What the hell is going on?" I demand.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to freak out," he says.

"Yes, well. Now you know," I snap.

As we pass Evie's Garden Bar, Crow waves at someone—or something—in the alley by Apocalypse. But then we're passing by the small church at the end of the street and turning onto the road leading to the freeway.

"I told you, there was a seven-car pileup this morning," he says.

"Oh. And that explains everything."

"It does, actually."

"Right. So there was an accident on the freeway, some people died. And the logical next step in that story is that they came back to life again to attack me on campus. How obvious. How—oh, shit!" I look over my shoulder as we take the on-ramp. "We should tell someone. What if they attack someone else?"

"They won't. No one else can see them," he says. "Just you. And they didn't come back to life. They're dead."

"They didn't seem dead."

"Really? See a lot of people with protruding bones and hanging flesh, do you?" He raises his eyebrows, gaze still fixed on the wide road ahead. "Definitely not recruited for your brains, eh, little Demon?"

At that, all I can do is splutter.

He laughs. "I forgot how fun these little jobs were. Fun for a while, anyway. I'm going to need you to suspend your disbelief soon, or it's going to get boring."

"Oh. Well, I'd hate that. For you to get bored."

"You might." He catches my eye. "I'd have to find some other way to amuse myself."

I stiffen. I jumped into a car with this guy because he helped me out, but what do I actually know about him? He's been following me, I might have seen him creeping around the locker rooms, and he showed no restraint when it came to exhibiting violence.

He's strong too. I felt it when he caught my fist.

"Are you threatening me?"

"I told you last night, that's my job."

I glance out the window, then at the door handle. The traffic means we're moving slowly—I could probably make a run for it.

The locks click.

"Unlock the doors," I say.

He holds my gaze a moment longer. "Just messing," he says, turning his head back to the cars in front of us. "I'm not a threat to you. Not on this contract, anyway. I just meant I might ditch you. You're not exactly worth very much."

"Excuse me?"

He laughs again. "There you go. You're still amusing. You'll be fine."

I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and lean back against the headrest. "You're a dick."