3
Harper
It doesn’t take much convincingto get me to leave the creepy cathedral like room. I know I have to get out of this building and get away from these weirdos. Like I believe a single word any of the crazies said in there. As if I’m going to attend their stupid brainwashing program. Who the hell calls their brainwashing system an Academy anyway? Is that supposed to give it more legitimacy?
We’re back in the hallway where I initially ran. The same wall of dudes in suits blocks the potential exit. I frown at them, wondering how I’m going to get out of here.
Adrian stops walking and I stop next to him. “What?”
“Before you try anything stupid, you should know that they set you up,” Adrian says.
“I wasn’t thinking anything like that,” I lie.
He cocks an eyebrow and I notice again how incredibly handsome he is. I have a serious problem. This guy stood by and did nothing while someone murdered my friends in cold blood. He is just as bad as the rest of them.
“First of all, you shouldn’t judge when you don’t know the whole story. I’m just as much a prisoner here as you are. And second, yes, you were thinking about how you could get back to your home,” he says.
My jaw drops open and I blink at him. How the hell does he know all of that?
“I can read minds,” he says, as if he’s tired of explaining it. “And thank you for the compliments.”
I want to smack the cocky grin off his face. “That’s not possible. People can’t read minds.”
“You really aren’t getting it are you?” he asks. “We’re not human. None of us down here are human. Well, at least not those of us walking around freely, or semi-freely.”
“Back up,” I say. “First, explain what you first said. About them setting me up. What are you talking about?”
“The human cops probably already found your friends. And they found all traces of you being there. Including your handprints in the blood. And you’re not there. Your footprints lead away from the scene.”
My blood runs cold. “You can’t be serious.”
“That’s what they do,” he says.
“I didn’t kill my friends. I’ll just explain it to them. I’m tell them the truth.”
“Good luck with that,” he says. “I’m sure they’ll believe you, that a demon from Hell killed your friends and set you up to take the fall.”
My head is spinning.Demon.Angel. Why does everyone keep saying things like this? “You’re one of those cults that believe you’re sent here by god or something, aren’t you?”
He laughs. “Come on, I’ll explain it to you on the drive.”
My mind whirs with the new information about my friends and I don’t doubt that I’ll be the primary suspect if I return. After all, who leaves the scene of a murder like that?
The men in the suits keep their faces straight ahead but I can feel their eyes following us as we walk down the hall. I’m glad we’re getting away from them.
“So you’re a ...” I ask, not sure how to follow that.
“Demon. Lesser demon to be exact. Cursed with telepathy,” he says.
“And the scary blonde dude was?” I ask.
He chuckles. “That was Alastor Drake. He’s one of the princes of Hell. He runs this kingdom.”
“Prince of Hell?” I ask, letting the words bounce around in my head.
“You really have no clue, do you?” he asks.
I shake my head and focus on the hallway around me. Unlike the room I woke up in, this hallway is made to impress. The floor is gray marble and the walls are covered in a white and gold shimmering wallpaper. How could that man be a prince of Hell? We look like we’re in an upscale hotel, not the fire and brimstone I pictured when I thought about the Underworld.