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“Wait,” I said, as the runes on his body began to pulse a brighter blue. I clenched my fists, ready to step into the Dark Room in case he was preparing to attack. “Who are you?” Sam laughed again. “Your best friend, Dustin Graves.” His eyes shone electric blue. “Or your worst enemy.” And for the third time since I met him, the thing that called itself Sam vanished.
I could worry about treating my body like a temple in my forties. For now I’m content to treat it like a public toilet.
Do you know what a jail purse is? No? Welp. Now you do. Congratulations.
What do you want from me? I’m an imp. It’s in our nature to be buttholes.”
