A Demon's Drink {Book Three-Kat}

Chapter 20

--- Kat’s POV---

I was currently outside the city limits, sitting in the middle of empty space of grass. I normally would call it a field, but it was all of five square feet of grass; definitely not a field. The sun was high in the sky, so it was around one or two, and a nice breeze would pass my way occasionally. Today was sunny and it just seemed like an easy kind of day. I had just lain down when a figure decided to block my sun.

“Whoever you are, please move.” I smiled up at the figure. They moved over and I closed my eyes, hearing their heartbeat quicken the slightest bit before settling back down again. “Whoever you are, you’re either surprised, happy, or scared to see me.” I mused, enjoying the sun on my face.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Tim Drake’s voice registered as he sat down in the grass next to me. I kept my eyes shut and a small smirk found its way onto my lips.

“Thank you Tim.” I snorted. “Who told you that?”

“Bruce did.” He was hesitant to answer, but I knew the answer before he gave it.

“Of course he did. Richard came to talk to me the other day. Is it your turn now or something?” I hadn’t meant to sound so angry and mean, but I couldn’t help it when Bruce was sending the birds to come talk to me.

“I just saw you sitting up here and decided to see who was loitering on Wayne property.”

“Ah.” I frowned. “I didn’t realize I was on his land. I’ll be on my way soon enough, out of y’all’s hair once more.” Finally opening my eyes, I could see his dark hair had been cut short recently. His eyes stared off into space, thoughts swirling and fighting with one another behind those blue beauties.

“Done staring at me Miss Wayne?” A smirk spread across his face as his eyes met mine. There was something about his sarcasm that made me feel like a relatively normal person; for once.

“Boudreaux. Not Wayne.” I stood up and dusting off my shorts, the wind blowing my hair into my face. “Bruce is done with me.” My voice cracked, but I turned and walked to my motorcycle before Tim could do anything.

---

 It was now about two thirty and my book sack weighed another fifteen pounds. I maneuvered my way through traffic until I came to one of the more familiar alleyways of the city. Hiding my bike behind the dumpster was a lot easier now than it had been before; Ra’s. I crouched down and removed the manhole cover before dropping into it.

It was a lot darker down here than I had remembered, but my eyes adjusted all too quickly and my ears picked up rats five tunnels over. Someone had been following me for a while, but I wasn’t too worried about him or her. I mean, I lived down here with Waylon and Grundy of all people.

A few more turns and jumps later, I was walking down the tunnel that would lead me to the big open room Solomon Grundy used to occupy. I grabbed my cane from my bag and began to twirl it, liking the whooshing sound it made in the air.

“Guess who’s home?” I called before entering the space. It was empty. Completely, one hundred percent, empty. “Grundy?” My voice rose the slightest bit, hoping he was just hiding in one of the shadowy corners. No response came, but the sound of the stranger’s footsteps quickened. “Solomon Grundy, born on a Monday,” I started to sing as I ran out of the room.

The footsteps chased me.

“Christened on Tuesday,” my voice shook the slightest bit as my mind began to imagine who was following me.

Their heart beat fluttered in excitement.

“Married on Wednesday!” I was now yelling, hoping he’d appear.