Read Online Demon's Fury: Part 1 of the Final Asylum Tales (The Asylum Tales series) by Jocelynn Drake - Free Book Online
Authors: Jocelynn Drake
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scary.
Boy, was I about to prove Serah wrong.
Chapter 5
P ink Floyd was trickling out of the speakers at Asylum when we arrived, causing my stomach to clench with guilt and worry. “Wish You Were Here” was usually saved for when the troll was troubled. The album A Collection of Great Dance Songs had been played a lot in that first month after I’d been drawn back into the Towers. I’d never gotten around to telling Bronx what had happened, but then I hadn’t been my usual cheerful self during that time either, so he knew things hadn’t gone well.
The troll looked up as we came in the front door and gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment before reaching under the counter to turn down the music. “TAPSS got ahold of you,” he said, though I think it was meant to be a question.
“Yeah.” I shrugged out of my heavy coat and tossed it onto the wooden bench that ran along the back wall. “I’m sorry about Kyle.”
He grunted again, though this one sounded a little more thoughtful. “I hadn’t talked to Kyle in a couple years, but . . . to go like this. I was just starting to think that the Towers were the only thing that we needed to worry about.” He turned his piercing gold eyes on the woman standing in the middle of the lobby, looking undecided as to whether she wanted to be there.
“Bronx, this is Serah Moynahan, an investigator with TAPSS.”
As he rose to his feet, the troll’s relaxed demeanor disappeared like a wisp of smoke in the wind. I could see the muscles in his hard jaw tighten as if he were grinding his teeth. He didn’t offer her his hand, which was unlike Bronx since the troll’s manners usually put Emily Post to fucking shame, but Serah was TAPSS and no tattoo artist liked the regulatory agency.
“I’m sorry about Kyle,” Serah said as she shrugged out of her coat. She didn’t seem particularly put off by his cold demeanor, though she was keeping a good distance between them. At over six feet, Bronx was an intimidating figure of muscle and menace. It also didn’t help that Trixie had drawn dancing skeletons along Bronx’s bare arms using greasepaint. Since a troll’s skin was too thick for tattooing, Bronx had Trixie draw different images on his arms every night so that it appeared that he had some tattoos.
“Are you almost done for the night?” I asked, breaking the awkward silence that had settled in the room.
Bronx reluctantly tore his eyes off Serah to look at me, his expression softening. “No more appointments and I’ve only got another hour of my shift. Sunrise is in three hours.”
“No shit?” I twisted, looking out the front window as if I could use the moon to judge how late it was. But then, the moon was hidden from where I stood and I couldn’t use it to tell time even if I could see it. No matter. Between the trip out to Kyle’s shop, the investigation, and the drive back, the night had wasted away, when I had hoped to spend it in a more enjoyable manner. Or at the very least, a productive manner in terms of my relationship.
I shook my head in disgust. Life had a way of getting in the way of my plans. “On your way home, would you check on Trixie at my apartment?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“She was with me at Kyle’s shop. It wasn’t pretty.”
“She took it bad?”
“Yeah, and that wasn’t the first bad news of the night,” I muttered as the look on Trixie’s face when I told her I was once again an agent of the Ivory Towers flashed through my brain. I’d never forget that look for as long as I lived. The horror, the fear, the disgust, and disappointment threatened to drown out rational thought. Despite knowing why she couldn’t, I wanted her to understand my choices, needed her to understand.
“You finally talked . . .” Bronx’s deep voice drifted off meaningfully.
“Yeah.” My own voice had become rough with emotion. I wanted to fucking throw something as frustration welled within me, but a temper tantrum wouldn’t fix
Boy, was I about to prove Serah wrong.
Chapter 5
P ink Floyd was trickling out of the speakers at Asylum when we arrived, causing my stomach to clench with guilt and worry. “Wish You Were Here” was usually saved for when the troll was troubled. The album A Collection of Great Dance Songs had been played a lot in that first month after I’d been drawn back into the Towers. I’d never gotten around to telling Bronx what had happened, but then I hadn’t been my usual cheerful self during that time either, so he knew things hadn’t gone well.
The troll looked up as we came in the front door and gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment before reaching under the counter to turn down the music. “TAPSS got ahold of you,” he said, though I think it was meant to be a question.
“Yeah.” I shrugged out of my heavy coat and tossed it onto the wooden bench that ran along the back wall. “I’m sorry about Kyle.”
He grunted again, though this one sounded a little more thoughtful. “I hadn’t talked to Kyle in a couple years, but . . . to go like this. I was just starting to think that the Towers were the only thing that we needed to worry about.” He turned his piercing gold eyes on the woman standing in the middle of the lobby, looking undecided as to whether she wanted to be there.
“Bronx, this is Serah Moynahan, an investigator with TAPSS.”
As he rose to his feet, the troll’s relaxed demeanor disappeared like a wisp of smoke in the wind. I could see the muscles in his hard jaw tighten as if he were grinding his teeth. He didn’t offer her his hand, which was unlike Bronx since the troll’s manners usually put Emily Post to fucking shame, but Serah was TAPSS and no tattoo artist liked the regulatory agency.
“I’m sorry about Kyle,” Serah said as she shrugged out of her coat. She didn’t seem particularly put off by his cold demeanor, though she was keeping a good distance between them. At over six feet, Bronx was an intimidating figure of muscle and menace. It also didn’t help that Trixie had drawn dancing skeletons along Bronx’s bare arms using greasepaint. Since a troll’s skin was too thick for tattooing, Bronx had Trixie draw different images on his arms every night so that it appeared that he had some tattoos.
“Are you almost done for the night?” I asked, breaking the awkward silence that had settled in the room.
Bronx reluctantly tore his eyes off Serah to look at me, his expression softening. “No more appointments and I’ve only got another hour of my shift. Sunrise is in three hours.”
“No shit?” I twisted, looking out the front window as if I could use the moon to judge how late it was. But then, the moon was hidden from where I stood and I couldn’t use it to tell time even if I could see it. No matter. Between the trip out to Kyle’s shop, the investigation, and the drive back, the night had wasted away, when I had hoped to spend it in a more enjoyable manner. Or at the very least, a productive manner in terms of my relationship.
I shook my head in disgust. Life had a way of getting in the way of my plans. “On your way home, would you check on Trixie at my apartment?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“She was with me at Kyle’s shop. It wasn’t pretty.”
“She took it bad?”
“Yeah, and that wasn’t the first bad news of the night,” I muttered as the look on Trixie’s face when I told her I was once again an agent of the Ivory Towers flashed through my brain. I’d never forget that look for as long as I lived. The horror, the fear, the disgust, and disappointment threatened to drown out rational thought. Despite knowing why she couldn’t, I wanted her to understand my choices, needed her to understand.
“You finally talked . . .” Bronx’s deep voice drifted off meaningfully.
“Yeah.” My own voice had become rough with emotion. I wanted to fucking throw something as frustration welled within me, but a temper tantrum wouldn’t fix
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