Chapter 9
The creases around Prescott’s eyes deepen further, and the grooves around his mouth appear more pronounced. It hits me then. Even in the dim light, I can see strands of gray infiltrating his hair.
He’s literally aging in front of me.
The bowl is resting on the bench, and he has both palms flat against its lid.
“It’s hurting you.” I reach for the bowl, but Prescott yanks it away.
“It’s not that bad.”
It is that bad. If we can’t find Hillside Diamonds and the gateway, this thing will drain too much of Prescott. I’m not even sure he’ll be able to hold the demon inside him without being devoured before help can arrive. It’s a long drive from northern Minnesota and a long flight from Paris.
And if this thing is twisting his mind?
“Let me help.” I keep my voice low and gentle.
