The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(30)

Expression stuck in a snarl, I pumped soap onto my hand, wincing as it hit my cracked bleeding skin from my demon-inspired obsessive hand washing. Kicking the vanity door didn’t help. It hurt my toes and did nothing to make me feel better.

What kind of sick sadists threw a total newbie into proving herself like that? Those two would have let me die and chalked it up to my incompetence. I grabbed some toilet paper and blew my nose.

Forget the demons, these people were the monsters.

There was a soft rap at the door. “Nava?” It sounded like Kane but I wasn’t sure so I didn’t answer. “Babyslay, let me in.”

I debated ignoring him some more, but I was going to need an escort to get out of this place unharmed and Kane seemed like my sole ally. I tossed the toilet paper into the bowl and unlocked the door.

The first thing I noticed was his terrible taste in shirts. A paisley pattern in lurid purples, it was a bold look. A look that slapped itself on the crotch and said, “Here I am.” I respected that about it.

The second thing I noticed was the compassion in his eyes.

The third was the Gatorade he held out to me.

I chugged half the bottle in one go, before pressing it in sweet relief against my forehead. “I don’t even like this shit.”

“Doesn’t matter. Your body craves the electrolytes to recharge after using your power. You’ll learn to keep stashes handy.” Kane leaned back against the closed door. “Our powers don’t manifest the second they do the induction ceremony. I don’t know if anyone told you that.”

“I’ve been told very little about this process.”

“It means that a lot of us find ourselves in extremely embarrassing situations when it shows up.”

“Was yours bad?” I asked.

He laughed mirthlessly, his hip braced against the door. “Dad had this vintage Ferrari convertible. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life. He’d take me out for rides.” Kane’s expression grew dreamy. “We wouldn’t even talk. It was all about feeling the curve of the road. The sun on our faces and the wind in our hair.”

The past tense of this didn’t sound good. “What happened?”

“After I became Rasha, my parents were so thrilled that Dad said I could take her for a spin. So long as I washed her first, she was mine for the rest of the day.” A wistful look came over his face, as he leaned back against the door. “I think I was more excited about that then fighting demons. Picture it. This perfect summer day. This perfect specimen of a man washing this perfect car.”

I gave the requisite smile.

“Do you know the effects of water and salt on iron?” he asked.

“Rust,” I replied, confused at the change in topic.

He nodded and held out his arm. “Look, but don’t touch.” His flesh broke out in an oily sheen. An iridescent purple flecked with tiny white crystals. “It’s a salt-based poison.”

I would have guessed that from the smell alone. My mouth watered bitterly. I raised my eyes to his and gasped. Even his face was coated with it.

“One bad touch and the demons die,” he said.

I peered at his flesh, fascinated. “What about if a person touches it?”

“Trust me. You don’t want to know.” The sheen disappeared from his body.

I reached out to touch him but he flinched away, shaking his head. “Wait.” He turned on the tap and dispensing a good handful of liquid soap with his clean hand, washed where the poison had been. “Until I clean off, I can still burn you.”

“I’m sorry.” That seemed like it might be a lonely existence.

“It’s always the pretty ones you have to look out for.” He shrugged. “I can control it. Now. But the poor, wet car? When my powers showed up?”

“Rusted,” I gasped.

“Instantly.”

“What did your dad do?”

An unreadable expression flashed across his face. “That, dear girl, is a story for another day. All this to say: your. Power. Is. Fabulous!” His face brightened. “Do you know how many asshole dates I could have cut short with it?”

“I am not giving demon hand jobs.”

Kane pulled the hand towel off the rack and wiped his dripping face and arm dry. “While I can’t wait to hear the story of your first kill, Baruch and Rohan just did what they’d do to any new member.” His eyes widened theatrically. “Oops. Phrasing.”

I prodded the side of my head, wincing at the bright burst of pain. “Except I wasn’t trained my whole life for this. It was horrible. A super unfair trial by fire.”

He placed his hand on my shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “It’s your life now, babyslay. But it doesn’t mean you have to go it alone.”

No, it just meant that Ari had to. Still, I smiled back. “Thanks, Kane.”

“Anytime.” With a wink, he took my empty sports drink bottle.

Baruch was waiting for me outside the door. “I made you a sandwich.” Guilt food. Good. Those usually came with extra side dishes.

He led me into the kitchen, my stomach gurgling. On the large table by the sunny window, Baruch had laid out two plates along with big glasses of very cold iced tea from a blue glass pitcher.

There was a distinct lack of sides, but I accepted the peace offering of shaved meat, sliced bocconcini, and tomato on a crusty Portuguese bun. I sank into a chair, eager to dig in.