34 // MOUSE

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Author's Note: Hello dear Hedonists, and thank you for checking out the new update

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Author's Note: Hello dear Hedonists, and thank you for checking out the new update. 

At this point, it's really important, if you have not read the author's note that I posted right at the beginning of Hedoschism, that you please do read it. I know many readers who skip over these things - because, yawn, yes I know - but that particular author's note is there for a genuine reason. This chapter does contain content that readers may find particularly difficult and if you are unsure of some of the themes of Hedoschism, now would be the time to go back and read the original note to ensure that you know if you wish to read on. 

I thank you all for your support, as always xxx

***

His Gospel.

Ethan had a fucking Gospel written about him.

The Gospel of Helel.

I couldn't process it. How was I meant to process something like this?

I knew how I wanted to deal with it, but I couldn't. Being with Ethan and without any access to my supply, everything he had told me, everything I had seen and experienced, had filled me so completely that I had almost forgotten there was this big part of me that always stayed true to form whenever things got too tough to handle. I was lying, of course, because half the time, shit didn't even have to be that tough for me to reach for the coke. I got wasted because I could. I got wasted because it was easy. I got wasted because it was way better than everything else my pathetic life had to offer. I got wasted because I was Casey Brogan, champion ghost-carrier, champion party girl, champion death-stalker.

Since New Year's Eve, my rollercoaster life had lost its brakes and I'd been increasing speed by the day, hurtling along the tracks, around bends, facing the highs and the lows with a clear head and a clarity of vision I hadn't even known I possessed until then. Yeah, there'd definitely been times when it would have been easy to fuck it all away with drugs – that's why I'd taken the smack from Oscar's office – but I'd come to realise that everything had begun to take a weird and surprising turn. Instead of getting high on powder and pills, I'd been getting high on Ethan. High on being with him. High on this crazy, messed-up adventure. In fact, I'd been so high, I hadn't even noticed when I'd just started accepting everything.

Davey's dead. Oscar Turnbull isn't human. Angels exist. You're a witch. Oh, and that demon you're now sleeping with has a Gospel written about him, because he's not just the son of Lucifer; he's the most powerful creature alive and the future of the world rests in his reluctant hands.

Blake was still talking, holding the book aloft again as he addressed his demon army, but I couldn't focus on his words. I was floating under the surface, my flight instinct in full-force, but with nowhere to go and no means to get there, I could do nothing but stare numbly at Ethan, who was staring straight back at me. He could have flattened the whole room with that stare and I was lost in it, as if we were the only two people here.

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