Page 69 of Property of Crypt Keeper

“You’re weird,” she repeated, plain as day. The child shrugged. “Most adults don’t ask that.”

For a moment, I considered explaining that most adults weren’t ancient demon assassins. Instead, I said, “Well, what do you normally do?”

She considered that. “Read.”

That surprised me. “Read what?”

“Everything.”

Fair enough. Silence returned. I hated silence unless I was alone. The child apparently didn’t. She continued staring at me.

For a while, I tried pretending that wasn’t happening.

“Don’t you have these books you love to read here?” I asked.

“I’ve read them all.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course she had. Warily, I stared at her, unsure what to do or say next.

Then—she sniffed.

Once.

Twice.

Her eyes narrowed.

Uh oh.

“Why do you smell like Crypt?”

“I do not!” I nearly choked. Actually choked. A real physical cough escaped before I could stop it.

The child looked delighted. “You do!”

I recovered quickly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You smell like him.” Another sniff. “Like exactly like him.”

My face heated. Which was absurd. I was a demon. Demons did not blush. Especially not because of five-year-olds.

“I don’t,” I repeated.

“You do.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

I was losing an argument with a child. An actual child. This was a new low.

Five minutes later, it got worse.

“Are you Crypt’s girlfriend?”

I stared at her. “No.”

Immediate answer. No hesitation. No uncertainty.