DARK SOULS (Dark Souls Series) by Ketley Allison

Author:Ketley Allison [Allison, Ketley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ketley Allison, LLC
Published: 2013-07-19T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

I kept glancing at Gwyn’s profile in suspicion.

How the hell was Gwyn grappling with a demon in its true form? Here I thought I had a ton of questions when I was talking to Derek. Now, it felt like millions.

She drove us over the Williamsburg Bridge, not even bothering to look at me as we drove back into the city. The car was silent, without even music playing as we both sat dripping in our seats, our hair sticking to our faces, hers with clear goo, mine with black. The smell of licorice was nauseating, and Gwyn cracked our windows open in an attempt to clear our stuffy confines.

She parked a few streets away from their apartment, not bothered by the fact that we had to walk a block or two covered in slime. Gwyn didn’t spare a glance at the West Village crowd as she turned onto 7th Avenue South and ate up more sidewalk with her trademark knee-high boots.

God, she was fast.

“There’s a mud wrestling bar around here?” I heard someone ask as I followed behind Gwyn. “I wanna participate!”

“Looks like you rolled in diarrhea,” someone else said to me as they passed by. I kept my eyes cast down. “You shoulda chosen the clear lube like that girl.”

I picked up my pace to keep up with Gwyn as she dove between crowds, people happily ducking out of the way to let her pass by. Probably out of fear, because even though I could only see the back of her, I sensed the scowl on her features.

She turned left again and I followed, using only human speed as I weaved around the crowds with her and ignoring all the comments and looks of surprise as we walked by. I was thankful when we finally reached her brownstone, taking the steps two at a time as I followed her inside.

After she unlocked the main door, we walked up one flight before reaching their two-story apartment, the key slipping in her slimy grip only once before she inserted it and let us in.

I felt him before I even saw him, that familiar wave of electricity flowing through my body. Asher was seated at the circular wooden table centered in the main room, hunched over and nursing a steaming mug. His eyes were cast downwards and focused on the dark liquid in his cup, as if he were trying to read shapes in the dancing, curling steam.

As soon as we shut the door, his eyes shot up, and they were scathing.

“You really screwed up this time, Gwyn,” he said as he started to rise.

Gwyn shrugged, but she remained tense, her eyes skittering around the sparsely furnished room, unsettled and highly strung. “You weren’t giving me the credit I deserved,” she finally said.

“You brought her into this?”

It was the first time I heard him yell, his fury snapping forward like loose electrical wires, and it was painful. I flinched as my charged connection with him reacted.

His eyes centered on me, taking in my disheveled state as he pointed at my torso.

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