Legacy of the Demon by Diana Rowland Read Free Book Online

luminescent red slime glistened on his face and oozed from his pores, plastering his t-shirt to his chest. “Oh fuck,” I breathed. “I mean . . . um, just relax, Cory. Pellini’s on his way, and we’ll get you straightened out.” As I spoke, the smell shifted to a weird hybrid of spice and burned hair.
Arcane disease?
If there was such a thing, it could possibly be contagious. I needed to quaran—
    Cory grabbed my wrist. I instinctively recoiled, but he held fast. His eyes went wide. “Kara . . . I can’t . . . what’s happening to . . .”
    â€œCory, focus!” I wrenched free then retreated a step for good measure. “Do you have any gloves?”
    His breath wheezed. “Bathroom.”
    â€œHang tight!” I ran for the bathroom. I wanted gloves between me and that ooze, but even more than that, I needed to be
away
. Angry fingermarks were the only sign that he’d grabbed me, but I cranked on the hot water and scrubbed the hell out of my wrist anyway. The towel lay crumpled over puke, so I dried my hands as much as possible on my shirt. “Just one more minute, Cory,” I called out.
    I clawed an emergency kit out from under the sink and yanked on a pair of nitrile gloves. Or rather, one and a half gloves. My damp left hand got stuck part way in, giving me more of a nitrile mitten effect. I doubted that the gloves would be much protection against arcane slime, but it felt better than doing nothing. I shoved a pair in my pocket for Pellini, dug for a filter mask with no luck, then dashed to the bedroom. “Sorry. Just a precau—”
    Cory stared blankly, head lolling to the side. Red covered every inch of him, giving the illusion he’d been flayed—except that the slime undulated like a living thing. I couldn’t even tell whether or not he was breathing.
    â€œCory!” No response. I felt for a pulse, relieved to find it strong and steady. But what the hell was happening with him?
    His body jerked, and he gasped a rattling breath. “Kara, nine one one . . . Kara . . . don’t let me . . .” Gurgling drowned his words as slime filled his mouth.
    Crisis training kicked in.
Get him on his side. Clear his airway. Call the paramedics.
    â€œStay with me, Cory,” I ordered. “You’re going to be okay.”I gripped his shoulder and hip to roll him, and the slime writhed, hot and viscous beneath my gloves. An electric vibration shot up my arms, distracting me long enough for the mucus to surge, congeal, and lock itself around my hands.
    â€œShit!” I tried to yank free, but I might as well have been trapped in cement for all the good it did me. My right hand wouldn’t budge from his shoulder at all, however the one on his hip gave a little, thanks to being only partially in the glove.
    Without warning, Cory swung his fist toward my head. I jerked back enough for the blow to glance off my temple. “Stop fighting! I’m trying to help you.” Before I could reposition, his other fist shot out and caught me square in the ribs.
    I
oofed
out a breath and wrenched my hand out of the glove, barely in time to twist away from another head shot and catch his wrist. Slime-gel still sealed my other hand to his shoulder, but I managed to wrestle his arm above his head and pin it to the bed. At least whatever the fuck was screwing with him hadn’t made him super strong.
    But now what? With one hand trapped and the other holding his arm down, I was in the worst game of Superglue Twister ever.
    Eyes wide, Cory thrashed wildly and let out an inhuman roar. Impossible, considering his mouth and nose were completely filled with yuck, but though the sound remained physically inaudible, it bombarded my brain from the inside out like a telepathic grenade.
    Breathing hard, I mentally traced the
pygah
sigil for focus and managed to clear my mind.