witches who think they’re going to do this without dying terrible deaths,” I said. The silence gave me enough of an edge to keep going. “You think the Barista will let you live?” “Our lives don’t matter. We simply exist to bring Lucifer back.” “Did he ask you to do this?” I asked, looking at the one who spoke. “Did he say ‘hey random witches— please abduct the human who’s living out their wildest sex dreams and kill him so I can come back?’” “I’m going to rip out your tongue, I think,” one of them snapped. “It’s not like I’m here to make friends with you,” I muttered, wincing as more pain
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