"It's high time we start planning." Said María José.
I blinked at the ceiling. "Planning?"
She sat up and pulled the sheet around her in a warrior-queen style, like the softness of her bare skin didn't undo me. "Axel, we can't keep pretending this will go away. Ignacio isn't just some metaphorical trauma we keep dragging around. He's real. And worse, he's watching. Probably laughing at us."
I didn't know which made it harder to hear this; the fact that I knew damn well how right she was or that I had not the slightest clue how to take down a demon.
"Well," I muttered, rubbing my temples, "he's got a terrible sense of humor."
María ignored my sarcasm and pinned me with that expression; the one that said she was two seconds away from listing out an entire PowerPoint presentation in her head.
"So how do we take a demon down?"
Right. Just that.
