14
A yellow and black monarch butterfly glided past, briefly alighting on a crimson flowering plant, a splash of color against the burned-out lawn.
I pressed my hand against my stomach, focusing on my even inhales and exhales and not the b****y handprint on my clothes. One step for every breath, Leo leaving a trail of black oily footprints beside my white ashy ones.
Closer and closer to that abomination we drew, the ground seeming to rise and fall beneath my shaky legs.
Various malformed demon bodies, still twitching, still alive, splayed out from the heart like a shower of flower petals.
We stepped over them. I forced myself to look at the headless male bodies. There was brown skin, white skin, varying heights. Two had hamsa rings. The others didn’t.
Those were the mercenaries and I
