Chapter 68

Kris Starr, sitting at the kitchen table with a demon and a half-demon, being handed chicken soup for lunch, wondered briefly what the punchline had to be. A rock star, a battered soul, and a soup-bowl. That half-visible red glitter on his forearm, the peek-a-boo mark he was trying not to think about.

But Justin sat beside him on the bench, close enough to touch. Thin and brave and unwavering: guarding him from harm.

“Someone does know,” Justin said finally, as if this were a normal conversation, a visiting aunt and a cloudy day and a confession. “Besides Kris, I mean. I told David. Which is what you felt. Me being hurt.”

Mara set down her last spoonful of soup and sighed. She also licked her lips, like a cat, enjoying poultry.

“I’m sorry, okay,” Justin said. “I thought—he said he loved me and I thought I could—it was stupid. I know.”