Personal Demon (9781101589632) by Sizemore Susan

Author:Sizemore, Susan [Sizemore, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101589632
Publisher: Penguin USA
Published: 2012-09-24T16:00:00+00:00

chapter twenty-two

Goddess, how her head hurt! Ivy could barely see out of her swollen eyes. She couldn’t stop crying for those poor people and hated that she couldn’t stop. They were dead. Gone. Taken out of life, out of their families’ and friends’ lives. There were three blank spaces in the world. Why? For what?

Oh, she knew—suspected—the reasons for the murders. Stupid, stupid, useless reasons. Magic, for crying out loud! Psychic power games that had so little real effect in the world.

Magic worked. For some. So what? It was just a goddess-damned bad allergy! Trying to take over the world with spells that didn’t work on 90 percent of the population was old-fashioned and stupid. Why couldn’t people accept that magic was more affliction than tool and get on with living their lives the best they could with what ailed them?

Of course, she couldn’t explain that to the cops, who insisted on talking to her one after another, starting with the uniformed cop who came running in response to her screaming. More cops arrived. The uniform was followed by a detective.

Questions. Suspicions.

Yeah, it did look like she’d deliberately come hunting for the bodies, didn’t it? She didn’t blame them for looking at her suspiciously. And she couldn’t stop crying. She’d been led away from the crime scene. But she couldn’t stop seeing the bodies. Grief took her over, and she had to cry it out and get her head clear.

More cops arrived, informing her that they were homicide detectives, this time. Selena wasn’t among them. She was asked to explain again. She could tell they were annoyed when she told them exactly what she’d said twice before. Was she supposed to say something suspicious? Nervously change her story as a sign of some sort of guilt? Or was keeping to the exact same story a sign of guilt? She resented their suspicion even though she knew that assuming people told the truth wasn’t in their job description. Not that she could tell them the whole truth.

Then the media showed up, kept away by even more cops, but their helicopters circled over the park. The sick, greedy excitement pouring off the media did nothing to help the shaky emotions she couldn’t bring under control.

It would be an insult to ghouls to compare the news crews to them.

Why hadn’t she controlled herself? Why hadn’t she taken out her cell phone and called Selena? No. She’d screamed, and that scream, her weakness, could destroy Chicago’s magical community. She knew people were already thinking and talking about ritual murders.

Why hadn’t she called Selena?

Selena was from the magic world and a homicide cop. Maybe she should ask them to call Selena. No. It was better not to draw attention to any connection between them.

“Can I go?” she finally asked. “I’ve told you everything I know.”

“I don’t think you’ve told us everything,” a big, belligerent detective said. He got up in her face, and he’d had onions and cigarettes for breakfast. “What are you crying about? Feeling guilty about something?”

A hand landed on the detective’s shoulder.

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