![]() ![]() The demon wasn’t tallying up her bra size or even leering at her. The look wasn’t a once-over, or at least not the kind Dee was used to. “How do you know I’m working?” It finally looked at her. “Kind of going for the low-hanging fruit, aren’t you?” The demon’s mouth twitched. The demon didn’t look at her it kept knitting, its fingers deftly sliding a stitch from one needle to the other. In a silky voice, because of course that’s the only kind of voice a demon would have. Red yarn trailed around its fingers as it knit, and the sight made Dee feel brave. Demons weren’t supposed to be dangerous, or only as dangerous as your average used car salesman. It was the kind of afternoon one could only find in Oregon -grass still doused with last night’s rain, lit up by what sunlight managed to escape the cloud cover. If she returned indoors, she would have to eat her lunch with the other high school volunteers, and that thought made her stomach shrivel up. The smokers’ area was where she always took her lunch break she didn’t smoke, but it made for a good place to eat-at least, when it wasn’t already occupied. ![]() Ademon was knitting outside the hospital. ![]()
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