Page 85 of Malice

“How about Mexican?” I say, already deciding. “Burritos, tacos for Delphi, chips and guac… street corn.”

We order way too much food, and it’s set to arrive in about forty-five minutes. Not wanting to sit still, I change into workout clothes and go downstairs to the gym. I run through a brutal calisthenics circuit, pushing myself harder than I need to—until Delphi gets here.

“Hey,” I say, coming upstairs and meeting her in the foyer.

Mabel let her in and is currently holding several porcelain-faced dolls under her arm. Delphi is doing a terrible job pretending that’s normal.

“You are in such good shape,” Delphi tells me, looking me up and down. “It’s not fair.”

I raise an eyebrow. “How often do you work out?”

“Like… never,” she admits, laughing.

“Yeah,” I say. “That’ll do it.”

“Most of us wolves are naturally athletic,” she goes on, kicking off her shoes. “But I prefer sitting on the couch with a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch after a long shift instead of going to the gym.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” I tell her. “I use working out as a coping mechanism. So while it might look good on paper, there’s a lot going on under the surface.”

Her smile fades just slightly.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, glancing between me and Mabel.

We head into the family room, and Delphi sits down, watching me more closely now.

“After everything that happened at the warehouse… you just kind of disappeared,” she says. “You went quiet.”

“I’ve just been… dealing with things,” I reply.

“That doesn’t sound like you,” she says gently. “What actually happened?”

I hesitate. I could brush it off. I could lie. But I’m so tired of holding everything in and I’ve wanted a friend like this for so long.

“I didn’t really understand it all before,” I say slowly. “But we figured it out. Last night, actually. Some things had to be really, well, assured because it was hard to believe.”

She leans forward. “Okay…”

“The Order,” I continue, “has spent the last fifty years trying to free a demon.”

Her brows pull together. “A demon?”

“Yeah. Not just any demon either. One that has been too powerful for anyone to kill.”

Delphi lets out a quiet breath. “That sounds bad.”

“It is,” I say. “They want to control it. Use it.”

“And… what does that have to do with you?”

I swallow. “I wish nothing, but, uh, kind of everything.”

She goes still.

“My family, the Blackwoods, they were hunters. Witches. They’re the ones who trapped it in the first place. Created some kind of supernatural prison to hold it.”

“That’s… kind of badass,” she says carefully.

“It is,” I agree. “Except now the Order figured out that the only way to break into that prison—really control what’s inside—is with Blackwood blood.”