Page 156 of Devil Inside

“What gave me away?”

“Plenty,” I say, crunching on some ice. “Who am I talking to? Name yourself.”

“Pushy, pushy...”

“Tell me your name.”

“The power of whiskey compels you...”She mimics the three stations, blessing herself, drink still in her hand, ice clinking with each station:father, ghost, and holy spirits.

“Tell me,” I insist. “I’m done playing games.”

“But we’ve just started, Jordan...”

I shake my head, chuckling. “You’re all after the same thing...”

“Oh?” She’s humoring me with her curiosity. “What’s that, soldier?”

“A warm body for the night.”

“There are worse things, aren’t there?” She rubs her shoulder against mine. “You’re not like all the other fellas, are you?”

“So I’ve heard,” I say. “I’ve got no soul.”

“They’re overrated.” She leans in to whisper in my ear. “Can I fill you in on a secret?” She glances around the bar, taking the space in. “Look around. See that guy over there?”

Young. Early twenties. College kid, most likely. Barely old enough to drink. Blond hair, cut to his ears. He’s here with a few other friends, taking over the corner booth. The second I spot him, he perks up, finding my eyes. The grin he gives sends a chill through me.

“And that woman over there?” This time, she nods toward the end of the bar. There’s a woman, late thirties, on a date with another woman. Her head tilts toward one shoulder, meeting my gaze and grinning, the coils of her oily black hair spilling over.

“Who do you think is inside them?” she asks. “Wearing their skin?”

“It’s a real meat market in here,” I say. I’m getting better at seeing them. I haven’t perfected it yet, but I’m starting to get the hang of picking out the possessed.

I see them, simmering in the skin. I always knew the dating scene was hell. I just didn’t think it wasliterallyhell.

“They all want you, Jordan. They’re hungry foryou. So tasty.A god box who doesn’t know any better. As soon as word got around about you, you had everybody all up in a tizzy.”

“Not interested.”

“You can’t just call upon us and expect us not to answer...”

The slither of eyes around the room never settles. I feel the eyes behind the eyes, that insinuating stare of a separate presence, hiding inside. There are so many of them.

So many heads turn my way. The conversation drops. The din within the room is gone almost altogether, and I’m left on the receiving end of over a dozen different gazes.

“There’s blood in the water now,” she says. “Yours, Jordan... Bottoms up.”

As above, so below.

“Sorry.” I drop a twenty on the bar, hoping that’ll settle my tab, before pushing back my stool and standing. I nod to my companion, then turn to leave. “You’re not my type.”

“Come on,” she says. “Just one more drink. For ol’ times’ sake?”

“No, thanks. I’ve got a party to—”

I hit a wall. No bricks, just flesh and blood.

“Excuse me.” Blondie is standing in front of me, blocking my way. His grin hasn’t diminished. If anything, it’s only grown wider. Separate clefts in the corner of his lips rift deeper across his cheeks, these slits in his skin reaching all the way up to his ears.