Daimon by Jennifer Armentrout Page A

rest stop full of truckers.
    None of them whistled or propositioned me when they saw me.
    This, in a way, totally ruined my whole image of them.
    Across from the rest stop turnoff were more factories. They looked like something straight out of a haunted house reality TV show—broken or boarded up windows, weeds overflowing the cracked pavement, and vines trailing up along the walls. Before Matt had decided I was a giant freak, we’d gone to one of those carnival haunted houses. Come to think of it, I should have known he’d be a wuss. He’d screamed like a girl when the guy had come out at the end and chased us with a chainsaw.
    Smiling to myself, I followed a narrow path around the rest stop and tossed my empty bottle and bag into a trash bin. The sky was full of heavy clouds and the loud purr of the tractor’s engines was comforting in an odd way. In four hours I’d be in Nashville. Four more hours and I’d find—
    The sound of breaking glass startled me. My heart leapt in my throat.
    I whirled around, expecting to be faced with a horde of daimons. Instead of found two young guys. One had thrown a rock through the window of a maintenance building.
    What rebels, I thought.
    I moved my hand away from where I had the spade shoved into the back of my pants, studying them. They weren’t much older—or cleaner—than me. One was wearing a red beanie… in May. I wondered if there was some kind of weather situation I was unaware of. My gaze drifted to his partner, whose eyes kept bouncing from his friend to me.
    And that made me nervous.
    Beanie boy smiled. The off-white shirt he wore clung to his scrawny frame. He didn’t look like he was getting three square meals a day.
    Neither did his friend. “How ya doin’?”
    I bit my lip. “Good. You?”
    His friend gave a sharp, high-pitched laugh. “We’re doing okay.”
    Knots began to form in my stomach. Taking a deep breath, I started to edge around them. “Well… I’ve got a bus to catch.”
    Giggles shot a quick look at Beanie Boy, and damn, Beanie Boy could book it. Within a second, he was standing in front of me and had a knife pointed right at my throat.
    “We saw ya with the money back at those machines,” said Beanie Boy, “and we want it.”
    I almost couldn’t believe it. On top of everything, I was being robbed.
    It was official. The gods hated me.
    And I hated them.

CHAPTER 10
    IN STUNNED DISBELIEF, I LIFTED MY HANDS ABOVE MY
    head and exhaled slowly.
    The one without the knife gaped at his partner. “Man, what are you doing? Why’d you pull a knife? She’s just a girl. She’s not going to fight us.”
    “Shut up. I’m running this show.” Beanie Boy grabbed my arm as he leered in my face, pressing the tip of the knife under my chin.
    “This wasn’t part of the plan!” argued the guy who didn’t seem to want to stab me. I eyed him hopefully, but he was staring at his partner, his hands opening and closing at his sides.
    Great, I thought, I’m being robbed by unorganized criminals.
    Someone’s definitely getting stabbed and it’s probably going to be me.
    Instead of fear, I felt a hot stab of annoyance. I so did not have the time for this crap. I had a bus to catch, and hopefully, a life to reclaim.
    “We saw ya getting the food.” He inched the tip of the knife down my throat. “We know ya have money. A whole wad of cash, right, John?
    Must be a lot of hooking to get that kinda money.”
    I wanted to kick myself in the face. I should’ve been more careful. I couldn’t pull out a wad of cash and expect not to be robbed. Surviving a daimon attack only to have my throat slashed for a few hundred dollars?
    Dammit, people sucked.
    “Did ya hear me?”

    I narrowed my eyes, figuring I was about five seconds from going ballistic. “Yeah, I heard you.”
    His fingers dug in my skin. “Then give us the damn money!”
    “You’re going to have to get it yourself.” My gaze went to his friend.
    “And I dare you to try it.”
    Beanie