When Riley woke, the clock on the nightstand indicated it was ten-thirty. She rolled over and fought down a groan. Her arm was aching, as was most her body; she had to be one massive bruise. Riley kicked off the covers, too warm from the toxins the demon wounds had set loose. At least this time she wasn’t as sick as when she’d tangled with a Grade Three demon and nearly died.
To get her mind off her pains, Riley checked out the room. The space was bigger than she’d expected, with a desk, a wardrobe, a couch and a couple of chairs.
I’m in Scotland. How cool is that?
Not as cool as she’d planned after the previous night’s disaster.