A chorus of giggles and a flash of something—probably a camera—and I realize that the weapon is fake. Another flash of light and I catch a glimpse of our mystery girl. At least, I think it’s her. In dark, smeared makeup and a black robe, she’s standing to my right, a few feet ahead—and she has the axe in her hands.
“This is the lamest thing I’ve ever seen,” another girl says from somewhere to our right. She snickers and flips our girl off before moving farther into the darkness. Several others come through, groups of two and three, most squealing with delight as the girl growls and swings her fake weapon.
When there’s a break in traffic, she leans her axe against the wall, partially obscured by the shadows, and slips through a cloth-covered door. I follow. There isn’t much to see. It’s a small room full of pipes and wires. There’s a large circuit board on the far wall, and a rickety table a few feet from the door. Nothing overly telling—except for the small paper cup on the edge of the table. I go to reach for it, but my periphery grows hazy and dark.
“Whoa.” I grabbed the wheel with both hands as a wave of dizziness rolled over me. “I can’t decide if doing that is a rush or it just makes me sick.”
“What did you see?”
“Not a lot. I still don’t know who this girl is, but it seems she has a second job. There was a paper cup with the Bush Gardens logo on it.” Logically that meant she wasn’t in New York, which sucked. In meant a road trip we didn’t really have time for. “Looks like we’ll be heading to Virginia.”
…
Azi had gone to feed. When it came back, the demon handed me a fifty-dollar bill, assuring me that it hadn’t been stolen or obtained by violence of any kind. It was crazy, and maybe it was the stress finally taking hold and liquefying what little good sense I had left, but I actually believed it. We’d filled the tank of Kelly’s truck and headed for the Jersey Turnpike.
The GPS on my cell told me the amusement park was four hundred and sixty miles from where we were, just outside Poughkeepsie. It equaled about an eight-hour car ride, one I wasn’t looking forward to taking with a demon. But I was hoping it would give me some time to think. There had to be a way out of this mess. A way to get Jax back front and center.
“You are quiet,” Azi said. We’d been driving for about two and a half hours now. “He has been quiet, as well.”
“Jax.” It wasn’t a question. I mean, who the hell else would it have been talking about? But the sound of his name on my lips was a small bit of comfort.
“You still cling to senseless hope. I can hear it in your tone.”
“I have to keep hoping.” I hated how small I sounded. How even I heard the defeat in my voice. “Otherwise there’s no point to any of this.”
“Suit yourself. But it is wasted energy.”
I bit down hard on my tongue. What I wanted was to argue. What did a demon know about the human spirit? It couldn’t comprehend the depths of devotion people could have toward one another. “Have you ever cared about them? The humans whose lives you screw up?”
“I don’t understand your question.”
The response was basic, but I couldn’t help noticing the way Jax’s body shifted, almost uncomfortably, and Azi leaned it farther away. “Sure you do. It’s simple, really. Do you care? Do you give a shit? Do you feel even an inkling of guilt for stealing these people’s lives? I get that you’re impressed with Jax, but what about the others?”
“The others,” it repeated. “You do not see your species clearly. Humans are inferior. They are fragile and break easily. They are weak minded and in so many cases value foolish things. I will admit this particular human intrigues me. The strength of his will and purity of his emotion for you is by far the most potent I have felt in all my years on this plane. But the others? The answer is no. I do not care. They were insignificant and fleeting. A means to an end.”
The rage that boiled up in my gut threatened to blow my head apart. I had to maintain all my focus on keeping the truck between the lines on the road.
“I admit to feeling differently about this human. About you.” From the corner of my eye, I could see it looking at me. “It changes nothing, however. The eventual outcome was put into motion the moment I was born into this body. Even if I wanted to, there is no shifting the path we must take.”
I thought I detected a note of regret, but I had to remind myself that it was Jax’s voice I was hearing. I was pinning a familiar emotion to it, probably to make myself feel better about the situation.
“You’re wrong,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. A normal person probably wouldn’t have heard me, but I knew Azi could. “About all of it. You’re wrong.”
…
It was just before dawn, and we were just three hours from the park. Azi and I hadn’t spoken since it had deemed us all worthless piles of skin and bones. My anger had abated—a little—leaving me physically and mentally exhausted.
“I imagine the park does not open for some time,” it said, breaking the silence.
“Probably.”
“Then may I suggest you find a place to sleep for several hours?”
“You might, but I’d ignore you.”
“He wishes you to rest.”