Dangerous Diabolical: Book 1 (Iridescent) ✔️

4.2

Everything was aching, the burns on my skin were sore and as I surveyed what was left of my living room, moving house was beginning to become an attractive idea. Despite that, I was simply too tired to even contemplate that course of action. A sigh whooshed out as I realised I couldn't even collapse onto the couch that was lodged out in a garden bush.

Gravel crunched underfoot en route to the bathroom, and for once I turned the heating on instead of warming the water myself. I had to perch on the edge of the tub as it filled up, not trusting my ability to stand back up if I sat anywhere else. As soon as the water was ankle height, I kicked off my shoes, poked a toe in to see if the temperature was acceptable and slumped in, ankles crossed, hugging my knees. The water immediately saturated a reddish brown, full of blood and dirt. Specs of grass floated amongst the mud spots.

As the water reached my arm I whimpered, hugging my knees closer. With the dried blood washed away the extent of damage was visible. The blisters were already starting to reveal bruising under angry skin, and even more worryingly was the webbing of skin around the gem.

With my arm looking clearer I could see where each of the individual links had burnt their way in. Gold was my favourite thing of all time, but this was a little too close to comfort. The gem stared mockingly. Would it remain if I entered my true form?

From the other room, my morning alarm began to trill and I groaned. My day off was officially over, I'd had no sleep, my magic was running half empty and if I thought it couldn't get any worse, I was wrong. Placing the remaining necklace over my head I ran a thumb absently over the surface.

On the way to work, I purchased a bandage to wrap around my arm from the local pharmacy, despite the staff insisting on a hospital visit, my assurances that it was merely a flesh wound seemed to fall on deaf ears. Finally managing to console the staff by taking a leaflet on 'domestic violence' they allowed me to leave the premises.

My boss David pounced on me when I finally managed to find a way to drag myself into the shop. I was one gust of wind away from crawling on my hands and knees.

Beet-red he yelled "Andy!", rushing over, his Dybbuk was eerily slow floating after him. Silently its hollow sockets focused on me, leaving a chill jarring my spine.

David continued, "Paul's called in ill, I need you to take security. No talking to customers involved, just make sure no one takes anything they haven't paid for."

"Urrr..."

He paused studying my face. With a disdained curled lip he asked "Andy, did you get into a fight? You look terrible."

Quickly I reassured him, "No one died," pivoting the subject to the former; "Security?" There was always security at the club. They got to drag out the drunk handsy guests. That wouldn't be too bad, especially if they lost a finger or two. I saluted him. "Yes sir!" His eyes followed my bandaged arms.

"Ohmygosh what happened Andy?" A high-pitched voice squealed. It was the new teenage girl that had trailed me the other day. Her bright blue eyes were ringed in eyeliner, only making them look wider as she blatantly stared at my injuries.

I grunted. "DIY accident, honestly I'm fine." If I worked security she'd not be following me around. "Happy to secure the premises," I told David.

He sighed, rubbing his nose bridge lethargically. "Andy, you're an awful employee, you're rude, you don't listen and you're about at helpful as a soggy doormat."

Here I was trying to be a model employee, yet it was hard not to grin at the thought of being absolutely useless. I tried my best after all. He took a deep breath.

"Just watch the security desk, don't make eye contact with the customers."

Before I could ask how I was meant to both watch and not make eye contact, a tannoy announcement summoned him away.