Antoine took a step forward. “Watch your mouth, asshole.” And then he spun around and pinned Iris with a glare. “You were always a bitch, Iris, but I didn’t think you’d stoop this low. I mean seriously, where’d you find this guy? The Bordeaux fucking Prison? I knew you were a slut, but this is a new—”
“Hey, fuckass,” Meph interrupted. He was still smiling, but suddenly, it wasn’t a fun smile anymore. It was menacing, malevolent.
Antoine spun back around. “I wasn’t talking to you, so I suggest you shut—”
Without warning, Meph drew back a fist and punched Antoine square in the face.
He moved so fast his arm was a blur. The sound of flesh colliding cracked through the air, quickly followed by a resoundingthudas Antoine’s body hit the floor.
It happened so fast, Iris didn’t even have a chance to scream. She’d barely leapt out of the way in time to avoid being flattened by the toppling deadweight.
For several moments punctuated only by the sounds of her ragged breathing, she stood there staring with her mouth open. At her feet, Faust had stopped growling as if he was equally stunned.
“Oh my god, Meph,” she choked when she finally found her voice. “You knocked him out.”
She probably should have shouted the words, or at least exclaimed them with some degree of emotion, but she was too shocked to summon the will.
Or maybe she just wasn’t that upset?
“I know. It was awesome.” Meph’s playful grin was back like it had never left. “I wish I could punch people out all the time.”
“He’s fully unconscious,” she restated, staring at the prone man on her floor with blood trickling from his suddenly crooked nose. “Should I... call an ambulance or something?”
“Nah, I can move him no problem.” Meph stepped around Antoine’s unconscious body, crouched behind his head, and then lifted him by the armpits like he weighed nothing. “I’ll just toss him outside, and we’ll be good to go.”
Did Meph think that was what ambulances were for? To dispose of people who were in the way?
Iris sputtered, unable to believe her eyes as he dragged Antoine around—banging his head rather savagely against the wall—threw open the door, and quite literallytossedhim outside.
Iris dragged her hands down her face. “You can’t—You just—”
But Meph had already closed and locked the door again, dusting his hands off for a job well done. “Problem solved.”
Finally, she gathered her wits. “You can’t just knock people out and chuck ’em around like sacks of bloody potatoes, Meph! And you can’t leave an unconscious person outside in this weather. He’ll freeze to death!”
“What’s the big deal?” Meph rolled his eyes as she moved past him and opened the door again. “You’re the one that’ll freeze to death if you go outside in that tiny towel.”
The big deal was that Antoine was lying face down on her doormat like a sot who’d lost his house keys. She leaned outside into the biting cold and glanced around to make sure no neighbors were watching. If anyone saw this and called the cops, she was in deep shit.
“He called you a slut,” Meph said from behind her. “And a bitch. Nobody calls you that but me, and I only do it when I know you like it.”
She turned back around and met his gaze. He was frowning now, and she felt herself soften. Maybe that was why she felt safe with him. Words like “bitch” and “slut” were almost terms of endearment coming from his mouth because she knew he would never use them to hurt her.
Turning back toward Antoine, she stepped outside and crouched beside him. The frozen doormat stung her bare feet. Gripping his shoulder, she shook him a little, nearly fainting with relief when he groaned and rolled onto his side. The last thing they needed was for Meph to have put him in a coma.
“See? He’s fine,” Meph said from behind her.
“Iris...” Antoine mumbled groggily. “You’re such a... bitch.”
She shook her head.Seriously?
Sitting back on her heels, she had a moment of clarity. Or maybe it was the opposite. Maybe Meph’s demonic influence had finally corrupted her. Whatever the case, she suddenly didn’t give a flying fuck what happened to this lousy excuse for a person.
She stood up again. Her stinging feet were already numbing from the cold, but she barely noticed. “Yeah, I’m a real bitch,” she spat. “Which is why, if you ever show up at my place again, I’ll tell Meph to toss your sorry arse off the balcony instead of just watching him kick it.”
She stepped back inside and slammed the door.
“Can I really toss him off the balcony?” Meph looked like Faust before she set his food dish down. His eyes were positively gleaming.
