So, she's mentally ill. Got it. “Ah.” “Ah?” she repeats, aghast. “What does that mean?” “It means you’re fucking insane, little girl, Where are these demons again, or whatever you call them?” I ask, my own tone becoming clipped. It took five seconds to no longer give a fuck about what she's seeing. It doesn't impact me at the end of the day, so I couldn't give less of a shit at this point. If she wants to pretend there's gigantic talking bananas following me around with pitchforks, then I'll indulge her as long as I get my time with the four men waiting for me upstairs. When she brings me into the room, they immediately start screaming. Wriggling about like worms caught on a hook. I can’t tell if Mark is screaming because he thinks I’m going to help him or kill him, but I suppose I’m going to do both. Help him atone for his sins and then kill him for it. “Do they know you?” the doll asks, and I hum in confirmation, taking in their appearances and broken bones. The other three men look at me like I'm the boogeyman. And that’s as Zack, the self-made millionaire. Wait until I tell them who I really am—lI'm sure their faces will look like Casper’s. I only need to learn about two things. Find out where the rituals are being held and how to get into the place, and find out if the Society is after Addie. Whatever else they have to say is no longer a concern. “You sure no one can hear them?” “T do this all the time,” she answers simply. I inspect her from the corner of my eye, looking her up and down. “You kill people often?” She’s a small thing, but the girl can fight. And by the near-constant murderous gleam in her eye, it truly doesn’t surprise me. She shrugs. “Only the demons.” I can’t help the small grin. “Do you call yourself the demon-slayer too?” She snarls and stomps her foot like the child she’s dressed up to be. “You’re not funny!” I disagree. But instead of arguing, I turn my attention back to the matter at hand. Just as expected, the second I rip the tape from his mouth, he starts pleading for his life. And the minute I tell Mark who I really am, his reddened face instantly drains of all blood until his skin is an ashen, grey pallor. The other three men’s faces follow suit, looking at me as if I’m the grim reaper. I smile. I am the fucking grim reaper.