Hellion: Asylum of Ash by Jenna Lyn Wright

Author:Jenna Lyn Wright [Wright, Jenna Lyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2017-12-15T18:30:00+00:00

7

I’ve been lying here for hours thinking about the doctor’s heart in Ruby’s hand and the blood on Winter’s mouth and the spark in Mad’s eyes when she told me about her grandmother’s spells. I wonder if I look that way when I talk about my parent’s deaths.

After what feels like hours, there’s a soft knock on my door. I sit up, frowning. It must be time for my appointment with Doctor Kavanagh, but the orderlies never knock, they just barge in and grab us.

I open the door and realize the reason for the change. Normally, the orderly is a doughy thirty-something with bloodshot eyes and crumbs in his beard. Our walk is slow, silent, and uneventful in the extreme.

Today, an angular man has come to get me, with cheekbones that could cut glass and a shock of silver-white hair, despite being no more than mid-twenties. I get the feeling that if he weren’t dressed in his work uniform, he’d be wearing a vest and a watch with a pocket chain.

It’s a nice change of pace, aside from the fact that he’s a demon.

Every cell in my body goes on alert when I realize it. I’ve never seen anyone in a position of power in this place that wasn’t a human. The possibility that I’m crazy and seeing things doesn’t cross my mind, not after the friends I’ve made. There’s no way the people in charge would hire a supernatural, not with what they’re putting me and my friends through in here. They must not know what he is. So why is he here?

I have no choice; I have to go with him.

“Tomato soup today in the cafeteria,” he says. “Was never my favorite.”

“And a poor choice in an asylum. Very messy, especially if someone gets agitated.”

He smirks, flashing his sharp teeth. “If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you been here?”

“Shouldn’t you know that?”

He shrugs, as if embarrassed. “It’s my second day.”

He’s lying.

“Two weeks,” I admit.

He nods as if that means something to him, or I’ve helped him solve a piece of a puzzle. We’re just about to reach Kavanagh’s office when he says, “What did you think of the little scene last night?”

Faint alarm bells begin to ring in the back of my skull. He can only mean Ruby. I glance over at him, plastering a look of confusion on my face, and reply, “What scene?”

“The incident with Miss Ríos.”

My heart thuds like a hammer and I’m sure he can hear it over the squeak of his shoes on the freshly-polished tile. He’s working hard to maintain an air of calm, but his black eyes are intense, two bottomless voids and they bore into me, digging for answers that I don’t want to give.

“Oh, you mean this,” I say and point to my black eye. “That was intense. I mean, I was just sitting there, trying to eat my delicious potato substance, and out of nowhere I get a fist in the face and my lunch splattered on the wall.

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