Taming Demons for Beginners (The Guild Codex: Demonized #1)(39)

Male gazes burned my skin. The club’s patrons had a sleezy, disreputable air to them, and I didn’t like what they were seeing—not confident, in-control women, but two girls who were clearly lost and frazzled, one in a short dress, the other dragging a suitcase.

I grabbed Amalia’s arm and hissed, “Let’s get out of here. Quickly.”

She nodded and we hurried back the way we’d come.

“Where ya goin’?” the whistler called. “You girls lost?”

We kept walking. I fumbled with my phone, looking for the nearest hotel. There was nothing nearby. Not even a gas station where we could take shelter and get our bearings.

“Hey girlies. What’s the rush?”

My head whipped around. Four men from the Booty Lodge trailed after us, still smoking. Amalia muttered a vile curse and hitched her backpack up her shoulder. She kept her pace steady and I matched it, my heart racing.

For two blocks, the men followed us, laughing and bantering in drunken slurs. Breathing hard, I checked my phone again. There was a twenty-four-hour convenience store a block and a half away. We could hide in there.

“Come on, pretty ladies,” one of our stalkers called. “Let us buy you some drinks.”

Amalia’s jaw tightened and she glanced back. Her head snapped straight again, her face paling, and she extended her stride.

“Yeah, baby. Work that ass. Whatchya wearing under the dress?”

I rushed after her, my suitcase clattering after me, and glanced back too.

The men were gaining on us.

Fear cut through me. I didn’t want to find out what they’d do if they caught up. The street was dark, abandoned except for our urgent procession. The convenience store wasn’t in sight yet and I stretched my legs, taking the biggest, fastest steps I could without running.

“I call dibs on the little pixie girl.”

My nerve broke and I bolted.

Amalia was a step behind me, and raucous laughter rang out as the men gave chase. My suitcase bounced on its wheels, dragging at my arm, but I couldn’t bear to release it. Amalia drew ahead, her longer legs pumping—then her flimsy sandal twisted.

She fell in a sprawl. I skidded around to help her, and then the men were on us.

Amalia shoved to her feet as the group formed a half circle around us. My heart hammered in my throat and my voice had vanished again. Even Amalia had run out of insults.

The men advanced. As Amalia and I backed away, shadows closed in—we were retreating into an alley. No, the men were herding us into an alley. My throat closed. Stupidly, I was still clutching the handle of my suitcase. I couldn’t let it go. It was all I had left.

The two closest men lunged and I stumbled backward, smacking hard into a brick wall. Amalia screamed as the other two men went for her.

Leering drunkenly, a greasy, bearded man grabbed the front of my sweater and pushed me into the wall, his hot, cigarette-stale breath bathing my face.

“No!” I cried.

Heat scorched my stomach and crimson light burst through my shirt. The glow coalesced between me and the man, shoving him backward. The light flared then faded, and suddenly, a warm body was pressed against mine.

Zylas. He stood with his back against me, facing my assailant.

“What the—” the man spluttered.

Zylas seized him by the throat and threw him. The man soared ten feet, crashed into the opposite wall, and slumped to the ground, stunned. My second attacker backed away, his face a mask of horror.

The other two creeps looked around at us. “Who the hell is that guy? Where’d he come from?”

Zylas turned his glowing red eyes on them and his husky laugh rolled through the dark alley. Silence shivered between the men, then they bolted. The one Zylas had thrown scrambled after them, groaning with each pained breath.

Eyes gleaming, Zylas bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, as though warming up for a sprint, then stepped after them.

Panic gripped me and I flung myself at him. I smacked into his back, and when he didn’t stop, I grabbed him around the middle, my hands clamped over his stomach.

That he noticed. He twisted to peer at me over his shoulder.

“Stop!” I gasped. “No one can see you, remember?”

“Then I will make sure I am not seen.” His mouth curved up. “A challenge, na? Will be fun.”

“No! Just stay here. You can’t protect me if you’re chasing them.” I unwrapped my arms from his bare stomach. He needed clothes with better coverage.

His tail flicked. “She has seen me. I can kill her.”

I jerked around.

Amalia was pressed against the wall, her face white and mouth gaping in a horrified O. When we looked at her, she sidled away from us.

“Uh,” I squeaked. “I—I can explain—”

“You’re a contractor?” she whispered in disbelief. “You said you didn’t know anything about Demonica …”

Zylas canted his head. “I should kill her, yes?”

“No!”

“The demon is talking,” Amalia added, her voice faint. Her legs gave out and she sat heavily on the dirty pavement. “Contracted demons can’t speak. They give up their voices when they give up their autonomy.”

Zylas’s fingers curled, his claws extending past his fingertips. I grabbed his arm and clutched it to my chest. He probably wouldn’t hurt me but Amalia was in danger.