Page 46 of Monsters' Touch
Shit. He was right. The Draconian ward was the only ward strong enough to hold off any amount of demons trying to screw with us. The only catch was it was a real bitch to cast.
It required intense focus for the duration of the spell.
“If we’re using all our energy for that ward, we won’t have anything left when it’s time to reap,” I say.
Rhygel starts his paces, working out whatever stroke of brilliance he’s about to lay out.
“We do it in shifts. One of us is reaping, one is resting for their reap and the two remaining share the burden of keeping the Draco ward in place. Then, when the first comes back from the reap, the one who was resting isn’t drained, the one who took the brunt of the ward can rest for his turn, and the one who came back can support—Actually, that doesn’t work out.”
“Right. The one who’s come back should be the one who rests,” Barbas says. “They’ll be drained from doing the reaping with nothing left to support the ward.”
“Look, none of this matters if we can’t collect enough souls,” Typhon says.
Tempers flare and ideas get thrown out here and there and eventually we agree on a plan. It takes the rest of the night and into the next morning, but we finally decide how to juggle all the responsibilities.
And by then we’re all so exhausted from sparing with each other, both with words and fists that we decide it’s best that everyone rests for a few hours and to start fresh in the afternoon.
Except there was still one thing we just couldn’t agree on.
Whether or not to tell Lily exactly how bad things got.
Chapter17
Lily
Iactually had to bandage my forearm this time.
I hadn’t cut that deep since high school. And like always, I felt better. I wasn’t spiraling out of control, worried that I’d said something wrong or done something I should have.
Because why else would Barbas not come back?
It was closing in on two days. And based on how dire he kept saying his situation was, I couldn’t think of a reason why he’d stay away so long.
Until I did think of one. He was hurt, and that sent me over the edge.
Had me digging the blades out of my cheap disposable razor.
Had me wondering if I had, in fact, imagined all of it.
It wasn’t until after the rush of endorphins from a few more hash marks that I figured the best way to see if I imagined it was to visit my mom. So, I took myself and my bandaged arm to the hospital, where she looked as young as ever.
We spoke about what she and Dad wanted to do now that she had a clean bill of health and the rest of her retirement to look forward to. And then I left, hoping, praying to a god I don’t actually believe in, that Barbas would come with an explanation that would make everything make sense.
But that was hours ago.
And now, I’m squinting at but not seeing the job postings on every career website there is, feeling incredibly stupid for thinking I didn’t need to do this.
That I wouldn’t need to work a human job.
Not when I had souls to help the demons collect.
Because that had been more engaging, more fulfilling, more exciting, than anything I’d ever done before.
Even sex with Tad wasn’t as thrilling as soul reaping.
And what the hell does that say about me?
I don’t have the slightest idea, but every job listing for actuarial science, what my degree is actually in, makes me want to rip my hair out.