“Okay, just to clarify,” I said thinly, “Did you say ‘we’ because you were quoting some dumb song or because you and Azraal are working together?”
She shook her head vigorously, frowning like a child who’d just been ordered to eat her vegetables. “Ew, no, I’m not working with that guy,” she insisted.
“Good to know,” I said, wondering if I could take her at her word. “So how psychic are you, exactly?”
“Very,” she replied proudly.
The levels of my stress and my patience were diverging rapidly and dangerously. “Could you maybe elaborate on that?” I suggested.
“I know everything that happens down here,” she said. “Everything. Everything to me. When I close my eyes, it’s you I see.”
“Right,” I said. “So you know everything that I just did, but you can’t see the future?”
“Exactly,” she said happily, her almost-cute-but-repulsive features twisting into a grin. “That’s why I know now that you used the wrong blood but I didn’t know you were going to make that mistake last time we talked.” She flopped down on her couch and casually continued, “You didn’t use the blood of a murderer like I told you to.”
“Yes I did,” I grated.
“No you didn’t,” she insisted, picking up her controller.
“I used the blood of one of the guys who murdered me,” I explained to her, plucking her controller from her grasp and tossing it aside. “I personally witnessed him commit murder, so don’t try and tell me that I didn’t use the blood of a murderer.”
She smiled up at me with her ashen lips. “You didn’t use the blood of a murderer,” she repeated. “Quinn Madsen is innocent.”