Demon Disgrace (Resurrection Chronicles Book 8)

by M. J. Haag

  “Go ask your dumb questions to the body pile the fey buried because of the breach. They’ll be able to answer you better than I can.”

  She didn’t say anything more as I climbed the stairs.

  My stomach gurgled sickeningly as the scent of whatever Emily was making for dinner penetrated my room. I rushed for the bathroom and threw up bile and mint. Stupid mouthwash.

  The sweats were starting again by the time I finished heaving and rinsed my mouth out. Desperate for fresh air, I opened my window and leaned out. The lights were already on along the wall, and shadows moved along the streets. Looking over the houses and the soft glows illuminating their windows, I let myself believe, for just a moment, that this was a normal winter night.

  The illusion burst before it could start when a fey stepped into the light and stared up at me. Then another. And another.

  I retreated and closed the window.

  Ignoring the watchful presence I had outside and Emily’s hesitant knock at my door, I paced the confines of my room.

  The tremors weren’t horrible. The random sweats sucked. But, it was the moments I swore I heard Katie whispering my name that were the worst. The pleading tone was too real. During those times, I’d curl into a ball and cover my ears and hum. When it was over, I’d get back up and pace some more. No matter what, I didn’t lay on the bed. I couldn’t fall asleep. I wouldn’t.

  Dawn’s early light was a relief. Exhausted but determined, I once again left my room in search of something that would help me.

  I asked every fey I found if they had anything for me to drink or if they would be willing to find me something. Each and every damn one of them told me no. I pleaded with most of them, crying for a few and seducing any I’d thought might be receptive to it, but nothing worked. Not even when I started snarling threats to rip off their sacs and watch them choke on their own testicles.

  Word seemed to spread after that, and the fey made themselves scarce. Good. I was tired of their hovering presences anyway.

  Tor found me when the sun had almost reached its zenith.

  “Hey, Hannah,” he said amiably. “I don’t have any alcohol for you, but I know where you can get some.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Mary and Emily are looking for volunteers to test their dating game meals. The first one is now, but no girls are showing up. Emily promised there would be a drink.”

  “Yes. A thousand times, yes. Will you give me a lift?”

  He nodded and picked me up, taking off running before I could bury my face. We were in front of Mary and James’s place in seconds.

  “Thank you, Tor. I owe you for this,” I said as he put me down.

  “You’re helping me,” he said. “I cannot have my turn until the rest have theirs. And they cannot have theirs until Mary and Emily know that this will work.”

  “Fair enough.” I patted his arm then moved up the sidewalk, glad he wasn’t going to try to call in a favor later.

  My two knocks on the door were immediately answered by James, in person, instead of a shout from his usual place in his chair.

  “This is a surprise,” I said, looking at his neat button-down shirt and crisply ironed pants.

  His gaze swept over me as he stepped aside and helped me out of my coat.

  “A surprise in equal measure,” he murmured. “Do you want to go home and change first?”

  I looked down at myself. Yesterday’s clothes looked a bit rumpled. Or were these the clothes from two days ago? I couldn’t remember anymore. My gaze caught on the dribble marks going down my front. Vomit? Maybe.

  “No, I’m good. I know Mary probably already has the meal ready and doesn’t want it to get cold.”

  He nodded slowly, still watching me closely. He took a breath like he was going to say more, then hesitated.

  Finally, he stepped aside and said, “Your dining companion is already here.”

  I smiled my thousand-watt smile and lifted my gaze to take in the room, fully prepared to drink myself silly at their dumb test run of the dating game.

  I wasn’t prepared for the sight of Merdon standing next to a candlelit table.

  “Fate fucking hates me.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Hannah, behave,” James warned. “Merdon is our guest.”

  I exhaled through my nose and mentally braced myself. I could do this. My gaze shifted to the bottle on the table. Brandy. The good stuff. Yep, I could definitely sit through a mock dinner date with Merdon.

  “All right. Tell me what to do.”

  “You’ve never been on a date before?” James asked.

  “Of course I have.”

  “Then you know what to do.”

  I rolled my eyes and headed toward the table.

  “Merdon, it’s so nice to see you.” Not even a little. “I’m glad Emily talked you into this.” I’d rather spoon my eye out. “Are you ready to start?”

  I delivered each word with flawless sincerity and a perfect smile, keeping my internal jabs all to myself. It was easy to play nice when my goal was seductively singing to me from the table’s top.

  “You smell,” Merdon said flatly.

  The smile almost slipped.

  “Thank you for noticing,” I said brightly. “It’s a new scent I’m trying, called ‘Life in Hell.’ It’s very easy to obtain now. Would you like some?”

  “Hannah,” James said warningly.

  I cut him a look.

  “Merdon started it.”

  “He doesn’t know any better.”

  I snorted and looked at Merdon.

  “He knows very well what he said was offensive. That’s why he said it, James.”

  Merdon remained quiet, his almost angry gaze locked on me. His lack of denial proved my words correct.

  James cleared his throat.

  “I’ll just tell Mary that you’re here. Why don’t you both sit? I think we can skip the whole helping with the chair routine this round.”

  “Thank you,” I said dryly, taking my own seat.

  Merdon did the same, only he did it with a goading look on his face. My fingers curled with the urge to claw his damn judgy eyes out, and suddenly the width of the table didn’t seem far enough apart.

  As soon as James disappeared into the kitchen, I propped my forearms on the table and glared at Merdon.

  “Was it your idea, or Emily’s, to be my dinner partner?” I asked.

  “Why?” The smooth tones of his voice gave nothing away.

  “So I know who to kill in their sleep,” I said sweetly.

  He leaned forward in his chair.

  “I don’t sleep.” He tilted his head. “It looks like you don’t either.”

  Two more inches closer, and his disapproving eyes were mine.

  “Thanks to you and Emily.”

  He grunted and sat back just before the kitchen door swung open.

  Emily emerged with a welcoming smile on her face and those stupid plastic cards in her hand.

  “Thank you for joining us. Tonight, we’ll be cooking duck with orange glaze, baby potatoes bathed in butter, and dilled carrots as our main course. It takes a while to prepare, so make yourselves comfortable. We’ll start you off with an appetizer and soup of the chef’s choice in a bit. While you wait, we would like you to ask each other questions. If you can’t think of any, you can use these.”

  She held out the cards to me.

  I stared at her, my mouth slightly open in disbelief for so many reasons. First, that she thought I’d actually use her stupid cards. I’d read the inane questions on them when I’d laminated them. Like “what’s your favorite color?” I didn’t give a damn about Merdon’s favorite anything. I wanted my drink and to get out of there.

  “Are you kidding me?” I said. “The food’s not even done yet?”

  When I didn’t take the cards, she shifted to hold them out to Merdon. He took them from her with a nod.

  “The food isn’t even started,” he said as she fled back to th
e kitchen.

  I glared at him then decided I’d find a silver lining in that tempting little bottle before me. I reached for it.

  “Fine. I can wait.”

  The bottle disappeared from the table. I blinked and saw it in his hand.

  “You’ll need to earn this,” he said, watching me closely. The anger and judgment were absent in his gaze. He almost looked—turned on?

  My stomach pitched. While I was fine making out with some random fey for a drink, there was no way I could do that with Merdon. No matter how bad it got, I knew he wasn’t an option. He didn’t play by fey rules, and that spelled big trouble. He’d proven that again and again.

  “No, thanks.” The words came out breathy and more than a little shaky.

  He blinked at me and tilted his head.

  “You don’t know what you need to do to earn it. Why refuse what you want most?”

  I snorted and crossed my arms protectively in front of me.

  “I can guess what you want. It’s the same thing all you fey want. Pussy, right?”

  “Hannah!” Mary scolded from the other side of the door.

  I flushed but kept my arms belligerently over my chest. Damn eavesdropper. I should have known she was standing with her ear pressed to the kitchen door so she could find out if her little experiment was working. She should have picked more agreeable test subjects.

  “You can talk about rolling pins, but I can’t say the truth?” I called back to her.

  Mary poked her head out of the door. Her pouf of white hair was neatly pinned back, and her cheeks tinted a vibrant shade of pink. She’d gone all out for this.

  “This is different,” she said. “It’s a date. Act like it.”

  “It’s not a date. It’s practice.”

  “Then practice or leave.” Her hard tone brooked no argument.

  Unfolding my arms, I swallowed down my resentment and faced Merdon. A heavy weight settled in my stomach, but I told myself what he wanted didn’t matter. If he wanted to make out or even have sex, I’d ensure I drank enough first so it’d all be fine. That’s what I did best. Drink everything away so the pain didn’t matter.

  “How can I earn my drink?” I asked, my tone dead.

  “You can answer my questions.”

  My gaze flicked to the cards on the table.

  “I thought fey couldn’t read.”

  “We can’t. The cards are for the humans. Since you didn’t want them, I’ll ask the questions, and you can earn the alcohol you crave so deeply.”

  Again with the judgment. I saw it in his eyes and heard it in his tone. Asshole.

  “Fine. Start asking. I’m thirsty.”

  “Where did you live before Tolerance?”

  “You mean before the earthquakes that freed you and destroyed everything good in the world? I lived in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma.” I slid my glass across the table to him. “Fill her up, buttercup.”

  He dribbled a few drips into the glass. I seethed but was careful to keep that reaction from my expression and my tone.

  “That’s not much of a drink,” I commented.

  “That wasn’t much of an answer. Did you have family?”

  “Yes.” I looked pointedly at the glass.

  He didn’t move.

  “I answered.”

  “With one word.”

  “First, when I answered with more words, you barely poured anything. Second, if you don’t want one-word answers, don’t ask yes or no questions.”

  “Did you have a family and what were their names? What did they look like?”

  A vise-like pressure squeezed my chest at the thought of talking about them. I should have kept my mouth shut about the simple questions. Staring at the bottle in his hand, I disconnected myself from the moment as best as I could and answered.

  “My dad’s name was Dylan. He was fifty-three years old, had a goatee, sandy blonde hair, and loved cats. My mom’s name was Heather. She was forty-five years old, short, had wavy dark brown hair, and was adopted when she was seven. They were the best parents ever, and now they’re dead. Would you like to bring up something else painful? You should ask how they died.”

  I shifted my gaze to his. He didn’t blink as he poured a tiny bit more into my glass without commenting on my suggestion.

  “What do you miss?” he asked when he finished.

  “Fucking privacy.”

  For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t pour. But he did. Cheaply again.

  “What do you dream about at night?” he asked.

  “Puppies and rainbows. Stop being cheap with those dribbles.”

  Despite my warning, he only added maybe five more drops to my glass.

  “Stop giving me fake answers,” he countered.

  “Fine. I dream of death. Of blood and infected and the hell I’ve lived since those fucking earthquakes. Want more detail?”

  He gave me a healthier dose, but not by much.

  “I want to know why you jumped.”

  The words were like a fist to my gut. I struggled to breathe for a moment as I stared at him.

  “You don’t really care about the reason. You only want to know how to fix the broken baby-maker. Every vagina counts, right? Even the ones attached to fucked up people. Give me my drink. I’ve earned what’s in that glass.”

  He didn’t push it toward me, but I didn’t let that little fact stop me from grabbing it myself and slamming back the contents. It wasn’t much more than a swallow. The liquid burned in the best way, and I closed my eyes to focus on the sensation rather than my overwhelming need to cry.

  “Emily thinks you will hurt less if you speak about what hurts you. I think you are angry and mean because you enjoy being angry and mean.”

  My eyes flew open.

  “What did you say?”

  “Your ears work, Hannah. You heard me.”

  My fingers clamped onto the edge of the table. The need to flip the piece of furniture on him and jump on it, cartoon style, while he was pinned underneath it nearly overwhelmed me.

  “I’m not small enough to hope you die,” I said in a strained voice. “No, I hope you live. Live and watch as, one by one, your precious humans fall to the infected. All your hope of a future will be wiped out before your eyes and rotting as they moan for a bite of you.”

  “Food!” Emily practically shouted as she shoved out of the kitchen with two bowls in her hands.

  She set them down before us, her gaze darting between Merdon and me.

  “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked.

  “A new dinner partner,” I said, still staring at Merdon.

  “No. Thank you, Emily,” Merdon said, turning his gaze from mine to nod at her.

  She gave him a weak smile and fled back into the kitchen.

  “Eat the soup, Hannah. I will give you more of your drink.”

  He had to know I was two seconds from getting up and walking out. Which was the only reason he’d dangled that carrot, and the alcohol was the only reason I stayed.

  Staring at the bottle, I woodenly took my first bite of soup. My stomach turned a little even though the food didn’t taste like anything. When was the last time I’d eaten anything? The eggs?

  I managed four bites.

  “I’ll take that drink now,” I said, setting down the spoon.

  He trickled four drops into the cup.

  “If you want more, eat more,” he said.

  I slowly nodded my head then got up from the table.

  “I can see how this will go. No, thanks. Keep your pathetic attempts at bribery. They aren’t worth putting up with you.”

  “Hannah, wait,” Emily called as I strode toward my jacket.

  “Screw you, Emily,” I said without looking at her. “You were supposed to be my friend.”

  “I am.”

  I left before she could lie some more.

  The wind cooled some of my anger. Just enough to keep me from screaming my frustration as I roamed the streets of Tolerance and i
gnored the fey who watched me. If only Merdon had kept his big mouth shut, then I wouldn’t be walking around far too sober and sick to my stomach. That soup had to have been off.

  Rubbing my stomach, I glanced around and wondered again where I’d find a drink in this place. What was that new girl’s name? Cheri? Maybe I could have her ask the fey for booze. They’d give it to her, and I could go to her place and drink. My initial hopefulness withered as I realized that wouldn’t work. Her fey would know what was happening and likely say something to Merdon before I managed one sip.

  Damn Merdon.

  “Hey, Hannah,” Garrett said with a friendly smile and nod as he walked past me.

  “Hey, Garrett.” My tone was flat, and he heard it.

  Pausing his stride, he looked at me.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Not really. We have all these supplies coming in, but none of what I really want.”

  He chuckled.

  “I know what you mean. Brenna, Zach, and I just went to Tenacity this morning to trade some of our surplus. They’re hard up over there and could use some extras if you have them.”

  A new plan began to form.

  “Thanks, Garrett.”

  “Anytime.”

  With a little wave, he continued on his way, and I changed directions.

  By the time Emily returned home, I was up in my room pacing. The box of goods that I had gathered from the storage shed sat by my locked bedroom door. All I had to do was make it through one night. I could do that. Tomorrow, I’d have what I needed to finally get some sleep. After that, I’d just take one day, or rather night, at a time. No problem.

  A crawling, tingling sensation moved under my skin, contradicting my previous conviction. My stomach hadn’t yet settled after those few bites of soup, either. It was going to be a long night.

  Emily knocked on my door.

  “Are you hungry?”

  I rolled my eyes and continued pacing. Unless she was serving rum cake, I wasn’t interested, and she knew it.

  My hot, gritty gaze slid to the window. A wisp of daylight remained.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about lunch,” she continued through the door. “I didn’t think Merdon would be so blunt with his questions.”

  I stopped pacing to glare at the door. Her admission had just confirmed that Merdon had told the truth about Emily’s part in what he’d been asking. I almost went to the door to tell her what I thought of her involvement. Quick thinking had me reconsidering the move. Sometimes, the best reaction was inaction. If tomorrow panned out like I hoped, tonight’s sulking silence would conceal tomorrow’s drunken silence.