Sweet Reckoning (The Sweet Trilogy, #3)(43)

Ew.

My stomach turned at the thought of him tearing through campus and hurting these girls in any way. He looked so innocent on the surface with that farmer-boy grin. And then his eyes flashed red again with his evil intentions and I jumped as he stepped closer.

“I still don’t like you,” he said. “Or trust you. But at least I can check my son off the suspicion list now.”

“Suspicion list?” I asked, trying to keep my eyes down and appear meek. “Sir, please. If this is about the summit in New York, I was just as shocked as you all when those angels came—”

“Just mind your own business and work for the cause. This place is fertile for a Neph of your type. You’re lucky Belial’s given you such a good setup after all the trouble you’ve been. And speaking of your old man . . .” He eyed me. “Where is he?”

He was trying to sound light and disinterested, but I wasn’t buying it.

“I don’t know, sir. I assume somewhere in Washington, D.C., now.”

“Hmph.” He continued to stare me up and down. How had I thought he seemed like a regular, nice guy at first? His eyes were so clinical and calculating. Even when he was grinning he had a menacing quality.

He pushed past me to the door, turning to speak one last time in a hushed voice. “Never forget you’re expendable. If you give us trouble again, you will disappear with no questions asked, angels be damned. Do you understand, Neph?”

My heart thumped. “Yes, Duke Pharzuph.”

“And when you see that father of yours again, tell him hell’s looking for him.”

Keeping my eyes averted, I gave a tight nod. My throat was too dry to swallow. I was suddenly paranoid about how long he’d be here on campus and what he expected of me.

“Excuse me, Duke. . . .” I hated how weak my voice sounded, although it was best that he knew I feared him. “I was just wondering, do you need me to, um, work with you tonight or anything?”

He laughed. Loudly. A patronizing sound.

“No, I don’t need you to work with me. I don’t work with Neph.” He practically spat the words. “I’ll only be here one night and I want to enjoy it. Find your own bar and send the drunks my way.”

He laughed again, low and lewd.

I felt his stare roaming my body before he finally left, and I collapsed onto the bed, shaking.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN





DARTS



It was a true testament to how strange my life had become that the best night of my life was followed by the most uncomfortable. Knowing that Kaidan’s father, a guy who was now the same freaking age as him, was leaving a trail of broken hearts all over my college campus made me ill. And not just broken hearts. That would be too tame for Pharzuph. He would push people to do things they weren’t ready for, and all the while he and the whisperers would mess with their minds—filling them with guilt and self-loathing that would plague them for years to come. He wasn’t just a campus player out for sex. He was an evil bastard out to hurt souls. A weapon in a very beautiful disguise.

All night as I sat at the bar, my knee bouncing a thousand miles per hour, I thought about what Kaidan and I had shared—how special and beautiful it had been. And then I thought of Pharzuph. My stomach turned.

Did Kaidan have any idea that Pharzuph had changed bodies? Had he received a call about his father, Richard Rowe, dropping dead at work in New York City or at his posh home in Atlanta? He knew Pharzuph planned to find me and give me the sniff test—trying to catch the scent of virginity. I wished I could call Kaidan and reassure him that it had happened and I was okay.

What a freaking mess.

But at least our plan had worked, and for that I allowed myself to smile into my beer glass. Kaidan and I were momentarily off the suspicion list. Unfortunately, my father was still on it. Big-time.

My smile disappeared.

“Hey, can I buy you another?”

I looked up at the cute boy who’d spoken. The bar I’d chosen had gotten crowded and loud, but it was mostly groups of friends, so nobody had talked to me yet. Pharzuph was probably too busy to keep an ear out on me, but I didn’t want to take any chances. Plus, there were at least six whisperers prowling through town tonight, so I had to work.

“How about this?” I asked the guy. “Let’s play darts, and the loser buys the next round.”

He sucked in air through his teeth. “I don’t know. I’d feel kinda bad making a pretty girl I just met buy my drink. . . .”

“Oho, so it’s like that, huh?” I hopped off the stool, surprised by my own ability to feel lighthearted at the moment, but sometimes boys needed to be taught lessons about underestimating girls.

And so the night passed with me kicking the butt of every guy in the bar. The girls, after realizing I wasn’t interested in their boyfriends, became my cheerleaders. Yeah, I got a few people drunk. Between the beers and shots, I pushed glasses of water their way all night, hoping to keep them hydrated.

I never forgot who I was, or the fact that I wasn’t one of them, but I still let myself enjoy their company and the feeling of being embraced by friendly strangers. We were having a great time until someone turned up the television for a breaking news story. A popular rapper had been shot after his show in D.C. while greeting fans. He had a colorful past, serving jail time, but had turned his life around and become an education advocate—an inspiring American success story. And now he was in a coma, probably going to die.