Slip Away

N o fucking way am I attending that Hackers Collective bullshit I’m supposed to go to with Zavida. Until he gets his head out of his ass, I refuse to go to some stupid extracurricular where I will know absolutely nothing about what to do and be forced to appeal to him for help. He wasn’t an asshat during Intro to Fae, but I could tell he had shit running through his big brain.

Hell if I know why; I didn’t bother him.

Since I have four damn hours until dinner and I know at least three of the guys do as well, Dottie and I avoid the dorm. Instead, I give them the slip via a bathroom excuse and take off on my own. Using the map on my app, I take a spin through the academic building, finding all the offices, the laundry, the athletic facilities, and everything else I’ve missed this week. Knowing how the buildings work in terms of layout calms my anxiety a little, and once I’m done there, I head for the library building to go through all of its nooks and crannies as well.

Looking around carefully, I dart outside, headed for the Arena. It’s near to the freshman academic area, and I’d like to see where I’m going to be expected to perform like a fucking monkey, eventually. As I walk in, I take the first set of stairs, monitoring my surroundings with each step. I won’t forget that douche Roquefort’s promise or even the taunts of Bastion soon.

I know for a fact cocksuckers like them mean it when they promise to come after you.

“But we have an emergency button, right, girl?” I murmur to Dottie. She chitters, but her big eyes don’t look sure about it. “I know; I need to carry more than just a knife. I have to find magic or whatever they think I can do. Otherwise, I’m toast.”

Dottie holds onto my neck tighter and I sigh softly at the comfort it brings. I’m pushing my own boundaries by doing this, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to be some sheltered idiot who can only survive with the bad boy demons watching me. Since my… assault…I’ve been determined to never let my condition rule. It’s no different in Hell than at home.

But this place is dark and goddamn huge—like it’s built for a division one football program above ground. I’m climbing for what seems to be forever when I finally reach the top. I’m winded and I grumble because I might have to go to that stupid gym in the dorm’s basement. That means I’ll see my floor mates even more. I know they’re down there a lot, particularly the spoiled royal and his second banana.

Definitely a con for the gym.

“I have to, though,” I pant a little as I stand still while I catch my breath. “Running is also an option if the twenty-one feet from knife to stab isn’t enough.”

My self-defense instructor would be proud of me for remembering that, but not for staying somewhere I know I’ll need it. He was adamant about not letting shit get out of hand in my homes following the attack, but I’m a stubborn bitch. I don’t like to let bullies win and I don’t like admitting when I need help. It makes my anxiety even worse.

When I feel steady again, I open the heavy door to walk out onto the top section of the weird ass seating. The arena is every bit as gigantic as it appeared, and the field is a little bigger than a standard football field. It’s covered in obstacles—pits, trenches, lava pools, mini bunkers, targets, and weird embedded symbols. It’s like some sort of demon-style American Warrior course that we… duel magically on?

I am in so much fucking trouble.

“What the fuck are you doing here alone?”

The angry voice startles me and I jump about fifty feet in the air, shrieking in a much too girly way. “Back off! I have a knife!”

The shark shifter gives me an annoyed look as he wipes his dripping face off with a towel. “Yeah, well, my teeth are knives, but you don’t see me screaming like a little princess about it. Don’t make me repeat myself, human.”

I hold up a finger, trying to quiet the racing of my pulse and my hammering heart so I can breathe. If I can do that, I can answer him. He taps his foot, looking like he might show me those damned teeth if I don’t hurry. Once I have my shit together, I lick my lips. “First, you assholes keep saying I’m not human. Make up your mind. Second, you’re not my goddamn keeper, Slash. None of you are. I can go where I please.”

His hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose and he sucks in a breath before gritting out, “You agreed with the others that it was dangerous for you to wander about without someone. Did you lie to them? I hate liars.”

He means that.

Pausing as I consider how to say what I need to, I ignore the smug look on his ruggedly handsome face. He’s not my usual type because he’s a fucking monster—literally and figuratively—but I can’t deny the dude is stacked like a brick shithouse. It’s even more obvious in the small running shorts and shredded workout shirt, so combined with the scare, I’m having trouble focusing.

“I didn’t lie. But…,” I rush to continue before he can cut in. “…I can’t feel like a pillow prin…ce.” Shit, I almost blew that one. His frown lets me know he’s not familiar with the term, so I expound. “I don’t want to feel like a protected, precious little weakling that has to be with an escort. I’m already smaller than most of you muscle-bound demon meatheads; if I’m also unable to be independent, the bullying will get so much worse. And I don’t mean from Prince Prickface, either.”

The laugh Slash barks out surprises the hell out of me, and I grin a little as he doubles over. “Prince Prickface. You sure like to take your life in your hands, bantam.”

I frown at him, fighting the urge to put my hands on my hips and demand he explain. That, however, would not be very dude-like and I’ve spent all my bullshit tokens for today. “He pisses me off on purpose. I’ll call him whatever the fuck I feel like. If he pulls his head out of his lower intestine, I might use his name.”

My grumble gets another bark and I feel pretty damn good. Slash is quiet and non-emotive—outside of glowers—most of the time, and I’m making him laugh. Score one for Kit, baby. Dottie squeaks and tilts her head as I look at her with a small smile. I can’t tell if this makes Slash okay, but maybe he’s working towards it?

“Okay. I get not wanting to seem like a wimp, so idiots don’t bother you more. But it’s still not safe until the ceremony. So… if you sit here while I finish my stairs, I’ll walk you to the next place. Deal?”

Given he’s speaking more words at once than ever, I nod, walking over to one of the odd stadium seats. “Deal. I’ve got work to do.”

He looks relieved and turns to the steps again, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t think I missed that you’re avoiding Zavida, by the way.”

Damnit. Busted.

It takes another half-hour for the huge demon to finish what looks like a grueling workout. He rifles through a gym bag, wiping himself down with a dry towel, then cleans up quickly. By the time he walks over to me, he doesn’t stink—no, he smells like the damn ocean breeze and looks irritatingly lickable. Smacking myself internally for noticing, I gather my stuff and get Dottie perched before following him as he lumbers away from the door I entered through to a different one.

“Where are we going?” I ask as I try to hide my fear that he’s going to turn on me and take me somewhere to get my ass kicked.

Slash grunts as he stabs the button to an elevator—how did I miss that—and looks over at me. “I’m taking you down the easy way, but also I thought you might like to see the locker room. You can grab your things and shit.”

Oh, right. My uniform is about to get whipped to death in magical battle ball or whatever.

“Great,” I mutter as we step into the metal cage. “Super excited about that, by the way.”

Giving me a toothy grin, the big guy shrugs. “Sometimes we only find our strength when it’s born in fire.”

I give him a sour look. “Being philosophical will not save my ass when I have to battle people who have magic and the knowledge of how this works. I’ll be about as useless as a dildo in a cookie baking contest.”

That earns me a slow blink, then another shake of his head. I feel he has no idea how to deal with my sarcasm or my attitude. He’s not the first to have that issue and that difficulty is why I didn’t bother with making friends at home.

Kat Camponella is weird, off-putting, and unfriendly was perfectly fine with me.

“I’ll send you the handbook. You like to study, right? That should help.”

Another damn thing to catch up on. I’m never going to get any sleep at this rate. But I know he’s trying, so I nod as the doors to the elevator open. “Thanks. That will work.”

Slash strides out of the carriage with the confidence of a dude who can wreck damn near anyone in his path and I tag along like the little Looney Tunes dog. We come to a huge set of double doors, and I cringe at the stink emanating from them. Yanking one open, the shark demon smirks and waits for me to enter.

“This is the locker room,” he says as he squints at the various guys in states of undress. “I did not think there would be this many people here now.”

My eyes widen and I have to find a place on the floor to stare because there’s an enormous—both in size and shape—amount of dick dangling about. I’m sure my face is heating, which will be a sure sign that something is wrong. I have to get the attention off of me and out of this haven of nut sacks before I’m even more scarred for life.

“Uh, great. Can you point me to… what I need?” I mumble as I quell the panic in my chest.

“Helpless,” he mutters before stomping over to a locker next to his in the corner. He grabs a garment bag out of it, then comes over, shoving it at me. “Here.”

“Get your fuck toy out of here, Slash.”

The sneering voice makes me raise my gaze and I see a lot more of Bastion than I ever wanted to—not that there’s much to see. My eyes flick back to his twisted face, then over to the guy who insisted on bringing me here. He says nothing and I almost facepalm when I realize I just chastised him about people assuming I can’t handle myself.

Way to go, Kat.

“ Get bent, Bastion. That is, if you have enough to bend. I don’t have my magnifying glass with me, so I’m not sure. Sorry, man.” I paste an evil smirk on my face, hoping that’s enough to get the other dudes to look away from me.

Unsurprisingly, my gambit works because the asswad splutters and the other demons howl with laughter. Slash nods at me, and I take that as approval. It might not be, but I’m claiming it, regardless.

“Let’s go, Kit. We have dinner to get to and then a meeting.”

I frown, squinting at the shark, but I don’t ask him about this new meeting here. It’s obvious the caliphate works hard to keep their shit under wraps, and it’s the only thing I can think of that would require a meeting that late. “Gotcha.”

Together we head out of the locker room and I can finally inhale without vomiting. We walk through a few more halls and out another new set of doors without speaking. When we’re finally in the fresh air, I suck in cleansing breaths and my companion chuckles.

“It’s rather rank in there.”

I snort. “It smells like the inside of a kraken’s asshole—I think. I’ve never met one, obviously.”

His lips twitch and he leads me away from the arena toward Canto IV. “It’s not an entirely inaccurate description.”

That makes me grin and I decide to try talking since he’s in a good mood. “Why don’t we go to the other dorms at all?”

“The classes only intermingle in common areas, sports, and at mealtimes. The douchebag in charge believes it eases interpersonal conflict.” He shoots me a look over my shoulder. “He’s full of shit, obviously.”

“No duh,” I reply as I shake my head. Adults are so ridiculously short-sighted with managing young people, even demons, it seems. They totally forget what the hell they’re doing the minute they cross thirty, I swear to fuck.

It helps nothing that people are putting off kids until around then now.

“You’re always thinking, aren’t you?”

I blink, considering his question, before I nod. “Yep. It’s because of my conditions. There’s a big fucking ratatouille-style mess in there because of my past. I’ve got enough letters to make alphabet soup.”

“Mmm,” he says as we walk up the steps to the dorm. “You have much in common with all my brothers in that regard—both the thinking and the issues. We all come from… unfortunate situations in various ways. But here, it’s considered a weakness by the elder demons to do the talking thing humans are addicted to.”

“Therapy?” I ask. “Like no one in Hell gets therapy? Or medication?”

He holds the elevator open and I step inside as I wait for him to respond. “Medicine for injury or illness, but not… head things.”

Well, that explains Jasper fucking Eversore and all his merry men.

“I’m sorry. I know how much it helped me and it feels criminal that you guys are just supposed to deal with it.”

He shrugs as the doors open again, gesturing at my door. “It’s the way here. We’re used to it. Now put your things away. Salem will need your help in the kitchen as he cooks, and we eat in the main room on Fridays. His class is almost over.”

“How will I know what to do?” I ask anxiously.

Slash shrugs and gives me one of his shark-like grins. “That’s not my problem, bantam. Figure it out. I’ve got to shower before dinner.”

That said, he stomps off and I sigh, digging for my key so I can get into my room.

If I’m lucky, Salem left me a damn note or something—but I’m never lucky.