Page 55 of Judge of Saints and Sinners

He would come for me. And until then, I had to do what I had always done.

Survive by any means possible.

Taking a deep breath, I reached the stairs that zigzagged down my building all the way to the street. Closing my eyes, I let my body go limp. If they were going to take me, fine. But I was going to make it hard as hell to do so.

Life has always been chaotic. Why should my death be any different?

18

Justine

I’d pissed them off well and completely now. After my trick on the stairs, I’d been hurled into a dark sedan with tinted windows. I only remembered a moment though, since something wet and thick had been pressed against my nose as soon as I slipped onto the seat.

I’d inhaled, unable to control my impulse, and moments later the car moved forward. I’d fallen into a deep, anxious sleep, only to wake up here in what I could only assume was their version of a jail cell.

It was only a fraction smaller than my apartment, honestly, and had a cement ceiling and base, which had thick iron bars lining the front side of it. The other three sides were dark cement as well. When I leaned against the bars, I could see a sliver of another cell next to mine. But it appeared empty.

I was alone, unless you counted the two rotating guards who appeared directly across the warehouse-styled room that my cell had been dropped into. Beyond them, a single door led out of here, and they’d done a great job concealing any bits of the hallway beyond when they rotated.

Which left me with absolutely no idea who these people were or why they wanted me. Inside my cell, I had a little camping-style bed with crisscross legs that held a mattress and a sleeping bag. I wasn’t stupid and could see that there were two there.

They had meant to catch someone else. Not sure if it meant Nephesh or if I was still expecting another guest, but either way, I would almost welcome the company now. Anything was better than the swollen silence that seemed to echo back at me from every side.

It didn’t help that I was still struggling with motor functions after our little ride. I had no idea if it was a reaction to whatever they’d given me or something else, but I was still struggling to stand or to get my body to do what I liked. As long as I sat here, propped up against the wall, my legs out flat, it seemed to be fine.

But when I moved, it felt like the whole world was in motion. So here I sat, trying to plan out my next move, one that didn’t require the use of my legs. As of yet, nothing had come to mind.

Some hours later, food was pressed into my hand by one of the men who had been at my apartment. Unlike my two companions guarding the door, he looked like a businessman in his tailored suit. Maybe he was more important. Or maybe he was just a crap shot and didn’t make the cut.

I hid my smile as I wobbled over to the bars to take the food.

“How are you? Haven't seen you in a while.”

He glared down at me. “You disgust me, demon fucker.”

My eyebrows rose, taking my temper with them, “Oh my. Can you think of a nicer nickname? I called you Righty instead of stuck-up asshole.”

He grabbed me through the bars, one meaty fist yanking me forward, my face slamming against the iron. A moment later, I heard the jingle of keys, and then he was inside. My fear made me wild, and my hands searched across the cold floor to find something, anything to defend myself.

But there was nothing. The first kick silenced my words. The second drove me to curl in on myself as the pain filtered in. I bit back the cry that threatened and instead covered my face with my arm. “Fine,” I whispered. “Stuck-up asshole it is.”

I wished Nephesh was here. He would’ve shredded this guy and then laughed at my joke. And then we could’ve left together and never come back to this stupid building ever again.

He reared back, prepared to kick me again, when a very soft voice spoke up. “Gregory, your brother called. He needs your help.”

One of my eyes, the one that hadn’t taken the worst of the smash to the bars, peeked open.

Gregory, if that really was his name, was staring down at me. Slowly, every inch making my adrenaline race faster, he leaned over me. “Careful, demon whore. I know what you really are.” Then he spat on me, the action cutting through my already fragile confidence.

I huffed, a single tear slipping free from my eye and running down my cheek. I heard Righty, or rather Gregory, speaking to the newcomer for a short moment before the cell door slammed. Assuming I was alone again, I slowly shifted back into my sitting position, moaning a little when my head spun for a whole new reason.

When my eyes could focus, I stared down at the thermos in front of me. The one Gregory had brought. My stomach growled when I smelled the strawberries, and I could almost feel the coolness against my parched throat.

“I don’t like that flavor much.”

I flinched, my head hitting the wall a little as I stared across the cell at the door. There was a girl there—no, actually, she was a woman, just tiny with delicate features. Against the grays and blacks of the surrounding room, she was in a bright teal dress, her olive skin vibrant and healthy.

In short, she looked like she didn’t belong here at all. But based on the fact that I was on this side of the bars and she wasn’t, that fit. I picked up the thermos, shaking the contents a little.