Bad Influence (Seven Deadly Sins #2) ✅ Completed

Chapter Nine: Pain Takes Her Pound of Flesh

Pain Takes Her Pound of Flesh

I watched Dante punch a hole in the fabric of reality right there in the middle of the Chouteau Garden. It was at this point I suddenly realized that crazy no longer adequately described my life. When I had a free moment I was going directly to Google to search for a better word to use –unless of course the myriad of things trying to kill me got to me first.  

Dante waved his hand to widen the hole leading right onto the main floor of the Emporium. He glanced behind one shoulder as he spoke in my direction, “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help me get these statues back to the shop?”

I rolled my eyes. If he could make a damn door out of thin air, then surely Dante could genie-blink a pair of apparently heavy stone statues right where they needed to go.

“What do you think this is, I Dream of Jeanie?” he asked incredulous.

“Obviously not,” I huffed, hustling over to the other side of the first statue – the yelling figure of Pete Sutter. That particular show was way before my time but I’d discovered the box set in my mother’s DVD collection and had watched all of them over a weekend she hadn’t come home. That Major Nelson was a total prude, but considering he was trying to keep some sanity in his outrageous life, I had suddenly developed a newfound respect for him.

Sure, Dante was no genie-in-a-pink-bikini, but surely he could've worked something out, right?

“Why do you need my help anyway? Can’t you just poof them over there or something?” I asked, placing my hands approximately where Dante’s were on the other side of Pete.

Dante glared at me across Pete's stone form. “I can’t risk exposing our position to anyone who might be looking for us anymore than I already have. This doorway is bad enough,” he grumbled, irritated that neither one of the statues even had a remote chance of fitting in his truck.  

“So using your magic is kind of like a Dante GPS or something?”

“It’s not magic,” he replied testily.

“Well, it’s certainly not a skill-set common to the general masses. What the heck would you call it then?” I inquired in my most patient tone.

Dante didn’t say anything but I could tell he was trying really hard to channel some calm as he got a better grip on Pete and started to tilt him backwards. I knew this because the vein in his forehead looked ready to explode again. I decided to be the better person and keep my mouth shut as we half pushed, half lugged Pete through the doorway and into the Emporium. It was hard going since we were trying not to damage him too much in the process. We managed to get him from the garden into the shop in about ten minutes. I only ended up dropping my end once the whole way.

Caroline was next, and thankfully she was a little easier to move. She was crouched down and a little more awkward, but she weighed a heck of a lot less than Pete so we managed to get her over in just under five minutes. We made a pretty decent team, though maybe that had more to do with the fact that neither one of us could waste time trading snarky commentary while we were moving the troubled teens.  

When we were done putting them in a relatively safe place inside the shop, Dante turned to me and spoke, “Stay here with them. I have to close the doorway then drive my truck back. I’ll see you back here in a few minutes. Don’t do anything,” he warned, his eyes going dark as he looked from me to the statues and back.

I rolled my eyes. “C’mon, what do you expect me to do to them? They’re not walnuts. It’s not like I’m gonna crack them open or anything.” Sometimes I wondered what on earth went on in Dante's brain.