RAISING CAIN

KELLI IRELAND

Table of Contents

RAISING CAIN

Other Books by Kelli Ireland

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Acknowledgments

Coming Soon!

About the Author

Copyright Information

Other Books by Kelli Ireland

THE KEY GUARDIANS

Raising Cain

Ruin of Souls (Coming Late 2015)

THE ASSASSIN’S ARCANUM:

The Immortal’s Redemption

THE PLEASURE BEFORE BUSINESS SERIES:

Stripped Down

Wound Up

Pulled Under

WILD WESTERN HEAT:

A Cowboy Returns (Coming Summer 2015)

Cowboy Proud (Coming Fall 2015)

Cowboy Strong (Coming Winter 2016)

Dedication

To my inner circle, the critique partners who made this book possible.

I’ll never be able to thank you enough.

CHAPTER ONE

THE FACT THAT FLAMING shit was an occupational hazard said something about my life. I scraped it off my boot with the edge of the shovel before dropping my personal version of office equipment into the wheelbarrow with a clang. It might have seemed silly to fuss over getting my boot clean, but bonnacon shit turned to cement when it cooled. That made it hard as hell to get off. The bonnacon in question, a large buffalo hybrid with curled horns and a tendency to shit fire when agitated, stood in his fresh straw chewing placidly, gazing at me through giant brown eyes.

“Keep this up and your temper tantrums will burn the barn down around you,” I told him. No response, though I hadn’t expected one. “You’re welcome, Sergeant.” I stepped back into the stable alley and shut his stall door.

Dust and straw danced on eddies of air when I pulled my cowboy hat off to fan my sweaty face. Released from its temporary prison, my ponytail unfurled, damp and heavy, and flopped down my back. For what had to be the thousandth time, I envied males their ability to discard their shirt when they worked. The heat of Nebraska’s Indian summer was oppressive. Clearly Mother Nature intended to deliver a few more sweltering days before fall set in. A quick glance at the large clock above the tack room confirmed my shift would end in fifteen minutes and I couldn’t wait for the bliss of a cool shower and clean clothes.

I leaned against the alley wall and allowed myself a rare moment of self-indulgent rest. Looking around, I took in the stalls and corrals that comprised my office. They were solidly constructed but portable out of necessity. The Macabre Menagerie, or Freaks’ Fair, moved town to town, city to city every few weeks, showcasing the most exotic paranormal creatures in the world. We were the Barnum and Bailey of dreams and nightmares, and the uninitiated couldn’t get enough.

For those on the outside looking in, the Fair was a cool place that heralded the strangest of the strange. Norms, or those who lacked the taint of a paranormal bloodline, could pay to touch some of us and stare at others without the threat of retaliation. They could, in their own minds, walk on the wild side, rub shoulders with those they subconsciously feared the most and call themselves braver for it.

It was illusion at its best.

From the inside looking out, the view was very different. It felt as if we were forever on display, like we lived inside a glass house where the lights were always on so the neighbors could see what we were doing. The view might comfort those who looked in, but it didn’t change the truth: freaks would always be stronger, faster, and more violent than any average neighbor. No walls could protect them from the darkest of us despite what they told each other during their board meetings, cocktail hours and little league games.

In this world, if you didn’t watch your step and listen for the footfall behind you, everything could change between one heartbeat and the next—for norms and freaks alike.

I worked as a stable hand with the Fair’s larger creatures, ranging from the ethereally beautiful and benign unicorns to the only puppy Cerberus ever produced. There were centaurs and yeti, a sphinx and a rare axex—a creature with a head of a hawk and body of lion, similar in nature to griffin—and a little of everything in between. And this was just inside the pens. Outside? The performers’ list was both endless and evolutionary since creatures signed up for and dropped off the program at the Fair’s every stop. Yet for six years I had stayed on and let the Fair shelter me, though I was likely the biggest secret they didn’t know they had to offer. It had been the only place to which I could conceivably run when the government-operated foster system for freaks had unwittingly let me go. Proof mistakes could be, and did get, made inside the system.

Looking around, my chest tightened in one of those rare moments of absolute clarity. These freaks had become the family I’d never known, had always craved, and would never give up.

Intent on finishing my shift duties, I pushed off the wall and started to shove my hair back under my hat. I froze mid-motion. This wasn’t the first time in the last few months my back had itched, but today I had the strangest sensation—sort of like when people say someone walked over their grave, only worse. This felt more like someone was here to measure me for my casket. I dropped my hat and snatched up the shovel as I spun to confront whoever, or whatever, was behind me. There was no one there. I snorted, half at my own jumpiness and half at the image of me wielding a shovel as a weapon.

“The next step toward insanity will have you filling a squirt gun with holy water, wearing gris gris and hiring a spiritual shaman to purify your aura,” I muttered to myself, cramming my hat on my head.

“Dani.”

I whipped around, still brandishing the shovel like a weapon, and my hat hit the dirt. Tipton, my boss and the Fair’s Beast Whisperer, headed toward me purposefully, his long strides devouring the distance between us. He was part demon with an uncanny gift for working with and managing the Fair’s animals. But I wasn’t interested in any of that. He wouldn’t be here unless—

“Blythe called in sick. You’re going to have to pull a double.” He held up a hand to stave off my retort. “No help for it and you know it.”

“Son of a bitch, Tip, you know that’s not right,” I huffed, driving the shovel tip into the ground, my frustration at being startled bleeding over into irritation with my co-worker. I started to curse her but stopped abruptly. With my pedigree, malicious thoughts were a manifest bad idea whether backed by intent or not. Even if my suspicions were right and I lacked any significant abilities, the risks were simply too high.

If banshees were rare, then angels were infinitely rarer. And archangels? They were simply off-the-charts of scientific study. I was the daughter of a banshee and an archangel. My parents’ genetics—banshee mother, Archangel of Death father—had guaranteed my own pedigree would revolve around death manifest. It was a terrifying proposition, the idea I might accidentally cause someone’s death by cursing him a little too exuberantly when pissed off. Worse was the fear I might be found out. See, because I was an absolutely unique hybrid, I’d be a goldmine of information to the government, scientists, religious zealots and mystics alike…except for the fact I really was a total null. I was neither angelic nor a banshee, didn’t morph into anything whatsoever, and the only significant skill I had was in foretelling death when I touched a person with the palms of my hands. Of course, it might not matter to any of them, though, and I’d be just as likely to find myself institutionalized again, my own life out of my control.

I began to breathe harder and tremble. The idea that every stop could be the one where someone found me out made me want to pack up and run. But I craved what had become my home and cherished my privacy. So I would stay here, in the shadows, as long as the Fates would allow it. Tipton watched with narrowed eyes as I gathered myself from my little internal Fear Fest and got back to the conversation at hand—the one that would have me pulling a double shift. “I get stuck picking up her hours every time she takes someone new to her bed.”

He arched a heavy brow. “You paying attention to who’s bedding who now?”

I fought to meet the big man’s orange-flecked eyes, ignoring the blush that burned my cheeks. “I’m just saying I shouldn’t be held accountable for the apparent fact my co-worker does more work on her back than she does while standing on her own two feet.”

Tipton rubbed his upper lip hard, but he couldn’t suppress the grin. A deep chuckle reverberated through his massive chest. “True enough. I’ll talk to her. Doesn’t change the fact I’ve got to have you around to make sure the animals are prepped and ready for the matinee and to start evening feeds.”

Some days being the dependable one in a group sucked ass.

“Give me a fifteen minute break to catch my breath.” I grabbed the shovel, tossed it into the wheelbarrow and started past the large man. He reached out to benignly pat my shoulder and I shot out of his reach under the pretense of picking my hat up. I kept moving, increasing the distance between us.

Reaching the first straw bale I hadn’t yet scattered, I sank down and took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. Tipton frowned after me, though he didn’t comment or chastise me. My years at the Fair had taught the regulars I couldn’t stand to be touched. The kinder freaks called me skittish. The rest called me cold, or worse. Truth? I’d have given just about anything to touch someone, to feel his skin under my hands. I closed my fists and ignored the ever-present need that left me empty and raw.

“Fair enough.” Tipton turned and started down the aisle toward daylight. He stopped and looked over his shoulder, the backlight forming a diffused nimbus around his dark hair. “By the way, Khavien hired a new man and he’s walking the guy around today. I’m sure they’ll be through here later. Seems he’s making a point to introduce everyone.”

I tipped my water bottle toward him in acknowledgement. For Khavien, the Fair Boss, to walk the new guy around during daylight hours indicated his significance. As a dhampir—half-vampire, half-human—Khavien could tolerate sunlight but preferred deep shadows or true dark.

Khavien governed the majority of the bipeds and a few of the higher thinking quadrupeds. His sudden acquisition and reorganization of The Macabre Menagerie over thirty years ago had taken the once tiny, century-old freaks’ fair and turned it into the world’s largest, most profitably run paranormal show. First and second run tickets were often sold out weeks before the Fair arrived. He had been credited with improving relations between norms and freaks by pulling the two groups together in the neutral, even benign, environment of the Fair with no bloodshed or hostilities. I snorted and tossed down the straw I’d braided together. “No hostilities” only meant our security was tighter than Leavenworth’s. But it was only a matter of time before something happened. It was inevitable.

Resting my head against the stable wall, I smiled softly when a pair of velvety lips moved over my shoulder. A warm whuffle into my neck made me push my hat back and look up into the kelpie’s face. Lifting my bottle, I let him lick the heavy condensation. “Hey, Barnabus.” I turned the bottle so he could get the other side and lifted my free hand to run the length of his neck. I fully believed animals had souls, but my happy little “gift” didn’t work on them, thank the Holy. He leaned into the touch we both appreciated—him because he’d come to the Fair from a private collector who’d neglected him, and me because I craved the casual intimacy of friendship. The animals of the fair, in exchange for nothing more than fresh hay and the occasional treat, were happy to indulge me. Satisfied he’d licked away all the condensation, he moved back into his stall and I resumed my slouched position.

I was tired. Every time I tried to sleep lately, hazy images from a past best left behind resurfaced to assault my sense of well-being. I could hear the voices I attributed to my parents telling me I was absolutely unique, a treasure, and I had to keep their secret—me. Their bonding would have been forbidden by the heavenly realm of Malkuth, let alone by the government, thus leaving me an undeniably illegitimate, unauthorized crossbreed. Never mind that I wouldn’t harm another. I’d be deemed an unsanctioned anomaly and therefore a threat.

Freaks had existed with norms in relative peace for as long as recorded history before a series of misunderstandings led global governments to decide we posed a potential threat. Extremism had quickly taken the place of tolerance, thus breeding fear, contempt and the average citizen’s own morbid curiosity. The government had set up branches and divisions meant to monitor us—our marriages, procreation, hostilities, social integrations and more.

I had grown up under the care of the Federal Agency for the Management of Freaks in America, or the MoFiA, after my parents had abandoned me at age eight. I’d never forget the days I spent waiting for them to return before walking to the market, piggybank in hand, to buy peanut butter. I’d been so hungry. The store manager had called the MoFiA because my eyes—a clear, brilliant amber—marked me a freak. I had been dragged kicking and screaming from the store by hostile strangers and questioned about my parents, asked things I wasn’t supposed to answer…

I rubbed my chest and tried to focus on drawing a decent, if not deep breath around the shards of panic firmly embedded within. Holy help me, I didn’t want to fight this internal fight again. At some point I had assumed I’d give up the fear of being taken, of being forced to live institutionalized and without choices and, worse, as a lab rat with a finite lifespan. I just wanted my life, as simple as it was. Mine. How long could I be mentally penalized and emotionally pursued for something beyond my control? Would I ever stop looking over my shoulder? Pushing off my temporary seat with trembling arms, I forced myself to do a few stretches and regain control of the moment. I might be cautious bordering on fearful, but I wasn’t going to let the fear overwhelm me. Today, whatever had set me off in the alley, was an anomaly. No more.

Besides, no sense fretting over a past you can’t change and a future you’re too scared to see, I thought, grabbing the handles of the wheelbarrow and moving down the alley.

A ROUND OF CHEERS announced the afternoon puppet show. I let out a low, heartfelt curse. Had I not taken the break I wouldn’t have been left with three stalls to finish before I could move down the far alley and away from the noise. The puppet show, attended by both adults and children, featured the Freaks’ Fables, the stories freaks grew up hearing. Norms seemed fascinated with the concept we could have our own fictional characters and moral tales.

Enthusiastic clapping announced that the puppets had taken the stage. I couldn’t help but listen as the narrator began.

“On the night of the fullest moon…”

Fabulous, I groused. All I needed was to hear the stupid story of the Key again – though it was something freaks and norms had in common, the idea that any one object could begin the end of days. It would be followed by the Werewolf and the Huntsman; our version had a little less murdering and a little more understanding. I doubted norms picked up on that, though. Somewhere in the mix would be the story of the freaks’ version of Snow White, except she wasn’t one to lie down and wait for salvation. Several others would follow, culminating in a run on the cheap trinkets and story books the Fair’s visitors always devoured. They loved the narrated stories and took them as truth or something close enough to be mistaken as. I didn’t get it. I mean, seriously, did I get all worked up and try to park my ass in a pumpkin and wait for magical mice to help me walk in glass heels to find my perfect soul mate? No. On so many levels, no. I grinned and shook my head. What’s harder to believe—the idea of magical gourds or a soul mate? I might have been cynical, but it had helped keep me alive over the years.

Animals snorted and shifted uncomfortably when a child at the head of the stable alley let loose an exuberant squeal. A young boy, no more than three or four, broke away from his parents, squeezed through the locked gates and sprinted down the lane with the rapid, waddling gate of youth. His mother looked around from her seat in front of the gypsy-like puppet trailer before spotting his blonde head, fast disappearing in the dimly lit corridor. She bolted from her seat but was hung up by the locked gate. Scrambling over the bars, she called for the kid to stop. Her voice seemed to encourage him to run faster.

I shook my head in frustration even as a sense of foreboding made my back muscles twitch. The stables were off limits to visitors. Hefting the wheelbarrow, I turned with the intent of blocking the aisle just as the little shit shot past me. Faster than I thought, I mentally grumbled. The kid’s mother, totally focused on catching her son, misgauged the opening between the stall wall, me, and the wheelbarrow. We crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs and four-letter words. My fingers instinctively wrapped around her bare upper arm as I moved to push her off me and the world faded to dark. It lasted only a moment, but death rarely took longer.

She wore black to the funeral, a poor color choice for her but appropriate. Her son lay inside the small casket, the lid closed because of the trauma to his tiny body.

“Killed by a monster,” murmured someone in attendance.

“Should shut that traveling freak show down,” said another.

Her husband approached her silently and she collapsed into his outstretched arms, completely and totally broken. Her only child, lost to her because she hadn’t been fast enough to reach him before—

I shoved her off me with brute force and broke into a dead run the minute I got my feet under me. The shadowy form of the boy stood looking over his shoulder as he rattled the stall door of the pricolici—half werewolf, half vampire, whole-hearted killer.

Of all the damn stalls he could have chosen.

A deafening roar sounded. The boy looked up and then froze. A hairy, muscled arm swept out and down, close enough to the boy’s head that the backwash of air ruffled his fine hair. He’d been saved by the fact that sunlight made the monster groggy. But when the kid started to wail, the creature effectively gained a homing beacon. I kicked harder and launched myself at the child, yanking him to my body while rolling over to absorb our impact with the ground. The pricolici’s arm swept down again, claws extended. We hit the dirt well outside his reach.

The were-vamp snarled at me, pink-tinged saliva stringing from lips peeled back over sharp teeth and needle-like canines. “You owe me a life, shit shoveler. Fresh blood.”

“I don’t owe you anything, Grainger. You know you can’t snack on the guests.” My voice was surprisingly calm despite the fact I couldn’t catch my breath and was fast losing the battle to fear-induced nausea. “You’ll have to satisfy yourself with the norms’ Death Row inmates or else be euthanized yourself. Your choice and you know it.”

The pricolici slipped back into his dark sleeping chamber, his soft, mocking laughter following like a vapor trail. The moment passed. With a near perceptible click, the sounds that panic had held at bay were released. The kid whimpered, the higher thinkers called for help and Tipton barreled down the alley toward me. Khavien tried to get the kid’s mother to stop screaming. A small crowd of the morbidly curious had gathered at each end of the alley, jockeying for position in the hopes of seeing some gory catastrophe. Sick bastards.

Tipton pulled the boy out of my arms and started for the hysterical mother. I pushed myself up and dusted the dirt and shit from my clothes, wincing at the painful twinge in my shoulder. Must’ve landed harder than I thought. I rolled my head back and forth, glancing at the shadow-engulfed pricolici. Nothing moved inside the dark steel cage but I felt Grainger’s gaze tracking me. Snatching my hat off the ground for what I hoped was the final time today, I slapped it against my thigh before shoving the battered piece back on my head.

The boy’s father joined the group and seized the kid from Tipton’s arms, holding his son close. “Please,” he said, eyes shifting between Tipton and Khavien, “she saved our son. We’d like to offer her something.” He passed the child to the mother and retrieved his checkbook to scribble out a check, then handed it over to Khavien. “Take the money. Rest assured we won’t be back. This place is fundamentally wrong, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t thank her for saving one of her own.”

Ah. He missed my eyes and thinks I’m a norm.

It wasn’t the first time someone had made the mistake, particularly from a distance. I dropped my chin and shook my head, thereby missing the family’s hasty retreat. Looking up, I found Khavien staring at me through narrowed eyes. Time slowed and grew oppressive, pressing down on me until my bones ached. My heart thudded wetly in my chest, each beat punctuated by an audible pause. He saw the whole thing go down. May the Holy help me, he saw me. I turned and laid my head on my forearm against the nearest stall door. Twenty-one years of protecting myself—gone. For one dark moment, I wondered if the boy’s life had been worth the sacrifice of my own.

“Dani,” Khavien hissed, “get your ass to my office. Now.” He spun on his heel and stormed toward the end of the alley, never pausing to see if I followed.

ENTERING THE COOL INTERIOR of Khavien’s office was like stepping into a world far removed from the Fair’s crappy pay and transient lifestyle. The perpetual dust that clung to everything seemed repelled by the chic nature of the classic décor. By default it seemed to repel me.

The air conditioner clicked on and the cold further solidified the block of ice in my stomach.

The door slammed shut and Khavien brushed by, moving to take his seat behind the large antique desk. The dhampir was wickedly attractive in a Calvin Klein model sort of way. He ran long, tapered fingers through his blonde hair, mussing the trendy executive’s cut, and pinned me with serious, deep blue eyes. “Sit down.”

I perched on the edge of the plush leather guest chair and took a deep breath, locking my hands together, and warily shifting my gaze to meet his. C’mon, Dani. You can do this. You’ve survived questioning before. Take control. “I can’t believe the puppet trailer is setting up so close to the pens, Khavien. It seems a little dangerous when parents don’t keep better control over their kids.”

Khavien leaned back in his seat and linked his hands behind his head, his tongue running over one of his fangs without thought. “Cut the bullshit. Tell me how you saved that kid from Grainger.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t want to talk about it, K.”

“Too damn bad.” Khavien pushed out of his chair and moved to the wet bar. He poured out three fingers of Scotch, took a long draw and blew fumes out his nose. “You knew when you signed on that one of the job requirements of every employee included providing parentage for the Fair’s program. I’ve let you refuse for too long because I like you. But after what I saw today? No more putting me off. Tell me what you are, Dani.”

“I can’t.” The answer, far from defiant, barely crossed the distance between us.

“Bullshit.” He slammed his glass on the counter and I heard the foot crack. The dhampir watched me, considering. “You’re beautiful, but that’s not news. You’re also tall and graceful. You’re remarkably strong, and there’s something about you that makes the others keep their distance even as they crave you. It’s the recipe for a seductress if nothing else.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve told you before—I’m nothing special.” The ache in my chest blossomed like an emotion caught in a time-lapsed camera. I gripped the seat cushion, trying not to give in to the urge to rub at the sharp pain. Forget me. Let me fade back into the background. Let me be a shit shoveler who works hard and is hardly noticed. Please.

“You’re something unique. I’d bet my existence on it.”

Too close. He was too close. “Then it’s been good knowing you.” My redirection fell flat. I had to avoid him, avoid this conversation. Fisting my hands in my hair, I said, “Look, I’m not having this conversation. If this is what you called me in here for, then I’m going to go.” I started to stand.

“What you’re going to do is sit right there and tell me how you saved that child’s life,” K hissed, the veneer of normality folding away to reveal a piece of the monster beneath.

Falling back into my seat, my emotions swung wildly, seeking some anchored response that would deter him, that would scare him off from pursuing his insistent questioning about my pedigree. With nothing concrete, I finally snapped out, “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“Yeah, you do. I’m sure you saw the parents leave this small token of their appreciation.” He flipped the check across the corner of the desk and I watched the narrow slip of paper slide to the edge and over, floating to the floor. I had the same sense of falling without the hope of a gentle landing.

“What do you want from me?” I asked through stiff lips.

“For starters? I want the truth. It’s been six years and I haven’t pushed you, Dani. Six. Years.”

“I’ve been a good employee. I’ve always done my job and then some.” I bit my cheek hard enough it bled, forcing myself to stay calm and not bolt. If I ran, he’d catch me or turn me in to the authorities for manipulating norms—which I hadn’t—and any chance I had at talking my way out of this was done.

“This isn’t an employment evaluation. Tell me what you are and I’ll let you stay.”

My head jerked up and I stared at him, dumbfounded. “You’d kick me out over my parentage? This is a fucking freak show, Khavien. I fit right in.”

“That’s the thing, Dani. You say you do but, short of a pretty pair of eyes, I’ve got nothing to prove it,” he said.

“And likewise you’ve got nothing to prove I’m lying.” He can’t kick me out. This is my home. This is all the family I’m ever going to have. Where would I go? I can’t lose this. Please… The thoughts raced through my mind like a digital marquee and I stood, beginning to pace in short circles, back and forth, back and forth in front of the chair.

Khavien stepped to the front of the desk. Settling his hips against it, he crossed his legs at the ankles and rested his hands in his trouser pockets. “I need to know that you’re not a threat to the others, Dani. There have been…rumblings.”

“Rumblings? What the hell does that mean?” Khavien shook his head and, fueled by my own panic, I rounded on him and powered on. “I’ve given you six damn years, K, and I’ve been nothing but a quiet, trustworthy employee. I’ve shown up for every shift. I’ve never been in a fight. Hell, I’ve not even been in a public disagreement.” I tossed my hat onto the nearest chair. “Why would you suddenly believe I’m dangerous?” I asked, seizing on the new opportunity to divert the conversation. Please, Holy, please—don’t do this to me.

“Give me some reason to believe that you’re not manipulating time or coercing visitors to drop you a few extra bills when you ‘save’ their kid.” His eyes were hard, and the check that rested by his feet mocked me and my seconds-earlier assumption. All I could do was stare. As if any reward was worth this, worth losing my home. Again. And no amount of money would keep me safe if anyone found out I was malekosh—angelic progeny. Life, as I knew it, would be over. But how long could I beg for my privacy? It took only seconds for my pride to catch up and roar past my common sense. “Give me twenty-four hours and I’ll be out.” Both numb and sick, I turned to go. He was in front of me with his hand on my breastbone before I realized he’d moved.

“Not so fast.” He ran his free hand down my arm and I instinctively fisted my hands to avoid touching him. His hand clamped down. “Hear me out, Dani. I want your lineage. Give it to me and I’ll make sure that if you’re ever taken, you’re registered with the Fair as an exotic, my exotic, and they can’t keep you.” His words were laced with dark promises, one thumb circling the sensitive underside of my wrist.

“You think that’s a better alternative?” I said softly. “To be caged here for everyone to stare at instead of caged there for everyone to look at and poke and prod? It’s no different, K. Caging me would be a death sentence. I’d rather die on my own than die in a cage…any cage.”

Surprise bled across Khavien’s face long after he snapped his jaw shut. No one defied him in this, his little kingdom. Most women I’d observed with him made absolute fools of themselves as they sought access to his bed and body. But I wanted nothing more than the anonymity that wasn’t his to give back, so I’d defy him as I saw fit.

“Move, Khavien,” I said in a low voice. The threat hung, both suspended and unspoken, between us.

He cocked his head to the side, eyes glittering unnaturally in the room’s dim light. “I know you told that woman’s future regarding her son. I saw it happen. Why are you shoveling shit when we could be making bank telling futures?”

I barked out a harsh laugh. “First, there’s no ‘we’ to it. Second, I don’t tell futures, K, I only foretell the role death has to play in someone’s life. Third, the last two fortune tellers you’ve had were killed for delivering fortunes your precious Fair guests didn’t approve of. Laws on the murder of freaks have improved, but it’s no consolation to the victim. I’m not dying so you can make a few more bucks.” I took a small step back and he followed me. He didn’t understand. No promise of fame could make me give up my secret, and no amount of money would make me tell anyone’s future. But what would you do for your home and your security? I shook my head and turned away from him and wrapped my arms around my core, desperation duking it out with my survival instinct. I hated K for reminding me how different I was, how unique a pedigree I sported. In a congregation of freaks, I was the freakiest of them all. Running a hand around the back of my neck, I pulled until my arm shook, trying to force the tension to dissipate. It didn’t work. “I can’t do this, Khavien. I quit.”

“Beelzebub’s smoking balls, Dani! Why the hell are you being such a hardass about this?” K roared, shoving past me as he headed over to the small sideboard to pour himself a new glass of Scotch. He sipped at the amber liquid, watching me intently.

“Me? This isn’t about me, K.” I bent over and picked up my hat, habitually swatting it against my leg. “If you hadn’t been in the right place at the right time, you’d have left me alone to shovel shit forever.” I rolled my hair up and slapped my hat on my head. “I’ll let you know where to send my last check.” Panic roared in my head so loudly I had to ask him to repeat his next words.

“You’re serious about this. What is it you’re hiding?” he asked quietly, though he watched me with hawkish eyes.

“There’s no right answer for you, K, because if I tell you true, you’ll accuse me of lying. If I lie, you’ll accuse me of lying. You’ve created a situation where I can’t win.” I started for the door, silently praying I’d make it far enough away from the trailer before nerves made me puke. Seven more steps.

“Who are you, Dani?”

He’d come so close to the edge of my own darkest question that I nearly stumbled. I stopped at the door and looked over my shoulder. “I’m nobody, Khavien. Until two minutes ago, I shoveled shit for a living. That ought to tell you everything.”

“You don’t need to quit, alright? We’ll work something out.” We faced off for several minutes, the tension in the room thicker than the common area’s coffee. Khavien stared at me with a naked hunger I neither understood nor trusted.

“Okay.”

“On one condition.”

I should have known. There was always a condition with Khavien. He’d negotiate with the Holy of Malkuth himself if he thought he’d get something out of Him. “Get on with it, K,” I ground out, desperation pulling my forehead so tight I had an immediate tension headache.

“I want you to put your talent to use.” He held up a hand to stop my immediate protest. “No. This is the price you’ll pay to preserve your privacy, so there’s no arguing, Dani.”

“The ‘price’?” I laughed bitterly. “I have a right to my privacy. I’m not required to lay myself bare before you, no matter how bad you want it, and I’m not required to destroy people with news they really don’t want!” But his demand reminded me that Khavien’s god was the all-powerful dollar and his church was somewhere in the Caymans. He was willing to drop the issue of my parentage in exchange for an increase in profits. But I knew, in the pit of my gut, if he ever discovered what I was, he’d sell the information just as fast. And he wasn’t going to let me walk out of here, not without some personal boon. I was well and truly trapped. In a moment of frustration, I dragged my hands over my face and screamed. The glass in the trailer shattered, raining outward, percussed. I dropped my hands by inches, my breath sawing in and out of my chest. I’d never lost my temper like this before—never—and it scared me. Bad. But worse? I had no idea how I’d set off my own little sound bomb.

“Banshee,” K whispered, a kind of reverent fear in his voice. “You’re at least part banshee.”

The urge to scream my denial hung up in my throat because I couldn’t lie. I shook my head and refused to look at him until I had my emotions under control. When I finally faced him, things went from bad to worse.

“You stay. I won’t publish what I now strongly suspect about your heritage.”

A strange, deep voice I didn’t recognize called out from just beyond the door, “You alright, K?”

“I’m fine.” The dhampir assessed the damage before turning back to me “You owe me for damages.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but to what end? He was right. I’d have to settle with him, but I couldn’t afford to pay for the repairs from my emergency money. There wouldn’t be enough left over to buy a bus ticket to anywhere further than the next zip code. The sensation of being trapped wound around me and my fingers flexed with the need to strike out.

“To repay me, you’re going to start telling fortunes, Dani, and you’re not going to argue about it.”

“You want a fortune teller? Fine…with conditions.” Inwardly, I smiled. If I was going to end up forced to agree, I was going to make it worth my while. “I want a personal bodyguard, someone capable who can be available 24/7. I don’t want a single shift without that guard outside my tent to handle any threats. I want a guard by my trailer, too. And if, for any reason, that guard’s unavailable, I want you to guard me, because I’m not dying for you, Khavien. Not under any circumstance.”

Khavien closed his eyes and took a deep, entirely unnecessary breath. “Anything else?”

Why not? “I want a four hundred percent raise, non-negotiable, and forgiveness of the debt I owe for repairs.”

His eyebrow twitched and I thought, for a split second, he might change his mind.

“If I were to actually meet your insane demands, you’re telling me you’d give me your word, that you’d give this a try.”

I faltered, stuttering over a mess of syllables and consonants.

He opened his eyes. “Answer me, Dani.”

Oh hell. If I gave my word, I was bound. It wasn’t any mystical shit, just a personal thing. I’d been on the receiving end of too many lies to issue my own. I just couldn’t.

“Your word,” he pressed.

With my mind screaming protestations, I said, “Sure. I give you my word.”

He loosed a slow, broad smile. “Cain?” he called out.

“Yeah?” answered the voice from outside the shattered windows.

“Step in here. I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

I turned toward the door and backed up when a small giant of a man stepped through. Easily 6’8”, he had broad shoulders and a narrow waist that formed a perfect “V.” He was built beautifully, his forearms thick with muscle, his hands large and wide. Silvery scars crisscrossed his arms and the backs of his hands. A square jaw defined a face graced with a full bottom lip and perfectly shaped cupid’s bow for an upper lip. His nose was surprisingly straight and narrow. With his size I’d have expected a break or two obtained in some sort of brawl. Hm. His thick, black, wavy hair fell past his shoulders, and he had the kind of skin that would tan a golden brown but never burn. Wearing faded jeans and an Aerosmith t-shirt, he looked delicious, but it was his eyes that demanded my attention. Intense blue irises that burned with flecks of orange as brilliant as aged flame bored into mine. Another demon.

He arched a brow and I blushed, clearing my throat. He held out a hand and I glanced at it before looking away. “I don’t shake hands.”

“Unique way to greet somebody,” he rumbled, dropping his hand away. “Name’s Cain.”

I nodded and risked a quick look back at him. “Dani.” An undeniable yearning for the creature spread through me, an intense interest to know everything about him, from how his hair would feel running through my fingers to the shape of his toes to the way we’d fit together in bed. What the hell? I took a quick step back and shook my head. How? How had he gotten inside my head and manipulated my feelings? It went against everything I allowed myself.

He chuckled, the sound something like a physical caress. “It’s been a while since I’ve made the acquaintance of such a…delicious woman.” Cain’s gaze raked me head to toe, lingering in areas that were none of his damned business. His smile widened, my discomfort clearly amusing him.

“Eyes up, Cain.” I stepped further away from him, scratching the skin between my shoulders. “I don’t need a physical score card from you or anyone else.”

“But it’s a great score.”

“Can the commentary.” I shifted my attention back to Khavien, self-consciously stepping further from the new man. The extra distance seemed prudent. “Who’s the new grinder monkey?”

Khavien grinned enough to show fang. “Your new bodyguard. You now officially make four times more than you did shoveling unicorn shit.”

I stepped back but Cain moved to block me, his hands drawing even stronger sensations from me when they made contact with my upper arms.

“Get your hands off me—”

“Specialty Demon,” he whispered against the shell of my ear.

I jerked as if I’d been hit with a cattle prod. Specialty Demons were typically Sheol-bound. I’d been around tons of hybrid and half-demons at the Fair, but this was the first time I’d been formally introduced to a Specialty.

A hard shiver rocked me and Cain’s grip tightened. I had no idea if he’d be able to out me as angelic progeny—malekosh—because of his stronger ties to Sheol. If he could, I’d have to start laying contingency plans. I should know soon enough, though.

Cain laid his chin on my shoulder, and I tried to pull away, to keep my hands far away from him without being obvious. He tightened his grip. Drawing a great lungful of air, he let it out in a rush at the same time I involuntarily whimpered.

Closing my eyes, I took deep, calming breaths. My heart beat against my ribs in a thundering rhythm and my fingers drummed a counter beat on my thigh.

“Son of a bitch,” he ground out, holding onto me until the heat between us approached unbearable. “Been a long damn time since I’ve had this type of response to someone.”

“And just why is that?” I struggled and his grip tightened impossibly, the threat of bruising very real. What was going on? I never reacted this way to men. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow this attraction. He was dangerous in his own rights if he could manipulate me so easily, make me want what no man had successfully made me want—something I could never have. Touch. I couldn’t touch him. Ever. I felt the heat of his hands permeate my body and, against my will, I relaxed in his hands.

Cain whipped his hands away and lurched backward, putting distance between us. “This—putting us together—is a bad idea, K.” His voice was as smooth as heated caramel.

I turned toward him, eyes heavy with lust, and rolled my lower lip between my teeth. “Really, really bad idea.” I fought my way up from the depths of lust he held me under, thrashing and struggling internally to reach the surface and be able to breathe again. Still, it was a battle, and one he fought as well. My secret was safe or he’d have loosed the truth as a matter of self-defense, if not male pride, for having fallen under my non-existent Malkuthian charm.

He glanced at me and did a double-take. “Shit,” he snarled.

Khavien stood and slammed his fists against his desk. “Both of you cut the bullshit.” He moved around his desk and kept coming until he was mere inches from me. “Your first shift starts Tuesday night, which gives me time to hire your replacement. Get your shit together between now and then.” K jerked his head toward Cain. “He’ll serve as your ticket-taker and bodyguard when you work, and the rest of the time he’ll just be your bodyguard. His trailer went in next to yours earlier and can be moved so close they touch for all I give a shit.”

“You know why I’m here and it’s got nothing to do with playing keeper for her or anybody else,” Cain snapped.

K’s grin was feral. “I know exactly why you’re here. I’m obligated to help you, but there were no specific terms of assistance in recovering the Key. I intend to make the most of the free labor. You can search while you work. Working with her will also offer you unquestioned access to the grounds.” Khavien met my confused gaze then looked back at Cain. “If you find what you’re after, let me know.”

I bit my bottom lip harder and looked back and forth between the two men. “The Key? As in, the Freaks’ Fairytale Key?”

“It’s none of your concern,” they chorused.

“Yeah? Seems like it is if you’re chasing shadows or trying to bottle the wind and you expect my help.” I tried for nonchalance and failed. But the ever-present kernel of distrust that I’d been discovered, that my secret was no longer safe, flared deep in my belly. A resulting nervous flutter had me self-consciously rubbing my stomach.

“You worry about doing your job. Let me worry about managing personnel.” K’s voice split the air, whip-like.

The room seemed to shrink in on itself as my focus narrowed to K. “You want a fortune teller? You’ve got one. But our agreement stands: you don’t push me about—” I glanced at Cain, “—stuff.”

Cain started to say something but snapped his jaw shut at my scathing look.

K held out his hand. “I accept. Shake on it, Dani.”

“I thought she didn’t shake hands,” Cain said, confused.

“For this she does.” Khavien said softly and held his hand out, waiting.

I didn’t have much choice. The Fair was the source of my security, the home of my extended family and my home. The idea of abandoning home was foreign to me. And I couldn’t leave. Not until I knew what I was capable of doing to survive. The Fair was my only experience outside an institutionalized life. Add this to the fact I’d given my word? I was bent over the proverbial barrel, pants around my ankles.

Khavien’s eyes narrowed. “Consider me your first customer.” I hesitated and he growled, “Do it.”

Grabbing K’s hand, I intended to let go immediately, but the room darkened for a moment before coming back into focus. My hand tingled, and I flung his away. The gesture probably came across as petulant, but I didn’t care. The doorway beckoned. Retribution stopped me at the threshold and made me glance back. “I’d be very wary of the next hand you try to force, Khavien. It doesn’t end well for you.”

K followed me through the doorway demanding answers. Unfortunately for him, my little gift didn’t work that way.

The Fair had its fortune teller, and his had been the first fortune told.

CHAPTER TWO

THE CROWDS SWELLED AND tent lines grew visibly longer as carnies called out offers for tickets, games, shows and treats. Anxiety swamped me, excess adrenaline fraying my nerves as I wove my way through the masses, dodging people haphazardly. Navigating the crush of bodies made me feel like a spawning salmon. The unrelenting current of norms and freaks pressed toward the center of the Fair en masse, the din of their excited voices flooding my mind with static. I slipped through each small opening that appeared, careening off strangers’ shoulders at times. It didn’t matter that I had abandoned my shift for the first time, or that fellow employees and performers called out greetings as I passed. I couldn’t get to my trailer fast enough.

The freedom of anonymity had been stripped from me without warning or consideration, leaving me exposed, even vulnerable, to strangers’ curiosity. That was dangerous because I couldn’t defend myself from such a simple concept when I was being thrust into the limelight. And the shattering glass… How in the name of Malkuth’s Holy King had I managed that? Something told me the Holy wouldn’t help with this little problem, but I pled with the heavens just the same. I sped up when I hit the edge of the exhibit grounds and the hordes thinned. Long before I reached my trailer, I was running. Sliding to a stop in front of my steps, my hands shook as I dug the key ring out of my pocket then fumbled with the locks.

“C’mon, c’mon,” I pleaded.

“Everything ok, Dani?”

I whipped around, keys flying from my hand. Jax, one of my favorite centaurs, didn’t even look down when they bounced off his bare chest and landed in the dirt with a faint clink. Too startled to speak, I could only nod.

“You don’t look okay,” he observed as he knelt to pick up the keys. “In fact, I’d be willing to say that, for the first time in six years, you look rather…shaken, as if your axis has been tilted against your will.” Leave it to a centaur to strike the heart of the matter.

“I, uh,” I shook my head and held up a hand. Deep breaths—take slow, deep breaths.“She’s disgruntled to have me assigned as her keeper, no doubt.” Cain stepped out from behind a neighboring trailer and I jumped.

He’d followed me, tracked me through the crowd, and I’d never known. Bending at the waist, I wrapped my arms around my core and tried even harder to control my breathing. I was humiliated that his first impression of me was that I ran from conflict, and I was scared that it would give him cause to question me about this Key business. I didn’t know anything about it, but I was sure my darting away hadn’t helped with appearances. Way to go, I mentally chastised myself, slowly regaining some control of the moment.

Cain leaned against the flimsy aluminum wall of my battered aluminum travel trailer and I worried for a second that he might fall through.

The centaur disregarded the new male, unlocking my door before tucking the keys in the front pocket of my jeans in a proprietary manner. Hope clearly—annoyingly—lingered, no matter how many times I told him no.

I shook my head then turned and swung the door wide, stepping up into the interior’s twilight. “Thanks, Jax.” I pulled the wire cable to raise the steps, tucking them under the doorway with a metallic screech.

“Do you need company?” Jax continued to ignore Cain.

“Dude, what she needs is for you to leave so I can talk to her. That’s what she needs. Now giddy-up.” Cain never moved, his tone backing up his body language in wordlessly conveying his boredom.

“Listen here you, you—”

“Specialty Demon, and I don’t need your consent to talk to the lady. Now put those four legs to good use and get the hell out of here before I call for a saddle and spurs.”

Jax drew himself up to his full height. “You are an abomination!”

“Neigh neigh, motherfucker. Sticks and stones and all that. Now go.” Cain’s voice dropped low and deep, and the orange flecks in his blue eyes burned with intensity. He pushed off the side of the trailer and took a step toward Jax. The centaur instinctively backed up. “That’s what I thought,” Cain said, sneering. “Get lost. I need to talk to Dani.”

Humiliation bloomed high and bright across Jax’s face and spread down his chest. He opened his mouth, paused and then snapped it closed. Pulling himself up to his full height again, he spun on his back feet and walked away, spine stiff, pride clearly bruised.

Cain stood in front of me, his shoulders blocking the doorway. “Drop the steps, Dani.”

My heart beat so hard I knew he had to hear it, and my hands shook as I reached for the door. I needed privacy. “Go. To. Hell,” I spat.

“Been there, done that, got a hall pass. Look, I’m going to be working with you five, maybe six days a week and living right next to you.” He jerked his head toward the nice, new fifth-wheel camper parked next to mine. “We might as well get to know each other.” Cain smiled, a deep dimple flashed and things low in my body responded.

Oh hell no.

“Let me set you straight.” My voice dropped back to a growl and my arms crossed tight across my chest. “You may be working for K, assigned to my tent and serving as my bodyguard, but we don’t have to talk for you to successfully execute those duties. I don’t need that particular brand of ‘friendship,’ I’m not interested in your attention and, short of you acting as my personal space heater, there’s not much that you can do to improve my quality of life. So back up and back off.” I shoved at his shoulder with my booted foot. It should have been effective encouragement for him to get off my door. He didn’t budge.

“You need to learn to relax.” He leaned in to look around the spartan interior of my trailer. I knew what he saw: threadbare carpet, worn linoleum, cheap wood-paneled walls and a general lack of light in the one room shanty on wheels. I knew because they were the same things I saw every time I opened the door. Most days I didn’t mind the tiny travel trailer I called home, but there were times the diminutive space felt claustrophobic. Yet home is home, and the whole thing belonged to me. I didn’t need more than that.

“Let down the steps. I’ll come in and we can talk.”

“Uh-uh. I don’t want to talk. I want you to go away—far away, if you catch my drift.”

A strange look passed over his face before he schooled it back to its congenial façade. “Getting this job finished and waving goodbye in the rearview mirror is enough to give me a hard on, I want it so bad.”

“Why?” I asked, again deflecting. But he’d played this game.

“Oh, no. This isn’t about me, angel.”

I stiffened. “I’m not an angel.”

“Whatever.” He snorted. “I’ll bet my left nut you’re an exotic.”

I gaped at him.

“What? It’s my favorite nut.”

“Holy. Shit. I’m stuck with you?” I shook my head in slack-jawed disbelief.

He shrugged and grinned wickedly but his eyes remained disturbingly shrewd. “I overheard most of what you and K argued about. What’s the big deal about him finding out what you are? I wouldn’t think it would really matter.”

I had spent nearly a lifetime successfully evading suggestions and inquiries. And while I wasn’t interested in having the conversation again with anyone, I seriously didn’t want to have it with the pain-in-my-ass new Fair employee. Clearly, though, we were either going to have the conversation with him standing where other freaks might hear him or I had to invite him in. Cursing below my breath, I unhooked the cable and let the stairs fall, forcing Cain to jump out of the way. “The ‘big deal’ is that speculation is exactly how rumors get started.” I stepped back and waved him in. “You’ve got fifteen minutes.”

“You’d be amazed at what I can do with fifteen minutes.” Cain stepped inside the trailer and pulled the door shut. His large frame completely overwhelmed the space and his head brushed the ceiling. He’d take out the only ceiling light in the place if he didn’t watch where he walked.

I peeled off my boots and, instead of dropping them in the shower stall as usual, I set them in the box usually reserved for dirty clothes. Using it saved me from having to move past the demon. I didn’t want to risk his touch again.

“I heard that about you,” he said, lifting his chin to gesture toward my boxed boots.

“What’s that?” Scuffing my sock-clad feet across a small rug to knock off any loose dirt, I shoved them into ratty slippers. New ones were probably in order, but the old ones were comfortable. Besides, I always felt guilty throwing stuff away when it wasn’t absolutely necessary.

I just wanted him gone. Letting the steps down and inviting him into my personal space had been a mistake of epic proportions—the kind of mistake I normally didn’t make. The cost was high in rattled nerves and stomach cramps, both from proximity and the strange temptation he presented. I growled in frustration, deep in the back of my throat.

“You don’t want me to leave. At least your body doesn’t.” Cain looked up at me through thick lashes and impossibly blue eyes.

I glanced at my watch, doing my best to ignore the anxiety that made my wrist shake. “Make that thirteen minutes. And yes, yes I do.” I tried to untie the end tip of my braid but my hands shook too badly and I let them fall away. My stomach was raw from the undiluted emotions of the afternoon and the proximity of the physical temptation that was Cain. Nothing was going the way I needed it to go, and I wasn’t even sure how to backtrack and make it right at this point.

“Maybe I should have just left you to Mr. Ed,” he muttered, sinking into the single chair at my tiny bistro table. “I heard you were a real stickler for clean. Hey, this looks like that wrought iron patio furniture you can get at the big box stores.” He ran a finger over the punch-cut diamond pattern of the black metal.

“It was cheap, I could afford it, and it’s served me well. Would you like to know about any of my other furniture?” I was silently pleased his finger had come away from the table dust-free. Before I could open my mouth to suggest he take off his shoes, he spoke.

“Since the only other piece in here is the bed, I’d have to say yes, I’m very interested in your other furniture.”

I rose to my full height and stared at him coldly. “Apparently the rumor mill hasn’t completed your induction yet, Cain, so allow me to bring you up to speed. I don’t screw around for fun or for pleasure, for once or for keeps—not with you, not with anybody. So if that’s why you wanted to be invited in, may I suggest you make all possible haste for your trailer and…” I made a crude hand gesture. “Self service is a much better bet than I’ll ever be, and I’d imagine you’ve had plenty of practice.” Frustrated he’d gotten to me again, I sat back down with a sigh and chucked my hat at the sink. My head ached. When I moved to unwind the ponytail holder, it made a tangled mess. I closed my eyes and fought the urge to curl up on the bed and wait for him to leave. Would not a single damned thing go right today? Sighing, I opened my eyes and found Cain watching me with naked interest. “You need to leave.”

“Feet cold?”

“What? Why?”

He shrugged before he said, “First, you told me I’d be good as a space heater. Second, you wear insulated boots and wool socks on hot days, come home and strip the boots but leave the woollies on. Third, you shoved them into the slippers. They must be cold.”

“I’ve always had cold feet,” I answered softly, scrunching my toes further into the ratty slippers. The antagonized banter I could handle. Intimate observations threw me.

“A lot of exotics have strange quirks.” Cain stood. “Be ready a few minutes before seven Tuesday. I’ll pick you up here for your first show. In the meantime, I’ll be around. I may bug you to make some introductions as you finish up your work as stable hand. In the meantime, give some thought to Fair employees. Whose behavior would make them seem ‘off’ to you?”

“You’re asking me to turn on my friends, some of whom are like family, Cain. I won’t do it.”

“We’ll see.” He stepped to the door and pushed it open, squinting into the sunlight before looking back at me. “You sure you don’t want to tell me what it is you don’t want Khavien to know?”

I shook my head, mute with determination.

“Fine. I’ll figure it out.” He rolled his head back and forth before starting down the steps.

“There’s nothing to figure out.”

“Everyone has secrets, Dani. The only difference is how big they are and how deep they run.”

He shut the door in the face of my agitation and that earlier kernel of anxiety flared to life. I sank to my bed, fighting the urge to run because, face it—I had nowhere to go, no way to get there and an agreement to honor.

I TOSSED AND TURNED all night, frustrated with the way I’d been handled by first Khavien and then Cain. More than six years had passed since I’d let someone assert that much control over me. In fact, it had been just before I’d ended up at the Fair. Weeks before my twenty-third birthday, when I would have reached the age of paranormal independence, the Regent at my foster home had handed me a letter and an envelope. The letter advised that I’d been deemed an unidentified species and was therefore not eligible to remain in the federally funded foster care system for paranormal kids. My pre-release bloodwork was “highly abnormal.” In other words, they couldn’t identify me against their database. The letter closed with the demand that I deliver myself to the nearest federal lab so I could be microchipped and classified. The envelope made that possible by way of $500 in cash and a one-way bus ticket. The Regent had deposited me on the porch to wait while she gathered my small backpack of belongings. I wondered, both then and now, what I’d done that warranted robbing me of the last days I’d have in the foster home. I’d never exhibited any signs of physical metamorphosis, I’d never displayed untoward aggression unless I was defending myself, and I’d always, always followed the rules. But it didn’t matter. Knowing wouldn’t change the truth, and the truth was that I’d never been fostered, and the word “home” was just a lie. I hadn’t lost anything in being denied those last few weeks and, as an act of defiance, I hadn’t been microchipped. I figured in all their excess paperwork, one unchipped freak wouldn’t set off any alarms or change the national security threat code color.

Thoughts of home led me back to the afternoon’s confrontation. Had I done the right thing? Was this place worth the risk? No matter which way I turned or what shape I bunched my pillow, I couldn’t find the answers. Something obscure lurked at the edges of my consciousness, something I couldn’t quite get to materialize. Fifteen minutes before the alarm sounded, I officially gave up on sleep and crawled out of bed. Rote movements took over as I put on a pot of coffee. Sounds of the percolating pick-me-up gave me hope as the rich, dark smell wove through my senses. I stretched, hands touching the ceiling and spine popping, before taking the four short steps back to my bedside. Digging through the plastic hamper I used in lieu of a real closet, I pulled out my daily uniform. The trailer shimmied offensively when I wiggled into jeans nearly white from washings then slipped on a T-shirt I’d won on a radio show: Touch My Dials & I’ll Break Your Antennae.

When I stepped outside a few minutes later, I had to admit to a strange sense of relief that nothing here had changed. The crisp fall air tasted clean and dry. The moon sat low against the horizon, ready to give up its place in the sky to the sun. An owl called nearby. Freaks’ Fair creatures large and small rustled in the darkness. I took a long sip of black coffee and started across the field, ready to join them. This? This I knew.

I couldn’t stop my involuntary glance at Cain’s trailer and was surprised to find lights on. He hadn’t seemed like an early riser. A form moved by the window and startled me into hurrying toward the corrals, anxious to avoid confrontation. The feeling of being watched made me move faster. I hadn’t made it twenty feet when a sultry feminine laugh swept across the air. Against my better judgment, I stopped and turned around. Ahallia, the Fair’s mara, stood in Cain’s doorway. Creatures of the night, maras appeared as beautiful women to the men they chose to seduce. Others, and women in particular, weren’t so lucky. Maras were skilled at slipping into dreams and bringing about a person’s darkest fears. A particularly talented mara could, quite literally, scare a person to death. Ahallia didn’t seem to care so much about instigating nightmares unless someone threatened her current obsession. But the men? She covered that part of her nature as tight as a condom to a hard cock. Only a fool would wonder why she’d visited Cain, and I was no fool.

She looked at me and sneered, rubbing a hand down her side and caressing her nearest breast. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I so did not need this. She generally left me alone, and I could probably thank both my own notorious abstinence and Khavien’s fondness for me. He didn’t put up with her treating the Fair’s females poorly. Now that Cain was here, I imagined I’d have to watch my dreams a bit more closely, buy a stronger charm to ward her off. My proximity to the demon, however temporary, would make me an easy target for her jealousy.

Morbid curiosity made me wonder if she’d spent the whole night or just part of it. Laughing quietly at myself, I moved toward the refuge of back-breaking work and predictable routine. You don’t need to complicate your life by giving in to the fantasy. That the thought was bitter surprised me. Even so, I couldn’t help but compare myself to the classically beautiful mara as I turned away and began moving toward the stalls again.

My hair hung to the middle of my back and reminded me of my mother’s: thick, wavy and colored like old, burnished mahogany. Vague memories told me I also had my mother’s delicate face and fine-boned build.

My father, when he’d been around, had always seemed colossal to my child-self, but I realized now that my impression was probably close to true. I’d inherited my height—six feet, two inches—from him. My most arresting feature was my eyes. Their bronzy, almost electric color matched what I remembered of him. And while I might not remember much, this I recalled with certainty.

Uncomfortable with my appearance, I’d become very adept at looking at myself without really seeing, and hearing compliments and come-ons without really listening. Until him, I’d never given the way I looked another thought.

Shaking off the insecurity, I picked up my shovel and tossed it in my wheelbarrow. How I looked didn’t matter one way or another. Cain had plenty of willing bedmates to choose from, and I had no intention of volunteering my name to the growing list.

THE TANG OF ANIMAL hides melded with the sickly sweet scents of straw and manure, growing heavier as the heat of the day approached oppressive. Sweat soaked the headband of my cowboy hat and forced me to shed my T-shirt in favor of the lighter-weight sleeveless tank I wore underneath. Dust seemed anxious to mix with the sweat on my skin and run in dark rivulets down my arms. The demands of familiar physical labor afforded my mind the opportunity to wander and I wasn’t pleased to find it drifting back to the demon. In particular, my mind kept going back to the apparent fact he was hunting the Key. No one knew what it was, so it was like finding a needle in a haystack. Supposition had been made that the Holy had blessed a single object and sent it to Earth as a weapon against evil. Of course, if Cain wanted it, was it good or…not? The sensory memory of the feel of his hands on my skin startled me, breaking my rhythm as I shoveled. The physical heat that had passed between us had been entirely unexpected, but the lust? That had been the real shocker. I’d never felt anything like it. I managed to keep all my relationships platonic. I couldn’t stand the brutal intimacy of knowing the role death would play in someone’s life, couldn’t control the crash of empathy that would wipe me out afterward. I couldn’t stand death ruling the most fundamental expression of life. Unexpected tears forced me to tilt my head back and swallow the unwelcome emotion. Distance was easier, more manageable, less threatening.

The sounds of female laughter snapped me out of my reverie. Early morning laughter was rare around here since the Fair was a late night employer. Everyone the people paid to see was still asleep, and it was much too early for the gawkers or thrill seekers to wander the grounds. They’d know only the grunts would be around, and we weren’t generally worth watching. Curiosity compelled me to step out of the stall. Once I had, I wished I’d have minded my own.

Cain strolled down the sawdust path that ran in front of the stables. Several women, all of them nymphs and members of the acrobatics squad, flitted around him as they vied for his attention.

As if that wasn’t every man’s wet dream. I snorted. Maybe the lot of them were his precious Keys.

The demon struggled to get his coffee cup to his lips, clearly disgruntled with the women hanging on him like they were. Still, he flirted wildly, flashing smiles and winks as naturally as he drew his next breath. When I heard him ask about the Key, my irritation rocketed off the charts as I spun back to my work.

That damned Key. It had to be a front for why he was really here. No one pulled into the Fair with a new $50,000 travel trailer to take a bodyguard’s job.

“It’s bullshit!” I snapped, and threw the shovel back into the stall.

The unicorn I’d been tending startled and wheeled to the back corner of his stall.

“Easy, Ash,” I murmured. He settled down and I made my way to him with care, talking quietly, until he relaxed and dropped his head for me to rub. I leaned against him, taking solace in the uncomplicated companionship. I’d miss this after I moved to my new position. Here I could touch and be touched without dark premonitions.

The laughter faded away, and I hoped that Cain and his happy harem had moved on. A small, involuntary sigh escaped me as I picked up my shovel to get back to work. When Khavien spoke, I shrieked.

“You watch him.” It was neither angry nor accusatory. Instead, the dhampir sounded mildly curious.

A mad blush stained my cheeks. “Yeah, I watch him—like a rash I’m concerned might spread.” Shoveling suddenly demanded more of my attention than normal.

He chuckled. “You’re foolish if you expect me to believe that.” I opened my mouth to argue and K snapped, “Don’t bother lying to me, Dani, even if you insist on lying to yourself.”

Stung, I continued to work without speaking. Khavien shifted out of the way as I moved past him to retrieve two bales of straw. He followed me wordlessly from stall to stall until I finally broke.

Rounding on him, I dropped the straw and pushed my hat back. “Why are you here?” He stood so close I staggered backward, surprised.

The sensual ferocity of his grin unnerved me. “You can deny it all you’d like, but I smell your lust and know he affects you the same way he affects every Fair female and several of the males.” His voice whispered over my skin, his own lust as palpable as the air on a humid Georgia night. Khavien stalked around me, wide enough that I didn’t have to turn with him, though I did. Giving him my back seemed like an invitation to trouble I didn’t need.

“What do you want from me, K?”

“The same things most men want from a beautiful woman. For the moment, I’ll settle for the truth.” He stopped and drew a deep breath, held it and seemed to roll it around his palate before exhaling slowly. “Tell me why you smell of lust for the first time in six years.”

“Lust?” I scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His hand shot out and grasped my jaw. “Don’t lie to me, Dani, and no parlor tricks.” With each word, he increased the pressure of his grip.

“Keep your hands off me, Khavien.” Uncontrolled fury drew my voice down a shaking octave. “Lust or no lust, you don’t have permission to touch me.” He didn’t move so I jerked my chin free and reached behind me for the shovel. “Force me to tell you again and I’ll make you bleed.”

He smiled and I couldn’t control my shiver at the sight of his fangs. “Tell me why you lust.”

“I don’t know.” The words were spoken softly but I knew he’d heard me.

“Truly?” He stepped closer on the single word and I backed up, setting the shovel between us.

“All I know is how he made me feel yesterday when I met him.” The monocerus, a horned creature melded from several animals, was getting restless and I didn’t need her upset so I motioned K out of the stall. We faced each other in the alley and he raised a single brow to indicate I should continue. “There’s something about him that affects me like no one else ever has.”

Khavien threw his head back and roared with laughter. Several of the animals in our vicinity protested the noise, and one of the higher thinkers even called out in heavily-accented English for us to shut the hell up. “So he didn’t tell you what he is?”

“I was there when he said he was a Specialty Demon,” I said, confused.

“Why do I get the feeling I’m being discussed?” Cain’s voice was genial and his body bespoke easy movement as he walked toward us. Both lied. How did I know? I’d made a study of people as a matter of survival. His nostrils pinched and flared as he breathed and the hand in his pocket was fisted while the other hung intentionally loose.

Khavien turned slowly to face the approaching man, an answering lie on his lips. “I was checking on Dani. My prerogative.” He glanced at me, daring me to contradict him. When I said nothing, he continued. “Focus on why you’re here and leave this alone.” The men stared at each other, neither blinking, until I moved. Khavien stalked away without another word and Cain watched him go, his thoughts concealed behind tight eyes and tighter lips.

Cain turned back to me. “Care to tell me what that was about?”

Instead of answering, I asked, “Why are you here, Cain? You don’t fit the average Fair employee profile.”

He shrugged. “I’m above average.”

“Very funny. Seriously,” I said, setting my shovel down, “what are you doing at the Fair?”

“It’s pretty straight forward, Dani. My past isn’t clean and I needed a place that wouldn’t ask many questions while I carry out my contract to find the Key. It was going so well until now.” He scowled. “Don’t ruin my run, Dani.”

I chewed on my cheek, unsure how to interpret that answer. It wasn’t what I’d expected and yet it wasn’t altogether surprising. There was another question that bugged me, and I wasn’t sure whether or not I should ask. My mouth decided before my mind agreed. “What type of Specialty Demon are you?” A furious blush spread up my cheeks and I closed my eyes. I needed a verbal filter in the worst way.

Cain cleared his throat and looked over my shoulder, rocking heel to toe, while he thought about how to answer me.

“Let me guess. You’re the equivalent of demonic Special Forces, sent in to do highly specialized, super-secret jobs which no one outside your unit would stand a chance of accomplishing.” I arched a brow at him in challenge but he said nothing. “Look, if it’s too difficult to answer, just forget it. I don’t want to know that badly.” I reached for the shovel leaning against the wall, intent on returning to work, but Cain grabbed it at the same time I did.

“You’re not far off. You know Specialty Demons are demons with skills above and beyond those of general torture and abuse. We’re scouted and acquired for a specific preliminary skill set, trained without mercy and taught to perform without fail.” The flat, dispassionate resonance of his voice left him sounding hardened.

I swallowed hard and held his gaze, watching his eyes burn a brighter orange. Fear skittered down my spine, its mouse-like feet both softly padded and wickedly tipped.

“Realize that I’ve had lifetimes, Dani, lifetimes to perfect what I am. And what I am is one of Sheol’s rarest agents.”

His fingers traced the back of my hand and I jerked away. The shovel fell to the packed earth with a muted clang. His hand shot forward and wrapped around the back of my neck, fingers gentle but persistent as they pressed against my skin, intimate and confusing. I closed my eyes to avoid looking at him but it was pointless. Cain overwhelmed my senses through that one point of contact. He stepped in and leaned down to breathe me in. My heart pounded as warmth spread through me, and I whipped my hands behind my back, my fear of being touched secondary to this new, overwhelming need to touch. Him. Only him. My back arched and my breath caught in my throat when the knuckles of his free hand grazed the side of my breast. His caress pulled arousal through my core and out the tips of my tightly pearled nipples.

Cain’s harsh breathing seemed to evidence his own response and left me to dimly wonder if he was as affected as I in that moment. Curiosity made me lean forward, my lips parted on shaky breath, and a deep sound of male satisfaction rolled through his chest.

I whispered his name. His heated grip tightened on my neck, branding me in a way I didn’t understand.

His lips fell to the soft indent below my earlobe, his breath a secondary brand all its own. When he kissed me there I shuddered, and when his tongue flicked out to trace my earlobe, my knees went weak.

“I’m a predatory incubus.”

CHAPTER THREE

I STRUGGLED TO PROCESS his words. He let go of my neck and I managed to stay steady through sheer force of will. If only my mental and emotional balances would come to heel. “The mara?” I asked calmly and with sickening clarity.

The smug bastard grinned. “She came to me for the same reason most do, Dani.” He leaned in close and tucked a loose hair behind my ear. Pride held me still. “You’ll find there’s none better trained at pleasure than I.” Cain pulled back, a self-satisfied look on his face. His eyes widened just before my fist made contact with his jaw, snapping his head back far enough that I knew the blow had hyperextended his neck, but not so far I worried he wouldn’t heal. Eventually.

Humiliation bloomed through my chest as fury choked me. “I hope I never find out,” I said loudly, backing down the alley and shaking out my aching hand. I turned and sprinted for daylight, interested only in putting distance between us.

“I WON’T WORK WITH him, Khavien,” I ground out between clenched teeth. The ice pack I’d snagged slipped to the side as I paced. Catching it, I pressed it against my bruised knuckles with a hiss. “Doesn’t this constitute sexual harassment?”

“You know that law only covers norms.” K leaned back in his chair, the picture of nonchalance. His boots rested on the edge of the desk, hands were linked over lean abs and blue eyes were mere slits behind lids that sat at half-mast. He gestured lazily to a chair and I sat. “Ice pack helping?”

I nodded in answer. A deep breath helped me gather myself but it didn’t stop my arms and legs from trembling. The vibrations were small enough most people wouldn’t notice. Khavien did. The arousal that still tainted the air mortified me. No help for it until I could grab a shower.

The door flew open with a bang. The dhampir was up, weapons drawn from below his desk in one smooth move—I’d have to remember those were there—as he moved toward the threat. When Cain stepped in, Khavien lowered the short blade but kept the gun trained on the demon.

I’d popped Cain a good one, truly, and I wasn’t above gloating at the bruise on his chin. It was all the other bruises decorating his topography that shocked me.

“Holy Sheol, Dani, you beat the guy to a bloody pulp!” Khavien couldn’t control his laughter, even in the face of the demon’s anger. Yeah, that probably wasn’t the best response.

Cain growled, low and vicious.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

Still chuckling, Khavien strolled back to his desk and took his seat. He slipped the blade back under his desk but settled the gun within easy reach.

“She,” Cain waved a hand dismissively at me, “didn’t do this. Your man Tipton, however, saw what happened and took offense on Dani’s behalf. Not wanting to owe recompense for his death, I let him beat on me a bit before I took him out.”

I shot to my feet, terror and rage warring for the right of predominant emotion. Before the internal fight was settled, K said, “Define ‘took him out.’ Use the words most likely to plead your case if you don’t want to be fined, or worse.”

“He’s propped against the haystack near the far end of the alley.” Cain dabbed at his torn lip with the back of his hand. “He’ll be fine when he comes around and has adequate time to heal. I suggest you keep him away from me.” He glared at me through narrowed eyes then spun to leave.

K’s voice was as cold as Cain’s had been hot. “Have a seat, demon. It seems we have several things to discuss.”

Cain stood in the doorway, his rigid back to the room.

Khavien’s voice chilled even further. “It’s not a request. Sit.”

The demon turned, his eyes again more orange than blue, his breathing heavier and his voice like an echo from a deep well. “You need to remember why I’m here. I won’t apologize for answering her question because it may play into finding the Key. She deserved to know.”

“As I said yesterday, I’m perfectly clear as to why you’re here. Regarding Dani, no apology’s required. Now sit.”

I sucked in air, warring to keep my cool. Self-preservation paired with a need to understand what was happening around me kept me silent and in my seat.

Jaw flexing as he moved with unnatural grace, Cain sank into the chair closest to Khavien.

The dhampir nodded once, a short jerk of his chin. “I have a replacement for Dani so I’d like you two to come in and give the crowds a run tonight.”

I glanced between the two men. “What, exactly, does that mean?”

“Simple. There’s tension between the two of you. I want it worked out before the first full weekend gets here and the big money’s walking the park.”

I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to snarl at him. It would do no good. “Fine.” I stood and turned to leave. “Just remember your own fortune, Khavien. I wasn’t kidding.”

I was almost to the door when I heard him whisper, “I know.”

I DIDN’T HAVE TIME to do much other than grab a shower, partially dry my hair and put on clean clothes before Cain knocked on my door. The night air held the promise of cooler temperatures, but the ground still radiated the heat of the day as I stepped outside.

The demon looked like sex personified in black leather pants that hugged his high, tight ass, a deep blue silk shirt unbuttoned to expose part of his chest, black boots and hair pulled back in some sort of formal knot. Most of his bruises had already healed. I cleared my throat and looked away, but not before he flashed a smile that said I’d been busted checking him out. The inclination to compliment his appearance died an instant, fiery death.

We headed toward the tents that dotted the big top’s peripheral landscape.

“You changing when you get to work?” he asked, acting as though nothing had passed between us earlier.

Fine. I could play it that way. “Why would I?”

Cain glanced at me, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Finally unable to hold it back any longer, he tipped his head back and laughed—a deep, full-bodied sound that drew attention as we walked along.

“What?”

Still grinning, he shook his head. “Khavien’s going to shit a brick, Dani.”

Genuinely confused, I risked a glance up. He paid no attention, instead scanning faces in the crowd as we walked. “Why?”

“I’m no expert here, but I’d imagine customers will come in expecting a totally different experience inside the tent than they do outside. I mean, you’re a fortune teller. It’s part of the show. They’ll expect you to be mysterious, exotic, out of reach.”

“Trust me,” I sighed, “I do out of reach really well.”

Cain grabbed my elbow and pulled me to a stop.

“Don’t touch me,” I spat, yanking free of his grasp.

He let go but continued to stare down at me. “Why do you do out of reach so well? You said you don’t screw around and this morning convinced me you weren’t lying.” He unconsciously reached up and rubbed his jaw. “Why do you shut people out so hard?” His questions were so sincere that I started to answer him without considering the consequences.

“It’s just that I haven’t wanted to…there’s a lot of risk and…I don’t know if I could control it.” Humiliation washed over me and the demon took my arm, tightening his hold when I tried futilely to extricate myself. His hand heated up. I set my jaw and lifted my chin, ready to ring the bell for Round Two. The look on his face stopped me.

Cain’s heavily lidded eyes couldn’t hide the orange that glowed stronger in his irises. “This morning was nothing, Dani. You need to trust me, angel. Let me have the control.”

Heat pooled between my thighs and I gasped. A fine sweat broke out all over my body, my nipples pebbled and I wanted nothing more than to rub up against Cain like a cat. He slipped his other hand around my ribs, letting it drift down to lightly rest in the hollow of my back, pulling me closer. My head fell back and I gazed up at him, befuddled. This was so much more intense, more focused, than what had happened this morning.

“See? You can get there.”

Get there? Did he think I was frigid? I leaned away. “Cain, it’s not what you think.” My words were far away. It seemed like there was something important in them. “It’s not that I can’t get there,” I started to explain. It was then that he brought his lips nearly to mine, exhaling across my skin. My thoughts scattered.

The intense heat of his breath licked over my lips like wildfire. As much as I wanted him to, he didn’t stop and linger. Instead, Cain traced his nose along my jaw, whispering my name and small words of encouragement across my skin over, never pausing. Gentle pressure pulled me closer to him as he dipped me, his lips resting in the hollow of my throat, his thigh insinuating itself between mine. If panties could spontaneously combust, mine were on the brink of turning to ash.

“See, doll? I was right. You can.” The smile in his voice pulled an answering smile out of me while I tried desperately to remember why I didn’t want this. “I think you should call in sick tonight—give me a chance to take you to heaven, Dani.”

The roar of carnival sounds washed over me, including the snickering of people moving past us. I hooked my forearms around his neck, careful to keep my palms turned away from his bare skin. He murmured his approval. I lifted up into him so he had to shift his weight back onto his heels or risk both of us toppling over. The minute he moved, I whipped my knee up between his legs and scored a direct hit. Bastard would floss with his pubic hair for a week. We hit the ground and I made short work of extricating myself from him. Neither a coward nor a fool, I knew getting away from Cain before he recovered was in my best interest. I sprinted toward the row of tents where I expected to find my new office: Ticket Takers’ Alley.

Khavien stepped out of a black and purple striped tent at the same time I rounded the corner, struggling to keep my feet under me on the wood-chipped path. A small line of customers had already formed, but that didn’t stop me from dashing inside like the Hounds of Hell were snapping at my heels.

“You’re late.” K followed me inside. The look on his face translated to “pissed off” no matter which language I used.

“I had a, uh, large complication.” Large and angry.

The tent flap was thrown back and Cain stormed inside. His skin was ashen, punctuated by high bright spots on his cheeks. The tent door slapped closed at his back before he bent over and parked his hands on his knees. “What the fuck was that for?” It was obvious he wanted to bellow, but a gasp counted as success while he fought for breath.

“What happened?” K asked, clearly indifferent to the rage boiling around us.

“Tell your cloven-hoofed monkey to keep his manipulative paws to himself,” I spat.

“Oh I’ll keep my paws to myself, trust me. But you need to stop projecting unsatisfied lust everywhere you go!” He’d found his voice.

“Me?” Not to be outdone, I raised my voice too. “You’re the one who put your hands on me after influencing my emotions. Not once, but twice! Push for three and I’ll make sure you truly suffer, demon.”

“Your body was literally crying to be touched twice.” His voice shook. “You’re like a curse. I don’t need this shit. I need to do the job and get gone—no complications.”

“I’m only reflecting what you project. Trust me,” I muttered, looking away from him, “it’s nothing akin to genuine interest.” My shoulders itched and I rubbed them against the back of a tent pole, but it wasn’t enough. What I wouldn’t give for one of those old-fashioned back scratchers. The thought made me groan. I moved to stand in front of K and hunched my shoulders in front of him. “Scratch my back, would you?”

“Careful, K, she’ll knee you in the saddlebags just for touching her.”

“Saddlebags?” I’d never heard the term before.

Cain framed his crotch with a thumb and forefinger from each hand. “Some of us are hung like a—”

“Got it!” I yelled.

“The itch or the reference to the size of his—”

“Both. Thanks, K.”

The men chuckled, Khavien over his anger that I was late and Cain just happy He could stand up straight. The demon moved to step outside the tent for some crowd management but paused to say, “Touch me again, angel, and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.”

The flap fell shut again and K turned his attention back to me. “Angel?” His eyes narrowed as he took me in.

“Don’t get excited. It’s a stupid nickname he refuses to let go of because it irritates me.”

He opened his mouth to say something then shut it sharply, nostrils flaring. He considered me carefully before asking in a tight voice, “Where’s your costume?”

“What costume?” I asked. “You never said I had to dress up so I just wore what I had.”

“Son of a bitch, Dani! You can’t tell people’s fortunes in your shit kickers and a T-shirt!” He roared the last and Cain’s muffled voice said something that made the crowd laugh. “Do you have anything you can change into? A dress, even?”

“I’ll take an advance on my salary to go into the city and get something more appropriate tomorrow.” Pride allowed me to differentiate between an advance and a loan. Barely. But I refused to dig into the little I’d been able to save to buy clothes I’d never wear again outside of this tent.

Khavien closed his eyes, took a deep breath and said, “If you can get Cain to take you to the city tomorrow, you can have the day off to shop. I’ll front the money for your uniforms.” His eyes opened gradually and gave me a hard look that I couldn’t interpret.

Before I had the chance to ask, the tent flap peeled back and Cain stuck his head inside. “People are getting unhappy with the wait. Several have already split.”

“Unhappy people don’t spend money, so get to it.” K paused at the tent door, spoke to Cain, and left.

A MIGRAINE-INFLUENCED HAZE colored visitors as they moved through my tent. It started somewhere around the fifteenth client and dug its claw deeper and deeper into my brain with each new face that passed through my tunneled vision. I wanted to weep. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to kick my own ass for the sense of honor and obligation that kept me in that forsaken chair. Had I not given him my word, I could have found a way out. But I’d promised to try. I groaned and massaged my temples. My honor was going to get me killed someday.

The first several clients had been understandably pissed when I laid the backs of my hands against their own and made inane, inaccurate predictions about their lives. When the last client stormed out with her much older husband, whom I’d referred to as her father, Cain stuck his head in the doorway.

“You’ve got about ten people in line. Hold it together.” His dismissive tone infuriated me.

“You do your job, I’ll do mine.”

“Then do it.” He stepped back outside and effectively shut the door in the face of my response.

The next person to step inside, a woman in her thirties, clearly didn’t expect much when she sat at the table. You can do this, Dani. Suck it up and control the outcome. Without a word I grabbed her damp, loose hands and pulled them to me. She shifted, pulling against me. I gripped her hands harder and mentally pushed with intent. When the sounds of the Fair started to fade out, I nearly panicked. I managed to recover as darkness claimed my consciousness.

She wore a wedding dress, a slender of ivory silk. A handsome man stood at the end of the church aisle and waited for her. An older woman—her mother?—sat in a front pew and cried as the bride’s brother gave her away. Grief over her loss was raw, lamentable. The regret over her father’s passing, that he’d missed this day, would haunt her and she resented the fact that death stole her joy.

I snapped back into myself without any warning, gasping for air as if I’d forgotten to breathe. “Listen to me,” I said softly. She nodded and I squeezed her hands, the telltale bump of an engagement ring and the pounding of her pulse confirming her future and cementing my reality. “You’re getting married.”

She pursed her lips, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “I’ve got a ring. You’re the best they could do for a fortune teller?” She started to get up but I yanked on her hands.

“You’re going to get married next spring. Your brother is going to give you away because your father…” I couldn’t find the right words that would make right in any way what I was about to say.

The woman grasped my hands hard enough to grind bones together.

I let her.

“What about my father?” she pleaded, shifting from contemptuous doubter to frantic believer based on the fate of her father. For the briefest moment, I envied her the fact she had a not just a biological father but an emotionally invested dad, a man she knew would never leave her by choice.

I swallowed and looked down, closed my eyes. They began to burn. You’ve got to be kidding. If I start crying every time I tell a fortune, I’ll be spending a lot of time in tears. Without lifting my head, I squeezed her hands back and said, “He’s either going to get ill or he already is. Regardless, he won’t make it that long. If you’re sure about the guy, you need to move the date up.”

“How soon?”

“Soon.” The burn in my eyes dissipated and I looked up, met her eyes. “I’d say to make it a Thanksgiving wedding so you can have one last family Christmas together.”

She nodded quickly, her vision blurred by tears, and reached for her purse. Trembling hands fumbled through her wallet.

“There’s no need,” I said gently.

“Please.” Her voice filled with grateful despair. She dropped a crisp fifty on the table before rushing out.

Cain stuck his head inside and asked, “What did you do—tell her that her cat was going to die?”

I glared at him. “No. I told her she’d lose her dad before her wedding so she needed to move it up.”

He stepped all the way inside the tent, the flap falling shut behind him with a dull thwhap. “I didn’t know.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “Didn’t know what? That I was the real deal?” I rubbed my eyes. “Trust me, Cain. I wish it was anything other than what it is.”

“What, exactly, is it, angel?” He moved farther into the tent, closing the distance between us.

My grim grin was my answer.

“Well, if you’re the real deal, I might pay you to tell my fortune. I need to know how this latest project’s going to go down.”

“Doesn’t work that way,” I mumbled. “If I can tell you how it goes down, there’s no happy ending. See, I don’t tell futures unless death’s involved.”

Cain’s eyes narrowed. “Always?”

I nodded, regretting the movement as my headache seemed to batter the inside of my skull.

The flap peeled back and a large man said, “You done in here? I been waitin’ fer more’n ten minutes.”

I nodded and Cain left silently. Somehow the absence of his barbed banter made me feel worse.

THEY CAME THROUGH THE tent one after another, and for each one I delivered some version of their future as it related to death. I didn’t speak to anyone beyond delivering their fortune. It was just easier. That way I didn’t form any connection to the people whose lives I’d enhance or destroy based on truths I could neither influence nor control. Keeping every interaction impersonal let me maintain the illusion of distance I needed from the inexplicable intimacy I’d always felt with death.

Just when I thought I’d have to bow out and head back to the trailer, Cain called out, “Last call for your Freak’s Fortune!”

I pressed my fingers against my eyes. We’d have to talk about the name of this involuntary enterprise, but that would come later. My head was so heavy that it only seemed logical to rest it on my arms for a minute. And it made even more sense if my arms were supported by the table. And it would be even better if my eyes were closed.

“Dani?” Cain’s voice whispered into my ear. “Angel?”

His hair was so soft.

“You’re going to have to stand up for just a second, sweetheart.”

Fingers dug in my pocket and I smiled, right up until he leaned me back against the cold metal of my trailer. I screeched like a…yeah, that comparison wasn’t even safe in my own mind.

Cain tensed and spun around, but we were alone. He turned back to me and arched a brow. “Let me explain something to you, Dani. Don’t ever, ever scream when a demon’s got his back turned. We’ll always assume trouble’s coming up behind us.”

“Same reason I screamed,” I said through an insuppressible, jaw-cracking yawn. “I opened my eyes and found trouble with his hand down my pants.” I stood up and stretched. “How did I get here?”

“You literally fell asleep at the table in the tent.” He shrugged. “I brought you back here since you’re my ward. Hand me the key?”

My headache had softened with the short nap. “Why didn’t you just wake me up and have me walk?” I dug my keys out and turned to open my trailer door.

“Khavien tried.”

I snorted and looked over my shoulder as I climbed the stairs. “You have him doing the dirty work? You treat me as if I’ll damage you if you startle me. You know what happened earlier was about more than being surprised.” He grunted and I laughed. “Scared of me now, demon?”

“I’d be smarter if I was. Women are the most dangerous creatures in any realm. Besides, I already took one for the team. I figured if you were going to maim someone, it was K’s turn.” He reached around the door and pulled the steps up. “I also like what I carry in my saddlebags well enough that I don’t want to risk having one ripped or torn.” He grimaced with sincerity. “It heals, but day-um. Ouch.”

I thought an apology might be in order, but his next words changed my mind.

“And Dani?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you want to ride the horse, all you’ve got to do is coax him along. Kneeing him like that? Not good for the ride at all.”

I growled in frustration and he started back for his trailer.

His voice called back to me from somewhere between his door and mine. “I’ll be here in the morning to take you in to the city so we can pick up the material for your costumes.”

“I never would have agreed to this if anyone had said anything about costumes,” I muttered.

“I would have mentioned it but you only gave me fifteen minutes.” He chuckled. “See you in the morning. Be ready by nine. I’ll drive.”

I sputtered back to life and leaned out to grab the door. It gave me the opportunity to watch him strut up to his trailer, his doorway lit by a small porch light.

He dug his own keys out before he looked back at me. “Were you checking out my ass?” The undisguised humor in his words startled me into answering.

“It’s a nice ass,” I said so softly I didn’t think he’d hear me.

His grin widened and he held out his arms and did a slow, complete turn. “If you think I make clothes look good, you should see what I do for a set of silk sheets.”

I slammed my door on his laughter but couldn’t deny the small smile that pulled at the edges of my mouth. It was short-lived, though, when I thought of the serious implications of flirting with intent. I’d have to put an end to it.

Tomorrow would be soon enough.

MY HAIR PROTESTED THE lingering humidity from my morning shower by curling more than normal.

At exactly 9:00, Cain rapped on the trailer door with enough force to flex the frame. “Let’s go, Dani.”

“Two seconds.”

“You can cross your whole trailer in two seconds. Hurry up.”

A variety of smartass remarks flitted through my brain before I decided that I’d best open the door before he called me—

“Good morning, angel,” he drawled as he stepped outside the arc of the swinging door. He held a large cup of coffee from Holy Grounds, the Fair’s elitist coffee shop run by cherubs. Their coffee was by far and away the best in the area but it came dear. Most visitors were willing to pay extra for the experience, but I couldn’t care less about the little shits that ran the place. The imps were much less attractive when you knew they had to shave twice a day to keep the smooth skin, liked to nip the bottle on the clock, owed their bookies more than I made in six months and used their diminutive size to look up women’s skirts. It was no wonder Malkuth had seen fit to kick them out.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, stepping back from the entrance. “Let me just grab my sneakers and we can get out of here.”

“Don’t you want breakfast?” he asked as he rattled a paper bag that already had grease-stained pock marks all around the bottom. “I had mine but it was good enough I wouldn’t mind eating another.” He arched a brow.

“What is it?”

“Do you always check the teeth of every gift horse?” he snarked, hoisting himself up into the trailer despite the lack of steps.

“Shoes! Off!” I yelled. “I did my floors earlier.”

“You need to relax.” He dropped the bag on the table and stepped over to my bed, sinking down and reclining on his elbows, shoes still firmly on his feet. “You can have the table this morning.”

My mouth was so cottony I could have knitted a sweater straight out of it. He was the first man ever in—or on—my bed, and this man happened to be sex personified. His eyes assessed me hungrily as they took the scenic route up the front of my body before they finally locked on my own. I knew for certain he could tell what I’d been thinking. It involved him rubbing more than my feet. Cain grinned lopsidedly and lifted one foot up on the edge of the bed, letting that leg fall to the side and shift his hips up. My eyes fell to his groin before I could stop myself. I looked away.

“Dani?” His voice was a dark promise.

I shook my head. No way, girl.

“Dani, look at me.” His voice was deep and smooth with the barest hint of an accent I couldn’t place. I caved and looked up. He unloaded that slow, dimpled smile. “Let me assure you that I am more than capable of doing every…single…little…thing you desire. And not only am I capable, I’m entirely willing.”

“Yeah?” I said on a husky breath, cocking a hip and running my hand down my side.

His eyes followed my hand down past my ribs to my waist and across to the button on my jeans. “Oh, yeah.”

“Promise?”

“Mmhmm.”

My hand fell from my pants and I stood up straight. “Great. When I need the roof on my trailer replaced, I’ll remind you that you promised me you were entirely capable.” I swiped the grease-stained bag off the table and pitched it to him. “For now you can get your filthy foot off my bed and wait for me outside.”

Without a word he stood up and moved for the door, brushing past me to avoid running into the frosted globe on the ceiling light. “There will come a day, Dani, when you’ll want more than roof work from me.”

“I’m absolutely sure you’re right. And hey, if you’re willing to do my laundry without turning my whites pink, you’re on, big guy.”

He barked out a laugh and hopped down from my doorway, his boots stirring up a small cloud of dust. “Be at my trailer in ten. I don’t want to spend all day in the city. I’ve got more important things to do than help you shop.” He sauntered away.

Curiosity got the better of me and I called out to him before I could stop myself. “Hey! What was in the bag?”

He never stopped walking, just held it up and shook it. “A chocolate éclair.”

“How did you know what I’d want?”

He paused, turned back to me and tilted his head, considering. Finally he shrugged. “I told you, Dani. Every. Desire.” He grinned but it didn’t reach his eyes. “See you in ten.” He glanced down at his watch then called back, “Make that seven.”

“Asshat,” I muttered, and I swear I heard him chuckle.

CHAPTER FOUR

CAIN DROVE AN ALL black BMW 650 coupe with tinted windows and a vanity plate that read “UWANTME.” He surprised me by opening my door. I slid into the plush interior of a car that easily cost several times more than my trailer, all its contents, and my last forty-eight paychecks combined. Cain folded himself into the driver’s seat and pushed the ‘Start’ button, the engine coming to life with a sexy, vicious purr. The computer lit up, a digitized female voice asking if he’d like to begin navigation. It was ridiculous, really, but the car intimidated me.

“How do you get your trailer around?” I blurted out.

He glanced over at me then away as he deftly maneuvered the car through the parking lot, before pulling out onto the adjacent highway. “I have a heavy duty truck. How do you move yours?” He scooted further down in his seat and settled sunglasses on his face.

I shrugged.

“Dani?”

“I have one of the tumblers pull it. They’ve got an extra truck.” Heat crept up my face and colored my cheeks, and I was disturbed to find myself embarrassed about my financial situation for the first time in my life. I looked away, hoping for a semi-private second to compose myself.

“There’s no shame in what you do or how you do it, Dani. The material stuff is just stuff.” His hands gripped the wheel tighter and his knuckles stood out in stark relief to his suntanned hands. “I’ve had nothing to my name and riches galore. Neither one means shit.” He ground his teeth, took a deep breath, and forcibly relaxed his hold on the wheel. “It’s all about figuring out what’s most important to you then doing what you have to do to get it.”

“Doing what you have to do to get it, huh?” I shifted my stare straight ahead, chewing on my bottom lip and watching the landscape pass by in a blur of muted colors punctuated here and there by the ribbons of fall. “Is anything out of bounds when you ‘do what you have to do’?”

Cain kept his eyes on the road but his jaw tightened enough to knot the muscles behind his molars. He was silent long enough that I figured he wouldn’t answer me, so I was surprised when he said, “Not if you want it bad enough.”

The instantly intense conversation littered with ambiguous statements had taken my mind off the cost of the leather under my ass. The demon beside me was an enigma and further evidenced my need to be wary of him despite my curiosity. Curiosity killed the cat, my subconscious whispered. “But I’m not a cat,” I whispered back.

“What the hell do cats have to do with anything?” Cain asked, his brows drawn down in confusion.

I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. “Nothing, demon. Forget I said anything.”

“Fair enough.”

We sped through the haze of fog being rapidly consumed by another day of unseasonable warmth. After twenty minutes with no conversation he turned the CD player on, shuffling through the available selections before settling on an alternative sound I wasn’t familiar with.

“You know Ten Green Monkeys?”

I shook my head. “They sound good.”

“You should see them live.” He rubbed his forehead with one hand while flexing his grip on the wheel with the other. Twice he opened his mouth and closed it, the last time giving a small shake of the head.

I shifted up on my hip and faced him. “Look. Clearly you want to ask me something. That or you’re suffering some sort of demonic seizure of the mouth that strikes you mute. Just ask. Or, I suppose you could make hand signals to indicate distress if you’re seizing on me.”

He looked over, arching a brow. “Seizing?”

“You’re a Specialty Demon. I don’t have a lot of experience with your kind.” I grinned. “I suppose, though, it could be an STD since you were doing a little clam digging with Ahallia.”

He snorted. “Sounds like you’re the one who’s got the question to ask.”

I shook my head. “I don’t eat clams.”

The car swerved when Cain burst out laughing. “I’ll remember that.” The CD player changed disks and a popular heavy metal band blared. He turned down the volume and said, “You’re right. I do have a couple of questions. I’m trying to decide if I you’re the right person to ask.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Long story.” He glanced over. “Tell me about your father.”

Every muscle in my body tightened as terror screamed through me. “If K wants to know more about my miserable childhood, he can ask himself. I’m not discussing this with you.” Working to control my breathing, I wrapped my arms around my middle and, closing my eyes, turned my face to the window.

“Hey.” Cain squeezed my knee and I pulled away. “This doesn’t have anything to do with K, angel. This is my own curiosity about you.” His hand slid slowly off the edge of my leg and my fists clenched. He must have noticed because he asked, “By the way, you throw a mean right hook. Where’d you learn to fight?”

I willed my fists to relax and turned to face him. Divert. Ask him questions. “You’re suddenly interested in me?” I let incredulity leak into my voice and I arched a brow at him, mimicking his familiar facial expression.

He shrugged, turning his attention back to the road. “We’re going to be working together. Despite what you think, it might be good to know a little about each other.”

I huffed. Keep it simple, keep it vague. “My childhood was uneventful. Nothing to discuss. I learned quickly that other kids would beat on you if you were a freak, or if you weren’t freaky enough. I never fit in so I had plenty of opportunities to develop that right hook.”

Cain never looked at me, though his lips tightened to a hard line through his face. “Kids can be cruel.”

“No, Cain. Anyone can be cruel.” My voice sounded small and I sighed before I went back to staring at the passing landscape.

Uncomfortable silence hung between us until he blurted out the most random question. “What do you know about the Key?”

“The Key?”

“Yeah. The kids’ story.”

“That’s not really why you’re here, is it? I thought you were joking.” I snorted, tension melting away under the guise of fables and fairytales. “Tell me you’re not hunting the Freaks’ Fable.” It was more a Fool’s Fable, one that lifetimes had been spent looking for in both history books and treasure hunts, but no evidence existed to prove it was real.

“Tell me what you know.” His voice was uncompromising.

“No need to get pissy. It’s a fable they tell at the puppet trailer every day. I’ve heard it so often that just this conversation makes me want to talk with my hands and act the damn thing out for you. The Key is the story of an object, blessed by the Holy, which is the primary means to open the stable doors to the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. This Key is neither good nor bad, but can be swayed, thus influencing both the horses and their riders free and controlling the Apocalypse. Whoever wields the Key controls the end of the world. It’s nothing more than a moral about good and evil and making the right choices.” I sat back in my seat and stretched my legs in front of me. “Why are you getting worked up about a children’s story?”

Cain shook his head. “I’ve seen the show. What do you know about the Key itself? Do you have any idea what the Key is?”

“No one knows. It’s a story, Cain. A fable. You know, fable, as in made the hell up. And if you’ve seen the puppet show, you know as much as I do about the story.” His intensity was starting to freak me out. But at least he’s not asking about me. I’d discuss the rise and fall of socialism in post-war Europe to keep the topic focused anywhere but here.

He shoved his glasses on his head and looked at me, eyes blazing. “That’s all you know? You’re sure?”

I shrugged. “I don’t even remember the first time I heard the story. If you were hired to find the Key, I’d have to say you’re on a wild goose chase. I hope you aren’t counting on the funds from this job for retirement.”

“You have no idea,” he muttered, sliding his glasses back on his face. He turned the radio up, effectively ending the conversation.

I settled back to enjoy the ride, the long-forgotten nursery rhyme repeating through my head.

I DIDN’T GET INTO the city very often. So, to have a free day to spend wandering the asphalt and concrete maze of retailers and interesting people was a tiny wish granted. I couldn’t wait to be truly anonymous, one of the tens of thousands wandering the boulevards and avenues at any given moment. The idea made me smile, the expression reflected back to me in the car’s window.

Granted, the day wasn’t totally free since I was shopping for work and spending it in the company of a creature I didn’t know very well and wasn’t sure I liked much at all. Likewise, though, I didn’t have to shovel crap into wheelbarrows or choke on straw dust or avoid the curious stares of the Fair-goers. It really was a win, company notwithstanding. I used every opportunity I could to glance discreetly at the demon in the driver’s seat. His eyes were still hidden by dark wrap-around sunglasses, lending him the sinister air he’d lacked until now. Yes, he’d manhandled me, but there had been a level of playfulness about him. That had gradually dissolved beginning with the conversation about the Key, escalating the further we got from the Fair. As we moved into the periphery of glass and steel high rises, I salted my observations of him with those of the norms and freaks occupying every corner. I thought I’d been the epitome of stealth until Cain punched the stereo’s volume down, whipped the glasses off, and turned to glare at me.

“What?” His voice had lost its smooth quality. “Is there something I can do for you?” He didn’t even give me an opportunity to answer before he turned his attention back to the snarl of traffic. I would have bought into the silence except for the fact that his fingers drummed out a rapid beat on the steering wheel and his jaw rolled as he ground his teeth.

A small warning bell chimed and the nav system’s computerized voice announced, “Your destination is two-hundred feet ahead on the left.”

Without any warning, Cain yanked the wheel to the left and shot across traffic. Tires squealed and brakes locked up, angry voices trumpeting in our wake. He didn’t even look back. The demon leaned on the gas pedal and the car rocketed forward, climbing a fast, tight spiral to the upper deck of a parking garage. The constant in and out of shadows was as disorienting as my companion, and I was temporarily blinded by the sun’s glare when we shot out onto the roof deck. He pulled into a parking spot and stopped hard enough to throw me into the tightened seatbelt.

“What’s your problem?” I yelled, my eyes watering as they adjusted to the light.

“You’re bugging the shit out of me with those covert looks.” He grabbed the headrest and thumped his head against it.

I narrowed my eyes, my jaw clenched so tight I didn’t know if I could force it open to speak.

“Forget it. My bad. Let’s go.” He unfolded his large frame from the car and started across the parking garage’s top floor.

Fumbling with the seatbelt, I managed to get free and ran to catch up with him as his long strides ate up the ground. “Hey!” I yelled. “Damn it, stop!”

“Keep up.” His voice sounded warped, like a record slowed down and his image wavered, mirage-like in the sunlight.

“What’s with the Jekyll and Hyde routine?” I demanded when I caught up with him. I thumped his arm with the back of my hand, palms protected by fingers curled to fists, trying to get him to stop and face me. “First you try to swan dive into my pants and now you act like you’d just as soon toss me over the railing.”

He spun around and ripped his glasses off, glaring down at me. His eyes had taken on an eerie orange backlight, the bones of his face shifting under his skin until he wasn’t recognizable. “You don’t know the half of it, angel.” He took a deep breath and I caught a glimpse of his eyes blazing before he slid his glasses back in place. “Keep up.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Really?” He stopped and turned to face me, grinning. “Trust me when I tell you I’ll be the one bringing you home, my little lamb of light.”

Time stopped. Nothing moved. Sound died. “What did you just call me?” I asked on a single breath.

Fury seemed to seep from his pores as he stepped toward me with malice.

Reality roared over me and I blinked hard to clear my vision, the world tilting hard to the right.

He reached out and grasped my elbow to steady me.

I jerked out of his grasp and stumbled backward. “What did you just call me?”

“Uh, Dani?” Cain slid his sunglasses up on his head and his eyes were their increasingly familiar orange-flecked blue. “What do you think I called you?”

Shaking my head, it was impossible to believe I’d imagine the whole sequence of events. I hadn’t, had I? “Did you yell at me to keep up? That you’d be the one to take me home?”

His brows furrowed. “The last thing I said to you was that you were driving me crazy, but I didn’t yell at you.” He raked his hands through his hair. “Is it possible for you to get heatstroke in seconds? I know some of the exotics are prone to some strange shit,” he mumbled. “I should probably call K.”

“No!” I shouted. My eyes scoured his face for every detail, for any possible tell, but he remained neutral. “D-don’t.” I wiped a shaking hand over my sweaty forehead and tried to think. “Just tell me—did you call me your lamb?” Only one person had called me his little lamb of light. My father. The father I hadn’t seen in twenty-one years. The father who had abandoned me.

“Lamb? As in chop? No. We’re not exactly at the point we’ve developed pet names for each other, and I doubt we ever get there.” Arms crossed his wide chest, irritation laced his voice and his mouth turned down at the corners.

This was the demon I knew, and familiarity lent a strange sense of comfort. Where had the illusion come from? I was caught up in my own mental wanderings and I missed his intent when he reached for me.

“Let’s get a move on—” He took my hand and the sun was obliterated, leaving a darkness filled with choking brimstone and screams and sounds of sheer terror that made my breath hang up in my chest while my bowels loosened. I gasped, squinted, tried to look beyond the darkness but it was everywhere. The heft of sulfurous fumes choked me and I clawed at my throat. Blazing fingers skated down my spine and fear pooled at its base. Air shifted around me as something large moved nearby. I froze. Someone was behind me. I instinctively shied away from him but not before he leaned in and said, “Welcome home.” The truth cracked like a rifle shot and I knew with unmitigated clarity that I was going to die, Sheol waited with open arms and it was my father who would take me there.

We sat at a booth in the far corner of the Italian restaurant across the street from the parking garage. The pungent smell of garlic and yeast would cling to our clothes long after we left but, for now, the darkened corner afforded me privacy. I’d lost it on the roof deck after I came to, sinking to my knees while I relearned how to breathe.

Cain had squatted down next to me, though his eyes never stopped roving, looking for threats. “You okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m grand,” I had answered in a flat monotone. “I’m so ‘fine’ that I wish I could live that moment over and over again in my head.” Trouble was, I imagined I’d do just that for a long, long time.

He’d drawn me up and, avoiding direct skin contact, hauled me down the elevator, across the street, straight into the dim restaurant. The waitress stared at him like she wanted as big a bite of his cannoli as she could muster, and I mentally wished her well with him.

“What have you done to me?” My throat was so dry I sounded like I had a two-pack-a-day habit.

“Done to you?” He looked confused. “Why do you think this is something I’ve done to you?”

“Sheol came calling today. That’s never happened. And that’s not all. My typically sporadic ‘gift’ has been operating in overdrive. The only thing that’s changed in my life is you.” I arched a brow and dared him to disagree with me. He was silent. “You’ve done something and I want to know what it is.”

Cain leaned back in his seat and leveled a hard gaze at me. “I haven’t done anything to you. I didn’t show up with you in mind. I told you—I hit on some hard times and needed a job when I got here while I hunted for the Key. The Freaks’ Fair was available and could put my skills to use.”

I snorted. “We’ve been over this. You live in luxury for a fifth-wheel camper, own a new truck to pull it and drive an $85,000 car. Add it all up and it just screams, ‘I need a job at the Fair’ in the worst way.” I moved to stand and he shot to his feet.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going to suck it up and call K for a ride home. I don’t think this is possible, us working together.”

He grabbed for me and I moved in time to save my hands, but he still caught my arm. Skin to skin, I flinched. Nothing happened. I opened my eyes and stared at him for the briefest second before I yanked my arm free with enough force I slapped the booth behind me. My temper began to build. “You don’t touch me. Not now, not ever. And you don’t ever grab for either of my hands again. I’m off limits,” I ground out between clenched teeth.

“I didn’t do anything to you. I think whatever happened up there was of your own doing, and you’re not taking responsibility.” He pointed imperiously to the booth. “Sit down.”

I flipped him off.

“Sit down before I sit you down,” he growled.

“Try it.” I looked around, realizing we’d drawn the attention of other diners. “Let’s go.”

Cain pulled out a few singles to cover our drinks and we turned in unison, heading for the doors.

It was with a strong sense of déjà vu that I found myself exiting the dark to be blinded by the light. We walked down the sidewalk without touching or speaking. He stopped when I stopped, and I took advantage of the time to window shop and get myself under control. We walked several blocks before he motioned to a shop with a variety of bolted fabrics racked just outside the sun’s reach. There was a cool black awning with white pipe trim and grey lettering identifying it as Witches & Stitches Custom Creations.

“Seriously? I couldn’t just have gone to SaveRite and bought some scrubs? I could have Bedazzled them and save a shit-ton of money.”

“According to Khavien, no. I was very clearly instructed to get you through these errands today and, Sheol save me, that’s what we’re going to do. I want it over and done with as badly as you do. I’ve got other shit to do besides babysit you, so get moving.” His eyes were cold. “Inside.”

“You need a mood ring. It’s the only hope I have of determining whether you’re more likely to hump my leg or bully me.” That earned me a hard look through narrowed eyes but no reply.

Bells tinkled when he shoved the door open and we stepped inside. Spicy incense burned and soothing music played from hidden speakers. I wandered around the shop, admiring the different textures and colors of material with no idea what I was supposed to do. I didn’t see any denim or simple cotton, but a lovely maroon silk caught my eye. I’d never owned anything so lush in all my life. I was about to pick up the price tag out of sheer curiosity when Cain lifted the entire bolt off the rack with ease.

“Price is irrelevant.” He dropped the bolt on the long work counter and turned back to me. “Pick another one.”

“Price isn’t irrelevant when it’s my money,” I hissed, glancing around the store to make sure no one was near enough to hear. There were two other patrons inside and one woman behind the counter, all of whom were studiously avoiding looking at me while trying to catch Cain’s eye.

“Khavien specifically told me to make sure you got good clothes here.”

“You really are his grinder monkey.” Cain might have ignored my jab but I couldn’t help but feel a bit self-satisfied at the tightening of skin at the corners of his eyes, his pinched nostrils and thinned lips.

“Khavien called the owner and said to expect us. Besides, he’s paying for this round of shit anyway. We’ll buy a bunch of stuff, then head down the street to get your makeup.” He stretched and popped his neck then shrugged. “Then we’ll try lunch again.” We stared at each other, neither giving an inch. A low growl rippled from his throat and his upper lip peeled away in an inhuman snarl. “It’s probably in your best interest to recall I’m a demon, Dani, and nobody’s ‘grinder monkey.’”

“Sure thing, Bubbles. You’re the only one I’ve ever met who got a hall pass directly out of…Sheol.” Something bugged me about that. “What exactly did you have to do, or promise to do, for Sheol to let you go?”

Cain sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Pick out a few pretty colors so we can move on, would you? It’s fabric, not a life-long commitment.” He stepped back and locked his hands behind his back, his eyes alert as they swept the store front to back to front again. I muttered in frustration and felt the air move as he leaned toward me to whisper, “I can hear you, you know.”

“Hear this, asshat,” I hissed. “I’ll buy my own stuff.” I picked out a few more colors and textures I liked but every time I reached for the price that was pinned to the material, Cain yanked the bolt up and dropped it on the counter.

When there were about a half dozen bolts on the counter, he went to the woman at the counter and flirted outrageously, touching her hand before brushing the hair from her forehead. His actions bespoke familiarity.

“Dani?” he called out without turning around. “This is Amber. Her dad owns the place.” Need was interwoven through Cain’s voice. He said something softly to Amber before I could get close enough to hear and she smiled and nodded.

“Dani?” she asked.

I wanted to bang my head against the wall. Yes, Dani was, in fact, my name. Instead what I said was, “Uh huh?”

“I’ll need to measure you for your costumes.”

Cain laid a hand over Amber’s hand before he turned to me, his eyes lit with more orange than before. It was a rude shock to realize this was his reaction to women in general. What had happened with me at the fair was apparently no different than it was with anyone else.

“Take good care of her, Amber.” His voice was an indulgence when it hit this low.

I followed Amber to a back room.

She rounded on me, her eyes cold and hands flexing as she clearly imagined clawing deep furrows in my face. “Stay away from him.” Her voice dropped from a pleasantly deep, sexy drawl to a rumbling growl. Menace poured off of her like excess lighter fluid on a charcoal grill and stunk up the air in the claustrophobic dressing room.

My hands went out in front of me in an offer of good will. “He’s all yours.”

“Give me your measurements.”

Panic clouded my mind. This was Khavien’s money. If I screwed it up he’d accuse me of doing it to get out of work, and the Host of Malkuth knew I couldn’t afford to replace the fabrics Cain had thoughtlessly tossed around on my behalf. She could be as crazy as she wanted to be, but she wasn’t screwing me over.

“No way.” My ponytail bounced as I shook my head. “Just take them fast and I’ll be out of your hair.” Pulling my shirt off, I offered to let her measure me around the rib cage right below the bra band and slid the waistband of my pants down for her to have access to my waist. My hips? She could wing it.

Her movements were efficient as she put everything together. “I’ll come up with some good costumes. I mean it, though. Stay away from Cain.” She leaned in and licked the salty sweat from my back before I could pull my shirt back on. She had to be an Oceanic Water Sprite. Fantastic. They were known for being slightly insane, fiercely territorial and unapologetic carnivores—the type who took down their prey and feasted sans knife, fork or cooking fire.

I crashed forward, pulling the silk curtain off the rod and yanking my shirt over my head. “You need to see someone about having your meds monitored more closely while you’re inland.” Cain’s voice was at my back as he talked to someone else…a deeper voice this time. The owner, maybe? I steered myself that way. “Seriously, if I knew you I’d be worried for you. As it is? I’m just worried.”

Amber was clearly considering taking a bite out of one of my extremities when I tripped through the swinging door and onto the shop floor.

“We’re done here,” I snapped, heading for the door.

“Thanks, Hugh!” Grabbing my arm he yanked me through it hard enough that my teeth clacked together.

Once we were outside he let me go and I stumbled before gaining my feet and rounding on him in fury. “I told you not to grab me. Ever.” I struggled to resituate myself. “And what in Sheol’s name led you to believe it was okay in any way to leave me with one of your lovers?”

“She’s not my, that is…” He closed his eyes and tried again. “Amber isn’t my lover.”

“Save it for confession, Cain.” The softness of my voice was lost in the melee of foot traffic, street vendors, shop owners, and more. “I need to have you neutered for the safety of women everywhere. I wonder if the Humane Society would give me that deal they offer adopters. It’s only something like $65, and you do keep ending up on my doorstep.”

“That’s not even funny,” he growled, then shook his head. “You can get your makeup at the drug store like everyone else. I think we’re done.” Taking a deep breath, he started down the street at a brisk pace. He’d get to the car before I did. I could either chase after him or hang out alone and make my way back there on my own time. The latter was incredibly tempting but childish. Instead, I compromised, walking after him at a reasonable pace, browsing window displays as I went and eventually losing sight of him.

The lunch hour rang out from a nearby bell tower, and the high-rise buildings belched uniformly suited corporate workers onto sidewalks like ants from an anthill. Concrete and asphalt reflected the afternoon heat. A street vendor selling chilled drinks caught my attention as I waited to cross the street, and I gave in to temptation. Then the pedestrian light changed and, swept up in foot traffic, it seemed I was nearly carried along in the mass of bodies. I was almost to the gutter on the opposite side when the roar of an accelerating engine broke through the din of the city’s heartbeat. The sounds of panicked motorists were punctuated by the shouts and screams of onlookers as the crowd scattered. I was buffeted about like a dollar bill in a washing machine, the crowd giving me a final shove forward that lifted me off my feet before it parted and dropped me ten feet from the curb.

I looked up and saw a dark car racing toward me and thought, Huh. Never figured I’d be taken out by an import.

It was the last thing I remembered.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE WHITE LIGHT MOVED toward my eyelids, turning everything a strange pinkish-red. I wondered why I didn’t open my eyes. If there was light, I’d defied the future and not ended up in Sheol. This was a red letter day I’d hate to miss because I kept my effing eyes closed. Wait. I wondered if I’d get in trouble for saying “eff” in Malkuth? For that matter, I wondered if I’d get in trouble for saying, well, most of what I said. Obviously ripe language hadn’t been a deal breaker with the Holy.

“Dani?”

My nose tickled and I wished I could scratch it. What had I been thinking?

“Dani? Can you hear me, angel?”

My eyes squinted open and I found myself staring into a pair of blue eyes flecked with brilliant orange. Well fuck. No need to worry about my language. I’d ended up in Sheol after all. Proof was leaning over me looking worried. My senses came back online all at once and I thought I’d gag on the noxious smell of exhaust. Heat made my clothes stick to my skin and sweat pool between my shoulder blades. A small crowd gathered around, staring at the near casualty. Me.

“Tell me someone got his license plate,” I groaned, sitting up. “I’d love to press charges.”

“I’ll not afford him the option of norm justice.” Cain twisted and looked down at his leg. “Crap. That’s gonna leave a mark.”

He had pulled his jean leg to the side and I thought, for a second, I’d lose the little bit of breakfast still in my stomach. The bumper had clearly caught his leg, splitting it down to the muscle. I scrambled to my knees to get a better look, but Cain dropped the torn denim and pushed himself to standing.

“Nothing to see, folks. She’s fine.” He scanned the crowd, his gaze finally settling on me. “Can you walk?”

My head nearly exploded as I started to nod. Grasping it, I said, “Yeah,” then looked up and met his gaze. “Why’d someone try to run me down?”

“Save it for the car. We can talk there.” He offered a hand but I ignored it, pushing myself to my feet. I followed when he limped away, ignoring the rumbling of the crowd of curious norms and mainstreaming freaks.

Sirens could be heard in the distance, and I found myself relieved to be leaving the scene of a near violent crime.

Mine.

THE WALK BACK TO the car passed in swirling eddies of time; some were lazy while others were speeding vortexes combining thought, color and emotion, overlapping sounds and smells until it was all a confused mess. The car itself seemed to be on the twenty-fifth floor of a twelve-story building. The elevator would only take us up to the eighth floor so we had to hoof it the rest of the way.

Cain went straight for the car but I slowed down, looking around me. It took me a while to figure out what was wrong. The dark car roared toward me in my memory and I realized that with Cain and I separated, he could have been the driver. Why in the world would he want me dead? I was nothing to him. It was all a stretch, and I couldn’t figure out how he would’ve been injured, but the doubt had been cast.

I stopped, shifting nervously foot to foot, and tried to decide whether to just ask him or run. The knowledge that I wasn’t equipped to protect myself against him scared me, and my earlier vision of Sheol crashed into my memory with physical force.

He was already at my door, beeping the car open, when he realized I wasn’t with him. The stairwell door was lockable and I’d hesitated there when suspicion grabbed me by the throat. Cain pinched the bridge of his nose for the second time today and I watched his chest heave in and out with air.

“What is it now, Dani?”

I opened and closed my mouth like a landed trout, unsure what to say. He started toward me and I panicked. I slipped through the door, slammed the lock into place and pounded down the stairs as fast as I could go, my brain convulsing with each hard step. Yep, I had a concussion. I passed floor eleven…ten…nine…eight. A horrible screeching sounded above and I shot out of the stairwell into the garage, throwing myself to the pavement and scrambling underneath a huge SUV. Running footsteps coalesced with curious voices. I lay there in a puddle of oil, hoping like hell that the voices didn’t own the car I was under.

Heavy breathing and then a hand grabbed my foot. I dug in with the toes of my other foot, trying desperately to get free.

“Kick me and I’ll take my chances with Khavien’s anger.” Cain was pissed.

Oil soaked through my shirt and bra and the pungent smell almost made me gag as I struggled to keep my hair out of it. The minute I was clear of the car, Cain flipped me over and straddled my thighs.

“You’re going to get up and walk up those stairs in front of me to a 4/4 cadence.” He tightened his thighs and leaned over my face, his hair brushing my cheeks. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“Someone tried to kill you. I don’t have time to play games with you. Now get up.” He stood and intentionally left me to scramble up off the concrete on my own. “Move.”

The cadence went through my head automatically, the rhythm also setting the pace for my throbbing headache, as my legs moved like rusty hinges bearing great weight. I struggled, breathing hard, until I made it back up to the twelfth floor where I paused. The door, the doorframe and the surrounding concrete were all destroyed. If someone had told me a bomb had blown the door from its hinges, I’d have accepted it and moved on, never questioning anything about powder marks or shrapnel or the fact that the window was remarkably intact. Naiveté wasn’t an option, though. I knew what had happened. I looked over my shoulder and found the source of the destruction three stairs back, watching me intently.

“Problem?” he asked. His voice was cool enough to keep ice cream from melting in the stairwell heat.

“Mind telling me how you managed that?” I met his gaze and refused to back down, even as he moved up to and then by me and finally out into the sunshine.

“It was a really big wind,” he answered. “Really, really big.” He stretched as he walked and then drew his arms down so he could strike a classic body builder’s pose.

I know it wasn’t funny, but I laughed.

He looked over his shoulder at me and, jerking his head, indicated I should follow him to the car.

I moved forward on legs as reliable as democracy. Keep it together, Dani. Just long enough to get home, I admonished. The bright afternoon sun combined with the acres of cement made me feel as if I were baking.

Moving with unnatural grace, Cain stalked to the back of the car and called me along with him.

“I’m not your pet.” My words were smooth and firm. Bully for me.

“And isn’t that a shame?” He held out a towel. “You’ll have to change clothes before you get in the car.”

“I don’t have any other clothes.” If he thought I was going to spend my hard-earned money buying new…click. “I’m not riding home in your car naked. I’ll call for a ride.” Shoving my hand in my purse, I dug around for the pre-paid cell phone I carried for emergencies. Being naked in front of Cain qualified.

“So you keep threatening. Your phone’s on your charger at your trailer and no, you can’t borrow mine.” Cain unbuttoned his pants and pulled off his shirt. I couldn’t look for staring. A prime male specimen, his chest and abs were the embodiment of perfection, muscled but not muscle-bound. Broad shoulders, ripped arms, amazing pecs—it all came together to form an unforgettable man. Scars riddled his body, some major and some minor. All of them were clearly earned and none of them served as a detraction of his undeniable appeal. My subconscious screamed at me to look away while my eyes were busy recording every inch of him with the accuracy of a Polaroid for future review. He slid his hands into the waistband of his jeans and began to pull them down. I sucked in air at the sight of his boxer briefs. They clung in all the right places.

He glanced my way then back, staring at my interest in his current attire. “We could make this a bit more interesting.” He tugged at the cotton clinging to his hip, slipping it down so the very top of his butt cheek was exposed.

I blushed wildly and shook my head.

“No?” He grinned. “All right.” He stripped his jeans off and reached into the trunk for a pair of grey sweatpants. “I’ve got a sweatshirt and a towel. You’re welcome to either or both. Just make your decision faster than you pick fabric colors. I really do have other stuff to do and this leg hurts like a bitch.” He dug around and offered me the sweatshirt and an average-size bath towel. I’d hoped for a beach towel—or a king-sized sheet—but this would do.

“Turn around,” I managed to croak out.

His eyes flared before he shrugged and turned around. “You act like you’re a virgin.” He choked and his voice was tight when he asked, “You’re not a virgin are you?”

“It’s none of your business,” I snapped, struggling with the heat, the headache and the embarrassment.

“Son of a bitch.” His words were strained. “Figures I’d get saddled with inexperience.”

“Hey!” I yanked the sweatshirt over my head. “I mean it. It’s none of your business.”

“Are you done?”

I scrambled to wrap the towel around my waist at the same time he turned around.

“Get in the car.” His voice was hard, disconnected.

Clutching my makeshift skirt and trying desperately not to look at his sculpted chest, I moved to the passenger door. Surprise must have again shown on my face when he opened it for me.

“Don’t make this something it’s not. I opened your door. It’s not a profession of love or even affection. Get in.”

I slid into the car and the towel edges separated to my hip, revealing one long, toned leg.

Cain stared for a moment before muttering a curse and slamming the door.

Nothing could have pleased me more.

CHAPTER SIX

THE TRIP HOME FELT like it took forever. My borrowed sweatshirt smelled like my bodyguard—musky, all male, with soft overtones of a cologne I didn’t recognize. Curls knotted and snagged as I ran my hands through my hair. It was such a mess. “Malkuth help me,” I groused. Winding it up to clip in place was the best I could do.

I couldn’t stop thinking about how Cain had acted with every woman he’d come into contact with. We were on our way out of town when I dug up the courage to ask what I most wanted to know. “Does being an incubus affect you the same way it does those around you?”

He was silent long enough I gave up and looked out the window. That’s when he surprised me. “No. It’s the power to generate lust in others. That’s it. When I go into a…situation…I don’t have the benefit of a lust-hazed mind as an excuse or a defense.”

“I thought you had to feed on lust, too.”

He looked at me long and hard. “Awfully curious aren’t you?” I didn’t answer and he continued. “I only have to feed occasionally due to age.”

I was relieved. It might have been a false sense of security, but sitting there in my underwear I’d take what I could get. “How old are you?”

“Where are your boundaries?” He sounded irritated but it didn’t stop him from answering. “I’m old, angel. Leave it at that.”

“I have boundaries. I’m just not scared of you.” He reached for my bare knee and I jerked away from him, making him arch a brow even as he pulled his hand back. “Caution doesn’t equate to fear.”

“What is it about you?” Frustration laced his words. “What exactly do you do?”

“You know what I do. I’m the fortune teller.”

“No.” He gripped the wheel hard enough his knuckles turned white. “Why are you at the Fair at all?”

I froze and my chest tightened. I shook my head. “I’m no one, Cain.” Stick to the truth. Don’t deviate, don’t volunteer.

“Not true. Beyond driving me insane, what’s your gift?”

Evade. Redirect. “That’s rude and you know it. I don’t ask you what your gifts are beyond your ability to cat around.”

“Cat around?” He laughed out loud. “You can’t just focus on the incubus side, angel. First word in my breed is ‘predatory’ after all.”

Keep him talking. “So, what, you kill too? Like an assassin?”

“Just like.” He looked over at me and, despite the dark shades, I could see the orange blaze to life in his eyes. “Aren’t you curious about that side as well? Or is it only the sex aspect that interests you?”

I didn’t answer him, furious with both of us for my own curiosity.

The mile markers flew by as we left the city. We’d entered more rural landscape when he said, “I was a gladiator, back when my life was my own.”

Visions of time long past flooded my mind and fueled my curiosity. “Do you mind if I ask…about before?”

“Go ahead and ask. I’ll answer a couple of questions.”

History lessons roiled through my mind and I grabbed the first fact that slowed down. “I thought gladiators were slaves.”

“We were, mostly. On occasion, a gladiator would win his freedom. When one of us did, he was either stoned to death or revered as the rock star of the day.” He looked at me, gauging how much to say. My favorite lopsided grin prevailed. “I was the biggest rock star of them all.”

“Did you like it?”

He shrugged. “At the time. I’ll never forget the day I won my release and walked out of the arena a free man. I won a nearly dead horse and a handful of dupondios and as. It was probably about five dollars. Bloodied and filthy, women threw themselves at me and men offered me housing.” He shook his head. “That was a long time ago.”

A comfortable silence descended over the car and I was sorry to ruin it, but I wanted to know. “If you were alive once, how did you end up as an incubus?”

His jaw tightened and fine lines marred the perfect features of his eyes and mouth. Silence fell between us, thick and uncomfortable.

Road noise hummed cathartically through the car. Cain toyed with the gearshift and occasionally hit buttons on the steering wheel, changing the radio. He wove in and out of traffic smoothly but without real concentration, his attention focused elsewhere.

I didn’t want to leave too much time open for him to come up with questions to ask me but just as I was about to fill the gap, he struck.

“Let’s turn the tables and have you tell me something, angel. I’m going to start with the most obvious. Why are you under the gun?” The bundle of muscles at his jaw were tight again, his lips thin and his neck corded with strain.

Looking down, I found his hand on the console deceptively relaxed, just like earlier. I was frustrated at his ability to lie, to hide those signs that I’d learned to depend on for my wellbeing. My breathing involuntarily sped up so I closed my eyes and worked to get it under control before I answered. “I don’t think I was the target unless you were driving.”

“Excuse the hell out of me, but what did you just say? Because I know you didn’t accuse me of trying to run you down.” His speed steadily increased proportionate to his anger and we were now flying down the interstate.

I shifted in the seat to face him better and he slid his sunglasses down his nose to glare at me more effectively.

We were going fast enough the road demanded his attention. He looked away, slid the glasses back up and flexed his jaw—flex, release, flex, release. “So. You really think I tried to kill you today, do you?”

I shrugged. “I don’t want to believe it, but look at it from my side. You went strange even before we got to the city when you got all pushy about the Key, you charged off to who knows where when we left the fabric store and then I got hit by a car that looked suspiciously like yours.”

Cain stomped on the brakes and muscled the car onto the shoulder before shutting it off. He shook with some radical emotion. “You—” He ran his hands through hair, pulled it back viciously. “What I mean is—” Sunglasses were yanked off his face and thrown so hard they fractured against the windshield, then “Dani, I—” Unsnapping his seatbelt with his left hand, he reached for me with his right. He grabbed me by the neck and forced me to face him. “Listen to me.” His voice was raspy, nearly choked. He cleared his throat twice before he said, “I did not come after you with the intent to harm. I pushed you out of the path of the car and took a hit for you. I think I’ve earned a little credit here.”

My mind registered that he also didn’t simply say he hadn’t come after me. My mouth opened and closed silently though there were a thousand things I longed to say and more I wanted to scream. I trembled, anger snaking up my legs and forcing my body to grow hot with merciless, unfamiliar emotions.

“Don’t force me,” I whispered. “Please.” I looked up at him, heart hammering in my chest. The timbre of my voice—confusion woven through with fear—humiliated me, but I never wanted to be controlled by anyone, not ever again and not for any reason. He dropped his hands and sank back in his seat, locking them behind his head at the same time I pressed myself against the passenger door, as far from him as I could get. “Don’t use your incubus side on me again.”

“I’m not doing a damned thing to you.” With a fierce glare, Cain punched the “Start” button and slammed the car in drive, pulling into traffic without even looking. We drove for half an hour in complete silence, the demon clenching the steering wheel hard enough to split its leather lacings.

I looked out the window at the passing fields of corn, row upon row. When I couldn’t take it anymore I asked, “How much longer do you think?”

He didn’t look at me when he answered. “Fifteen minutes. Why?”

Discomfort had me shifting around in my seat. “Just curious.” Truth? Too early and the performers’ area would be full, and too late would find the guests milling around. I had no desire to walk through either group in my towel and borrowed shirt.

He glanced at me, face emotionless and heavily guarded. “You want to talk about what went on back there?”

“What do you mean?” My overly casual response made him smile and his face relaxed.

“I know what happened on the rooftop, Dani. You finally saw me and you got aroused.”

“Hey, if that’s what you need to believe to get you through the trip back to the Fair? Hold onto that delusion.” No way would I admit to him that I’d been a slave to his ability.

Cain chuckled, the sound dark and silky. “It’s not a delusion. I smelled pure lust, angel, and it was all you.”

The idea that such a personal experience had been so easily observable made my skin crawl. “Stay out of my head.”

“Stay out of… Oh, that’s rich. You think I’m responsible for what you felt?”

“It wasn’t me, Cain. I’m not that person, so the only explanation is you.”

His face tightened again as the accusation rolled over him. “Tell me why you think I’m responsible? Why is it you couldn’t just experience attraction without it being a ‘fault’?” He slid lower in his chair and turned his attention back to the road.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” My answer was no more than a breath of air, nearly drowned out by the hum of tires on pavement.

“Most women would be all over the opportunity.”

“I’m not most women.” How could I be? I’d never been given the chance and my contact with him reminded me of it with a soul-wrenching brutality. Touch—any touch—with my hands, even a slip or accident, cost me dearly. I knew nothing of touch for the sake of being touched, or pleasure for the sake of giving or receiving the same.

The rest of the trip passed in absolute silence.

CAIN DROPPED ME OFF at my trailer. I had bent to speak to him, unsure what to say, but he’d given me a soul-freezing look before he pulled away hard and fast enough to force me back or risk having my toes run over. My keys were near the top of my purse and I let myself into the dark, dismal box. Ignoring everything, I stepped over to pull the shower curtain closed. Long showers weren’t an option due to my tiny propane tank, but I’d do the best I could at the moment. I could face anything if I could just get clean first. Then things could fall where they may. I stripped and stepped in, working immediately to get the oil and grease off my skin. The hot water was gone long before I was done rinsing the final time. Toweling off, I elected to completely blow-dry my hair. It was both a treat and a task, and something I didn’t do very often due to time constraints and electricity costs. Tonight I indulged myself. Once finished, I dug out my favorite book, crawled into bed and snuggled down to read. My mind wandered, and I slipped into sleep without hesitation.

The cold woke me sometime later, the missing rattle and whine of the heater creating a heavy silence. Flipping the switch resulted in a total bust. Shivering, I pulled on my boots and a robe and headed out to check the fuse box. The Fair’s smells were muted in the crisp air. I crept around the trailer and nearly tripped over the cord to the heater. Picking it up, I traced it along to find the end and plug it back it. I dropped the cord when my fingertips scraped across exposed wires. The plug head had been severed.

“Damn it,” I snarled. The separation was clean enough that I didn’t have to ask to know it had been cut.

A whisper of movement at the corner of my eye startled me, and I spun toward the threat. No one was there. My skin broke out in hard goose bumps, the feeling of being watched creating dead weight in my stomach. The itching on my back started up again. I stepped out in the open space between my trailer and Cain’s.

“Who’s there?” I called out. No answer. I took a step forward and heard a muffled thump and a rapid string of curses. “I said, who’s there?”

Footsteps sounded and, emboldened, I stepped forward in time to see a large figure disappear between neighboring trailers.

Pride be damned, I thought, running for Cain’s door and banging on it. Knuckles weren’t made to rap on cold aluminum. The contact stung. I drew back to knock again when the thought of Ahallia opening the door made me pause. I supposed I could go to K’s, but I knew that would be worse than this option. The barn had a small tack room with a cot, but Jax slept near that part of the fairground and I definitely didn’t want to encourage him. I’d just keep this strictly business.

Sucking it up, I knocked again, harder this time.

“What?” Cain’s voice was muffled by the door.

My fingers twitched with the need to open the door as my legs tensed for flight. How was I supposed to know how to handle him when even my fight-or-flight instinct was screwed up?

The trailer shimmied and I could imagine Cain lurching to his feet and stomping to the door. I didn’t have to imagine him throwing it open, however, and I stepped out of the way before it bounced back on him. Cain caught it with his near hand and glared over my head with sleepy eyes.

“Hey. Sorry to wake you in the middle of the night—” he grunted at me “—but someone’s cut the cord to my heater and he was out here a second ago. Kind of freaked me out.”

Barefoot and clad in only boxers, he hopped down and paced around the back of my trailer. I stuck close enough that I was rewarded with a litany of inventive curses when he inspected the cord. “You saw him?”

“I think so. Some big guy was lurking around and when I called out, he ran off.”

Cain spun around. “You called out to him? Son of a bitch, Dani. Do you have a death wish?”

“No. But what was I supposed to do?” I demanded. “Yes, I’m freaked. No, I don’t want to be alone. Can I bunk over?”

He choked out a laugh.

“No!” I shouted. “Uh, no. Sorry. I just want to sleep on the sofa. If that’s all right.”

“Get inside before you let all the heat out,” he grumbled, giving me a gentle shove toward the door, following me. His presence was both reassuring and disturbing.

I stepped up into the brand new trailer. Done in dark blue and cream, the leather sofa, retractable flat panel television, granite counters and stainless steel appliances were all top of the line. Wood floors ran throughout.

In the dull glow of the stove hood light, Cain made up the sofa bed with fresh sheets and blankets before turning back to me. “Why are you standing there? Go on to bed.” His voice rumbled just below the sound of the heater clicking on. I coveted the whisper quiet of that heater.

I was loathe to point out the obvious but he seemed to be moving in his sleep. “I, uh, I really can’t until you move. You’re standing in front of it.”

“Go on up to the bedroom. I’ll sleep out here.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Think about it, Dani. If someone is looking for you, they’ll come through that door.” He pointed. “You can’t be here unattended.”

“But Cain—”

“Unless your next words are an invitation to join you, all I want to hear from you is ‘goodnight, Cain.’”

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. “Goodnight, Cain.” I turned and walked up the short set of steps to the master bedroom, locking the flimsy door behind me.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE BED WAS STILL slightly warm from his elevated body temperature and the dark blue silk sheets smelled of him. I snuggled down with the intent of considering who might have seen fit to cut the power cord to my trailer. It couldn’t have been minutes before sleep dragged me under.

“Close your eyes, my little turtle dove.” Mama’s voice was so sad. “We’re going to play a game. You ready?”

I nodded, excited she was well enough to play today.

“Mama’s going to go hide and you count to fifty before you come find me. But you must look only in the house, all right? Promise me you’ll stay in the house.”

“I promise. Go hide, Mama!”

A final kiss and my mother, and father, had hidden. Damn if they hadn’t hidden well enough I hadn’t known where to find them. Ever.

“My little lamb of light, you can find us now. Open your eyes and see,” my father commanded. And like the child I’d been, always willing and anxious to please my father, I opened my eyes.

He and my mother stood together in a large room, arms linked. Neither had changed at all in the twenty-plus years since I’d last seen them. But the longer I looked, the more I knew that to be untrue. My father’s eyes were cold, dark as coal, and his wings… The gasp that escaped was unavoidable. Wings that had been pristine, white as summer clouds and edged in crimson, were darker than the blackest night and seemed to pull at the light around him.

“Daddy?” I asked, voice shaking.

“Come to us, Danielle. It’s time.” My mother’s voice was gentle. She reached out and cupped my cheek in her hand, the contact so tender it broke me.

“I can’t find you!” I cried.

“Look and see,” my father whispered. “Then come to me.”

Walls around them fell away to reveal the horrors of Sheol, more vile and violent than any story I’d ever heard. Souls caught in eternal torture didn’t quite sum it up. To simplify it to such a degree was like calling World War II a minor skirmish. Bodiless demons cast of nothing but shadow skittered up walls, their mouths gaping in a leering grin. Demons fed on the flesh of bodies that continued to regenerate so the agony was unending. Everywhere I looked, violence and torture composed the macabre scenery. And I knew that, somehow, my parents were in Sheol.

“Come, Dani. Simply take my hand,” he whispered, reaching out to me.

I panicked and fled, running blind. I didn’t know where to go. No one would help me. I had no one. I was alone, but Death knew where to find me.

“Dani?”

Cain’s voice startled me so badly I slid off the bed and hit the floor. Scrambling to my feet, I yanked up a blanket to cover myself before setting it down and picking it up again after fumbling it.

“Sorry,” I said, fighting the panic of memories. I slipped my boots on and grabbed my robe.

“What’s wrong? You were calling out in your sleep.” Cain’s voice, coming from the living room, was deep and sleepy.

“If I c-c-can just b-b-borrow an extra b-blanket I’ll g-g-get out of here and let you g-get b-back to resting.” I spoke rapidly, stuttered wildly. A tiny, detached part of my mind thought, Huh. I haven’t done that since I was a kid. The smell of lavender and sunshine flitted across my consciousness, carried by the wave of total recall I’d had in my sleep. Mama. I broke and ran, shouldering past Cain and out the front door despite his calls to stop. I wove through the silent trailers with their sleeping freaks, running as hard as I could to get away from whatever had triggered the dream.

Flashbacks of my life flickered through my mind and I recalled my parents with heart-shattering clarity. I saw the child I had been before, and couldn’t help but compare her to the child I’d become the day government workers took me away. The terror that Mom and Dad wouldn’t know where to find me if I didn’t stay right there had burned in my gut. Images of the institutions and group homes that defined the rest of my life until I’d been kicked out flashed through my mind like a broken, unstoppable slide show. And now Sheol waited.

I headed into the corn field not far from the Fair, running the straight line of the row. Turning, I wove back and forth, crossing and re-crossing my trail to confuse anyone who came looking for me. The cornstalks were tall, and I sank down to hide amid the dry, rustling plants. Closing my eyes, I sighed. Reality would come crashing down soon enough and I’d have to go back to my life. But for the moment, I intended to stay right here and pretend I could outrun my shadow.

Long before the sky above me began to lighten to a deep space blue tinged with pink, the dampness of the earth crept through my T-shirt, shorts and robe, leaving me chilled and shivering hard enough my teeth clacked together like professional castanets. I spent the night wondering about the theory of cause and effect and how it had influenced my life. What kind of parents left an eight-year-old child without food, money or adult supervision? I couldn’t remember details about why they’d left, but the consequence was the same. Gone was gone, after all.

The sound of crackling leaves startled me. I eased to my feet, well aware this particular farmer didn’t think much of freaks. To be shot for trespassing would cap off a perfectly lovely night.

A second body joined the first and I froze, listening.

“No clue, and I’m not convinced it’s her,” a deep voice whispered. “I asked.” Silence, save for the sounds of bodies moving around me. “I’ll tell you once more, stay back. No more creative stunts.” More silence. “Until you beat me, you answer to me, valsché. Stay in the city. I catch you here again and you’ll have to regrow your tongue before you’re able to plead for his intervention.”

I eased back toward the edge of the field, silent as a wraith. The sky continued to lighten. The urge to run nearly overwhelmed me. A hand clamped over my mouth and another went around my body, cinching me up close to my assailant. I grabbed his arm, pulling as hard as I could. Blackness encroached on my vision and I started screaming, then the lights went out and Sheol erupted before me for the second time tonight.

The darkness stank with the smell of brimstone and terror. The screams of the damned made my breath hang up in my chest. I gasped, squinted, tried to look beyond the darkness but it was everywhere. The heft of the sulfur choked me and I clawed at my throat. Air shifted around me, sentient hands sliding up my legs. Loose shale threatened my balance as tremors rocked the underworld. Short bursts of flame burned my corneas, leaving relief imprints of Sheol’s occupants seared on the forefront of my mind.

I reached a hand out in front of me, desperate to move, terrified to take the first step. The itching on my back changed to a rolling sensation, as if something live moved under the skin. I slapped at the movement but it slipped out of reach. My name rang through the passageway on the wings of a scream. I recognized the voice, knew he had been the one to grab me in that forsaken corn field. He never should have followed me. Now I knew not only that Cain was going to die, but I knew how and when.

The first thing that hit my consciousness was a splitting headache. The closer I loomed to the voices, the stronger the headache grew. Next came a ringing in my ears and a residual stench in my nostrils. Even only halfway revived I knew I’d never had a vision that strong before.

“Dani?” Khavien’s sultry voice rolled across my skin like fur and I shivered as he chuckled. “You’re almost back. Gave us a scare, my sweet.”

Us? Oh. “Cornfield.” My voice sounded like someone had taken a hasp to my vocal cords.

“You shouldn’t have run off.” Tipton.

“I’m sorry.” I cleared my throat and a hand slid beneath my shoulders and brought a bottle of water to my lips.

“You want to tell me why you tore out of my trailer like it was on fire? You clearly intended to leave me to die in the blaze.” Cain’s voice was there and I opened my eyes only to find his blue and orange ones looming over me. A whiff of brimstone wafted between us and I panicked, scrambling away from the large man. “Dani?”

Holding my throat against the burn of the sulfur smell, I shook my head and wrapped my free arm around my knees. All my focus went to slowing my breathing. The three men waited on my response.

“Who were you talking to in the cornfield?” I croaked, my eyes briefly landing on Cain’s face.

The Specialty Demon’s eyes shuttered immediately. “Personal business.”

I nodded, but I didn’t believe that was all there was to it. He was lying, and I didn’t have room for that in my life. Opening my mouth to press him for the truth, Jax chose that moment to step out of the cornfield not far from where I crouched. He looked first at me and then at Cain who was squatted down, arms hanging over his knees.

“What have you done to her?” Jax’s question was directed at one man.

“Run back to the stable, Mr. Ed. I hear one of the Shetland ponies is in heat. Now shoo…or giddy-up. Whatever.”

With a roar of indignation Jax threw himself toward Cain and the demon surged off the ground to meet the centaur’s charge. They came together with a muffled thud of flesh on flesh, beating on each other, no holds barred. Jax managed to slip free of Cain and spin, delivering a particularly vicious kick to the demon’s solar plexus which seemed to end the conflict.

Cain picked himself up off the ground and said through wheezes and a couple of short coughs, “That the best you got? Shit, I thought having two extra legs and a tail would have made you a badass, but you’re really just more jackass, aren’t you?”

The centaur turned back to Cain. “I knocked you down once. I’ll do it again.”

Cain pulled his t-shirt over his head and tucked it down the back of his pants. “Bring it.”

They met again amid a barrage of punches and kicks, sweating and cursing each other as blows rained and bruises blossomed. Cain caught Jax unprepared and whipped his t-shirt over the centaur’s head. Jax instinctively reached for it and Cain grabbed his arms, hauling them behind his body and vaulting onto the centaur’s back.

“Now,” Cain snarled, “we can do this one of two ways. You can either go back to the stables on your own, or you can carry me back into camp and we’ll make a few laps around the grounds for good measure. Your choice, mule.”

Jax said something through the shirt and Cain grinned in response.

“I thought you might see it that way.” Cain caught sight of me and motioned me away. “I’m going to release your arms. You pull this shirt off your head when I’m clear and then you head straight back to the Fair. I don’t care if you stay or leave, but you’ll stop this nonsense where she’s involved. And if we come to blows again, I’ll kill you.”

I gasped at Cain’s threat at the same time he let go of Jax’s arms and slid to the ground, allowing the centaur to pull the t-shirt off his head. Jax turned and saw me, visibly paling in the early morning light. He’d been humiliated in front of me yet again. Tossing the shirt at Cain’s feet, he strutted by and said, “This isn’t over, demon.”

“Yeah, it is.” Cain bent over to pick the shirt up and Jax kicked him in the side of the head.

“Now it’s over—hopefully for good.” Jax sauntered away as K, Tipton and I all ran to the demon who lay crumpled in the field.

Tipton was inclined to leave Cain’s survival to the Fates, but I pleaded with him and Khavien to carry the demon’s limp form back to his trailer. Tipton grudgingly agreed and the two men had seen Cain delivered, and dumped, back in his bed. Neither had commented on the sofa bed being made up.

K’s parting words hung with me. “Let me know if he doesn’t make it and you need a new ticket taker tonight.”

Life just didn’t respect death around here.

I moved around his kitchen in search of coffee and maybe breakfast. It surprised me to find Cain’s trailer well-stocked. Despite what I thought I knew about him, he didn’t strike me as the domestic type. The thought of him grocery shopping made me snort and grin.

The breakfast dishes were done when I heard him groan. Stepping into his bedroom, I watched him trace the imprint of a horseshoe on the side of his head.

“Did that bastard really kick me in the side of the head?”

“Uh huh.”

Cain rolled onto his back and flopped an arm over his eyes. “I could have stayed in Sheol if I wanted this kind of abuse.”

The morning’s oddities came rushing back. “It was you who grabbed me in the cornfield, wasn’t it.”

He peeked out from under his forearm. “Yeah. I didn’t want you to scream and scare the others.” His eyes grew darker and he shook his head. “You’ve got quite the following, Ms… What’s your last name, Dani?”

My stomach settled somewhere near my knees. “Cain, how can demons die?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure I should tell you other than to say there are a variety of ways we can be taken out. But true death?” He shrugged, refusing to meet my eyes.

“But you can still get sent back to Sheol?” I pressed, wanting to be sure I understood.

“Dani, what’s with the sudden interest in how demons die?” Cain watched me and, after several minutes of silence, he sighed. “You saw my re-death, didn’t you?”

“Something like that. Tell me how it happens, how the already damned can die.”

“It’s not pretty, Dani. The damned still have pieces of a soul. It’s small, but it’s there. We can be collected two ways. First is the simplest. Our physical body dies and we’re reclaimed and reborn to Sheol. It’s painful to have the soul taken, but it’s survivable. The second?” He shuddered then rolled his shoulders. “The second is ugly. Sheol has soulless creatures called wraithen. They’re these dark, vapor-looking things. There’s one who controls them. When ordered, they come and separate the soul from the body permanently. The victim is recreated as a soulless wraithen, never to have physical form again. They’re always starving, always desperately thirsty and always enraged, all with no outlet save one—making another wraithen.

“There’s a third way but I won’t discuss it. Not now.” Cain pushed himself to sitting, the silk pooling around his hips. “I think I deserve to know what happens to me. I mean, I did save you from living in a barn.” He chuckled at his own joke before lying back in bed, holding his head.

“You all right?” I asked softly.

Cain cracked one blue eye and squinted at me. “The light’s beginning to bother me. I think I’m going to take the evening off and just rest. Pass the word on to K, would you?”

I stared hard. Seemed odd he was suddenly uncomfortable enough to bow out of work, particularly after chatting me up some. Whatever. He was a demon. I shouldn’t expect his work ethic to be stellar. “I’ll manage the tent tonight since we’re supposed to be back to work. Want me to check on you later before I go?”

He sat up in bed, the comforter bunching loosely around his hips and across his thighs. “No, but thanks anyway.”

“One other thing.” I waited for him to say something. When he only stared, I continued. “Who were you talking to on the phone?”

Cain’s entire demeanor changed. “That’s really none of your concern as it doesn’t involve you. If you don’t mind, I’m going to catch some sleep. My head’s killing me.”

I nodded and left, ignoring the fact he was dialing his cell before I was even out the door.

Work was brutal. When Khavien learned I was at the tent alone, he blew a fuse. He ranted about the dangers of leaving me alone without someone to manage the “crazies.” It satisfied some small part of me that he worried over me when I’d been the one to ask for a bodyguard. Unable to pull anyone else off a pre-assigned shift to cover my tent, K decided to work it himself. It wasn’t done gracefully, and threats to Cain’s employment were made, but in the end I wasn’t alone.

A couple hours into my shift a burly man with a stained, sleeveless undershirt and greasy jeans muscled his way to the front of the line. His arms looked like ham hocks, and his head and neck could have been cast from the same five-gallon bucket. Given what I could understand of his and K’s conversation, Ham Hocks had a serious death wish and a residual hard-on for a woman who’d left him. While I was inclined to cheer for the woman, the dude was stone-cold crazy.

“Step back in line, sir. Dani will see you when your ticket’s called, not before.” K’s tone was cool bordering on cold but his eyes had transitioned to arctic. When the man didn’t move, Khavien said, “Now, sir. I won’t ask you again.”

“You won’t have to,” Ham Hocks said, hauling back in slow motion to hit Khavien. I almost shouted at K but it would have been over by that point. Khavien moved with near-vampiric speed, ducking behind the man, grabbing his arm and folding it up behind him before he drove the madman to the ground. Ham Hocks fell like a giant tree in the forest and there were plenty of us to hear him go boom.

Several fair workers and street vendors rushed in to help, but K waived them off and called to me instead. “Tell me, Dani, what do you see for this man’s future?” he asked, the question punctuated with a wink.

I strolled over and laid a bare hand over Ham Hock’s scalp, closed my eyes and “tsked.” I had to keep from yanking my hand away from his head, though, because the man’s lifespan was short and his head was disgustingly oily. He was going to die in a fight sometime within the next month.

“Looks like Ambrose here has been a bad boy,” I murmured just loud enough for the crowd to hear.

“You bitch,” he spat. Literally. I was Lysoling these shoes when I got home. “Get your hands off me or I’ll kill you.”

I stepped back calmly and watched as Tipton carefully worked his way through the crowd. He was easily as husky as the man, but Tip was all muscle and half demon whereas the man on the ground in front of me was mostly lard. Tipton finally reached us and hauled the man to his feet.

“Let me assure you, my friend,” Tipton growled, flecks of orange lighting his irises in an eerie and unusual backlit display, “that you won’t want to have anything to do with either of these individuals again.” When Ham Hocks started to curse us, Tipton lifted him off the ground and shook him as if he was as insignificant as a damp dishrag. The man’s eyes rolled back in his head and Tipton laughed as a large wet stain spread down the front of the other man’s pants. “Seems the poor bloke’s pissed himself at the idea of falling on the wrong side of Fair justice.”

People tittered and chuckled, some at the play on words, others at the shock of Tipton so easily handling the man. “If you’ll see this man to the local police,” I said softly so others strained to hear me, “it would be better for him to wake up in their custody.”

The crowd let go its pent up breath and began chattering wildly. The man wasn’t dead, the man was an idiot, the man was crazy, and on it went until I was consoled by an older woman who said she’d heard I’d been assaulted. “It’s nice you were still able to work tonight, though. Most women who are violated would have gone to the authorities. So you see, I’ve been wondering…” and off she went, asking about her fortune.

I just stared at her, dumbfounded. Did people think so little of us as freaks that they believed we’d just climb back in the saddle to entertain them if one of theirs sexually assaulted us? I choked on an unbelieving laugh and the woman faltered and looked up. Her face froze.

My eyes had begun to burn and cast shadows throughout the room.

Oh. Shit.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I WASN’T ENTIRELY SURE what the hell was going on. She’d been inanely chatting away about offensive topics when my choked sound had drawn and refocused her attention to me. A strange look of awe and horror had passed over her face before she gasped and tipped her chair over as she scrambled to get out of the tent. For a Centrum Silver gal, she sure could move.

Confused didn’t begin to describe my condition. I was well past the age of puberty and maturity, so I shouldn’t be evolving. My genetics should be effectively set. Changes of this magnitude shouldn’t happen to me. Not now. Not ever. The whole burning eye thing was a sign that I’d inherited more from my angelic father than I’d ever expected. It confirmed my worst fears that I was a one-of-a-kind anomaly, and that made me more desirable to both private collectors and the government.

My eyes glowed with a bright, internal light that lit up the world in new colors. I could see details I’d never experienced before—the colors of individual threads stitched together to create the tent seams, the dimensional striations in the metal tent poles, the individually woven tarp strands—and it was overwhelming.

The burning sensation wasn’t horrible but it wasn’t pleasurable, either. I rubbed my eyes, thankful I hadn’t put on makeup tonight. They felt…not unnatural, exactly, but like they weren’t mine. I was aware of them, aware of the distinct difference between my vision now versus moments ago. I wonder if they’re still amber, like Dad’s used to be.

The tent flap flipped back and I dropped into my chair, slamming my eyes closed. Khavien stepped inside. I practiced deep breathing and relaxation techniques as I tried to get the glow to leave. I wasn’t sure Khavien would identify me on the Fair program, but I had to assume he would and I had no idea what to do. K couldn’t see this. He’d know, without a doubt, what I was. No one could know.

“Dani?” Khavien approached slowly. “I know you hear me.”

Shit. I really needed to learn to lie better with my body.

“Open your eyes and tell me what happened that scared the woman away from the tent.” When I didn’t respond, he slapped his hands down on the table. I jumped, but still nothing. We sat for maybe thirty seconds, me panicking as he plotted, then I heard him move. The air brushed my arm and I wondered what he intended to do, right up until he did it.

I shot out of the chair as K ran a hand up the inside of my thigh, my eyes flying open instinctually as I fell out of the chair in my haste to get away. K laid his hand on my shoulder as I stood. I whipped around to face him. “What do you want from me, Khavien?” Fury pounded through my veins with every hard heartbeat. “You see what you wanted to see? Well, so did she, and then some. Now back the fuck off.”

Khavien grabbed my chin and tried to force me to look at him.

Sick and tired of being manhandled, I grabbed K’s jacketed arms hard enough that I knew both skin and bone would be damaged. I lifted him up and slammed him down, pro-wrestler style. Stunned, I couldn’t believe what I’d done. I fell to my knees with bruising force. Khavien, my boss, was out cold. I picked him up from the slight depression his body had made in the asphalt. Fear and shock shut my eyes off as effectively as a light switch.

The reality of the Fair roared over me, six years of familiar sounds and smells assaulting my senses and I couldn’t move. Home. It echoed through my mind, drawing me back from an abyss I’d had no clue existed within me.

With nowhere else to go, I picked Khavien up far too easily and headed for his trailer.

I SNUCK OUT THE slim seam at the back of the tent and darted shadow to shadow with Khavien hoisted over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Murphy’s Law was in full effect when I reached his trailer and found the door locked. I set him down and dug through his pockets to retrieve the keys. Pulling him inside, I laid him on the floor in front of his desk. A bed may have been more practical, but K’s bedroom was off limits for a hundred reasons. Then it was simply a matter of waiting for him to wake up.

His color was poor so I knew he’d have to feed in order to cure the damage. It wouldn’t—couldn’t—be from me, but I didn’t know who was next on his feeding rotation. Usually he had a few local volunteers as well. I dozed off and on while I waited, my mind essentially on overload. The hands on the clock drifted by, chunks of time quietly disappearing as dawn approached. I slipped into a timeless zone and wasn’t paying attention when he shot off the floor and skittered up the wall like a spider. He hung for a moment, his eyes narrowing when he finally focused on me.

“Care to tell me why you’re pulling a flying monkey on me?” My voice was calm, fear hidden behind sarcasm. He hung there for several minutes, and I dared not move. Stories of vampires and heavily vampiric dhampirs circulated, stories depicting them as slightly crazed when they woke up threatened. Considering I’d left a pretty accurate imprint of his body in the blacktop less than five hours before, this qualified.

“Feed me,” he hissed, and I felt his will move around me, tug at me, encourage me to come forward.

“No.” His eyes glittered in the low-lit room as I slowly stood. “Tell me who to call and I will, but I’ve never been on your rotation.”

“You are now.” He dropped from the corner he’d drifted to and one of his ankles buckled under him. He winced but continued to walk on the clearly broken joint, muscle alone keeping him upright.

“I’m not feeding you.” I backed away from him, circling toward the door. “I know you saw what happened. You know I can’t feed you.” He never slowed in his approach but shifted so he blocked my movement toward the door.

“You can feed me, and you will.” His voice was seductive and need pooled between my thighs. “You want this, Dani Fayel.”

“Your voice is good, but it’s not that good.” Seeing a small opening, I rushed the door as K launched himself at me.

He was a lean, muscular man who hit like a fucking truck. That would be important to remember if I ever started breathing again. He straddled my back and held me face down on the carpet. Struggling to claim even a thimble of air as my own, I forced my head to the side. He cranked it farther, pressing my ear to the floor. I’d thought I could beat him in a physical contest, but it appeared we were evenly matched with the element of surprise giving him the upper hand. This just kept going from bad to worse by leaps and bounds.

“K, don’t do this.” I knew it was pointless to scream. Most of the Fair was already asleep. Besides, with the BDSM and such that went on among the more sexually liberal freaks, a scream from within a trailer wouldn’t be alarming in and of itself. And a scream from this trailer would be standard fare.

Khavien lowered his face to my neck and licked the jugular. My skin began to tingle. He moved to my ear and nipped it. Maneuvering, he stretched out on top of me, pinning me to the ground with his whole body. I shivered. When he licked my neck again I realized he was numbing the area before biting.

“Khavien, you can’t! I could kill you!” I yelled.

“You won’t kill me for this,” he murmured into my neck. Then he struck.

With his first pull, arousal ricocheted through me. It may have been the byproduct of the diluted vampire venom Khavien had as a dhampir, but it didn’t matter. The result was essentially the same. My nipples hardened, my core ached with wanting, and my shouted warning slipped away, forgotten. I was fluid in his arms. Still, I knew I’d kill him if he didn’t quit and that awareness drew me back to the surface. “You have to let me go, K. I don’t want to hurt you.” I sighed, the sensations intensifying. It was like nothing I’d ever known before—pleasure, pain, control and submission all bound up in a neat little package.

I knew the moment Khavien realized something was wrong. The draw on my neck lessened and he swallowed less convulsively, letting blood flow from his mouth and run down the front of my neck to pool under my chin. His final draw was weak and most of the blood must have flooded out of his damaged mouth.

He screamed and threw himself off me, scrubbing at his face to get the blood off. I laid there, a victim of his foreplay, unable to help as I bled all over the carpet. The sink was closest and he scrambled to it, splashing water over himself frantically as I watched blisters form everywhere my blood had touched him. Had he given me even three seconds longer I would have told him I was malekosh and he could have avoided the catastrophic damage ingesting my blood would cause him and any of the vampiric species.

The water shut off and I rolled my eyes upward, the burn telling me they’d lit up again. Khavien had suffered blistering and third degree burns all over his chin and neck. The inside of his mouth was nothing but raw meat.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. There was nothing more to say, little I could do other than call a donor. He stared at me and I went to the phone, handed it to him. The keys chirped as he dialed and handed the phone back to me. A woman answered, groggy but clearly thrilled.

“Khavien, baby? You ok?” Her voice was like hummingbird water, laced with sweetness but no substance.

“Khavien needs a donor. Can you come?” My voice was undeniably breathy as I fought through the receding lust. It seemed to ebb and flow, toying with me, leaving me unsatisfied.

“What did you do to him, you bitch?” I could hear her moving around, gathering her things. “I will cut you up if you hurt him.”

“He’s at his trailer. Come quick.” The dramatics of my statement had her yelling at me as I set the phone down. Hard as it was, I took a deep breath and turned to find Khavien closer than I’d realized.

His hands shot out and spun me around, ripped my shirt open and dug at my back. I laughed bitterly.

“No such luck.” I wrenched out of his grasp and turned to face him, breathing hard with a catch in my voice. “Nothing happened when I hit maturity, K. I’m a null, a wingless half-breed who can’t do much more than see limited futures, foretell death and now bring ships to shore with freaky eyes.” I scrubbed my face with the flats of my hands and blew out a hard breath before looking up at his flat, cold eyes, pinched at the corners from pain. “I’m going home. Fire me tomorrow if you have to. Just let me sleep in for once in my life. Just once.”

His nod told me nothing more than that he’d heard me so I headed for the door, hyperaware of the dhampir at my back. The night was silent, the sky a deep, endless black that cried for light. Temperatures had dropped dramatically, heralding the end of Indian Summer and ushering in the final season of the year. I stopped on the doorstep, took in a lungful of crisp, dry air and turned back to K.

“When you insisted I tell your future, I did. And I told you to be careful with the next hand you forced. I warned you, Khavien. You didn’t take me seriously. Next time, I’d suggest you listen.” My steps were leaden as I left, intent only on putting distance between us. Security, however false, sat less than two hundred yards away in the form of one run down, tiny trailer. I wanted nothing more than to make it to that tin can and get lost in sleep for even a few hours.

It was home. It beckoned. And I answered.

EXHAUSTION HAD ME STUMBLING over familiar rocks and ruts I’d traversed every dark pre-dawn since the Fair had stopped here. The quiet of the early morning air gave me time to contemplate my next moves as I studied the sky for the first blush of dawn.

What had happened made me sick to my stomach. I’d never been a danger to anyone, never harmed someone simply by being. I didn’t know what to think, but I wasn’t prepared to chalk off tonight’s conflict to something simple. There was nothing “simple” about almost killing your boss and friend.

I’d seriously broken trust and caused him major damage by withholding my pedigree. If Khavien let me stay, there would undoubtedly come a day of reckoning. At the very least, I’d owe him a detailed heritage. I could give parents and that was it. It wasn’t that grandparents and more didn’t exist, it was that they’d never been discussed and now I had no one to ask.

Should Khavien fire me for almost killing him, however, I’d have to find someone to sell my trailer and most of the contents. It was all so run down and used up, I doubted it would bring much at all. I’d carry what I could and I’d get as far away from here as my limited funds would take me. Maybe I’d go to Alaska to work the lobster boats or to Maine to do the same. I could save up money that way and buy a small place in a remote area, become mostly self-sufficient. Bitter laughter choked me. “Self-sufficient” I wasn’t, even in daydreams.

My keys poked at my hip so I dug them out early, swinging them round my finger then catching them. Swing, catch, repeat. Swing, catch, repeat.

The sound of feet pounding the ground had me turning to see what was happening, but the man hit me before I made it all the way around. Every ounce of air in my lungs was expelled with force. My keys went flying, arcing up then out of sight. They hit the ground right before I did, their clatter muffled in the dirt.

“You fuckin’ bitch! You gonna pay for my bail in a little blood-lettin’.” A boot connected with my ribs and the pain made me want to puke. My instinct should have been to curl in on myself, protect the hurt, but that wasn’t the instinct that inexplicably rose to the surface. Rage descended on me like a bride’s veil and allowed me to watch the giant of a man come for me. Instinct told me to fight. Common sense reminded me I clearly wasn’t very good at it. Instinct ruled.

I swung out and caught him off guard, connecting with his jaw hard enough I knew I’d dislocated it at the very least. The surprise punch stunned him and I drove a sneaker-clad foot up toward his groin, connecting and confirming he was all man.

With a bellow, the man who had caused a scene outside my tent earlier—Ham Hocks?—grabbed his package and bent forward. Eyes blazing to light, I kicked out in a roundhouse motion, intent on separating the guy’s head from his shoulders but as I spun I hit the edge of a rut and lost my momentum and, not surprisingly, my advantage.

Ham Hocks lunged for me, his own eyes blazing orange, his pupils pinpricks of deep red. Demon. Hands the size of dinner plates reached out and snagged my hair as I tried to break away and we went down in a tangle of punching fists, swinging arms and kicking legs. I slashed for his eyes with curled fingers and caught his cheek instead, gouged it open just as his fist connected with the upper part of my belly, driving the fractional breath I’d recovered out with the efficacy of a strongman punching through tissue paper. It was as if his hands reached up and squeezed my lungs. I gasped, desperate for air, unable to move other than to clutch at my stomach and try to coax air to return to me.

“Bitch.” Ham Hocks spat, spraying a fine mist of blood over my face. “I’m gonna teach you a little about respect before you meet your daddy.”

Thoughts moved sluggishly through my mind. My dad? How in the name of Sheol did he know about my dad? Pushing to my knees, I tried to get up and face him. I wasn’t going to lie there and die. Not my style. His motorcycle boot connected with the softest part of my belly before I made it to standing. I threw up without warning, my stomach violently objecting to the abuse. The fact that this blow was far worse yet hurt less scared me.

He wrapped a fist in my hair and beat my head against the ground before lifting it up, hyper-extending my neck back so I saw his face in duplicate…triplicate? I knew with certainty he’d kill me before this was over. The thought must have passed across my face because he chuckled.

“Looks like you just told your own future, bitch.”

“Let me go,” I slurred, feeling my eyes fade. He did, kicking a glancing blow off my ribs as I fell and turned away from him.

“Not in this lifetime.” He moved over me and I lay there, trying to curl in on myself but the blows he’d struck had been true and effective. A sound drew his attention and he jerked up to face the intruder. Even in the moonlight I could see him pale. “What the hell? Holy shit. Cain? Man, I didn’t know this was your territory. He just told me to kill the girl here,” he whispered, and his steps began to retreat, slowly at first then faster until I could hear feet thundering against the ground in his effort to get away. Something large leapt across me and gave chase. A short, deep scream sounded. Silence followed.

Someone turned me over very gently, and I could have sworn it was Khavien. A large, hideously beautiful creature stood behind him and looked down at me. That was the last face I either saw or imagined before my uncooperative eyes slipped away to look up at the deep, dark sky. Broken, I wondered if my father would greet my soul tonight.

I AWOKE TWO DAYS later in Cain’s trailer, his surly company and short temper my only companions. He refused to let me go back to my trailer following the attack, seeming to take some personal responsibility in not having been there to see me home safe from Khavien’s, though he had no idea why I’d been there so late. Instead of talking it out, we set up a pseudo-comfortable living arrangement in his place. I slept in the main bedroom and he slept on the floor between the doorway and me. We barely spoke.

Khavien didn’t visit. His absence surprised me as well as stung. Cain asked only once why the boss kept his distance, and given that I didn’t know how to explain it, I left it alone. “After he jumped me, I burned the shit out of him” seemed too impersonal. Anything else was too much information. And since I hadn’t heard from K, I had to assume I’d been fired. So instead of saying anything, I just kept my mouth shut and shrugged every time Cain asked. Cue the demon’s short temper.

The third morning after the attack found me sitting on the sofa as I sipped a nice Kona blend and contemplated the demon moving about the kitchen. I looked down into my coffee, digging around for some type of safe conversation. My head jerked up as a simple question from the other day crossed my mind. The silence had to end eventually and now seemed as reasonable a time as any. Once more into the breach, I thought.

“So, Cain, are you infamous?”

He glanced over his shoulder at me and shot me a questioning look. “What do you mean? I told you I was a gladiator.”

“No, I meant…well…Biblically. Did you kill your brother? Are you that Cain?”

The demon rolled his eyes. “No relation. How many millennia will have to pass before that damned assumption’s not made?” He’d been making omelets at the stove and spilled cheese all over the gas eye. Smoke filled the confined space and the little alarm went off. “For the love of all that’s holy!”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “And that direct reference to Malkuth, that show of faith, is probably what got you kicked out of Sheol.”

“Bitch,” he snarled, though it seemed playful.

“Conscionable demon.”

He flipped me off and stepped to the coffee pot, yanking it off the hot plate to refresh his cup. “If there’s ever a banshee shortage in Sheol…” His voice still held the teasing tone from seconds before but it didn’t stop me from jerking like a cattle prod had been applied to my bare soles.

“I’m not a banshee.”

Cain caught my unguarded reaction and turned, the movement controlled and predatory. “Look, Dani, I need to know what you are.”

“I’ve told you before. Don’t ask.”

“Fine. Then let’s talk about the other night. I’d like to ask you how you managed to hold your own with a demon and why you’re healing so fast.”

Orange eyes flared in my memory and I almost choked. “Just drop it. I’m not answering your questions,” I snapped.

Cain rose up to his formidable height and his eyes blazed. “I may have been released, but don’t forget I was in Sheol for a reason after all, and it had little to do with my sparkling personality or my patience.” His show of temper rendered me silent but not stupid. He slowed his breathing and appeared to fight to rein in his temper.

A single word caught my attention and I sat up slowly. “You’ve been released?”

He shut down, his eyes shuttering the betrayal of his emotions. Cain’s gaze chilled. For the first time I could imagine him as a gladiator, the cold indifference radiating from him, the brutal judgment calls and the ease with which he embraced violence. I supposed those alone were enough to get him sentenced to Sheol. But the incubus in him made no sense, unless he’d been cursed by a high-level demon as either a punishment or some sort of sick joke.

Unable to reconcile the thoughts pinging around in my head, I inched by him and headed to the bathroom.

“Breakfast will be ready in five,” he said, voice cold and flat.

Anxiety laced liberally with distrust that bordered on fear forced me to rush the last couple of steps past him to the bathroom. I nodded my head, refused to look at him. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“There are two things at the top of the stairs, Cain.” My own temper salted my words. “I’m either going to the bathroom or going to the bedroom. Of course, I suppose I could go to the bathroom in the bedroom, to mix up the routine if I’m becoming too predictable.” I glared at him harder as his lips twitched and warmth crept back into his eyes. “So given that I’m not telling you where I’m going and you have now embarrassed me, it’s only logical to assume I’m headed to the bathroom.” He said nothing, just stood there watching me. I growled in frustration and slammed the thin door to the bathroom. I decided to take my time, get my own temper in check, so I brushed my teeth and washed my face before emerging. A place setting for one occupied the tiny kitchen bar. Cain was nowhere to be found. The front door wasn’t latched, so I peaked out.

He’d carried his breakfast outside despite the cold and sat in a large, canvas camp chair, head tilted back so the sun bathed his face. A small grin tugged at his lips. At first I thought he was teasing me but the longer I stood there, the more it became clear he was simply appreciating the sun.

And what would you do, my conscience whispered, if you couldn’t get out of bed, free, every day? If you weren’t able to turn your face to the wind, or smell the rain before the storm, what then? And if you’d been deprived of sunlight only to find yourself suddenly able to bask at your leisure, what would you do?

“I’d glory in it, too,” I whispered.

“Every day it shines.” Cain’s voice was as soft as mine had been.

“Did you miss it?” My voice was still soft, scared to disrupt the moment.

“Yeah.” He sighed and slid down in his seat just a bit, tilting his chin higher. A small smile broke free and he looked so…so…happy.

Cain’s overwhelming reverence moved me, stirred something in me, and I wanted to reach out to him. At the same time, I didn’t want to destroy the comfortable silence between us. The emotion was nearly palpable, so rich and genuine and raw, and I saw him as more than a monster. For the very first time, I saw Cain as a man—a living, breathing, desirable man.

The need to know more about him overwhelmed me. Who had he been? Who was he now? What was his greatest hope? What was his greatest fear? What did he see when he looked at me?

That last question rattled me, knocking loose emotions long wedged into dark, long-neglected corners of my mind. Thoughts like that were neither safe nor realistic. He was an incubus. He needed intimate touch. I could never touch him. At all. That truth was a vicious blade wielded by my own reality, cutting me on so many unexpected levels I ended up emotionally filleted. I would have given anything in that moment to be able to touch him, would have pleaded with him to touch me in return and fill up that ever-present void nothing seemed to fill.

Though he couldn’t see me, I nodded, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood. Pain I could relate to. I eased back inside the trailer and pulled the door shut. My breakfast had cooled so I reheated it and curled up on the sofa. All interest in food past, I flipped the television on and let some mind-numbing talk show serve as background noise for thinking.

CAIN CAME IN ROUGHLY two hours later, dumped his plate in the sink and turned to lean against the counter’s edge. “K stopped by. We’re back to work tonight.” His voice was smooth, unconcerned.

“Why didn’t he come inside? I didn’t get fired?” I blurted, shooting to my feet.

His eyes narrowed and he watched me carefully. “Why would K fire you for getting your ass kicked?”

“No reason,” I mumbled. He started to press and I turned away. “It’s between me and him, so forget it. Are you still assigned to my tent?”

“Seeing as I moved you into my trailer, slept on the floor and made you breakfast, it’s relatively safe to assume I’m still assigned to you.” He chuckled. “Truth be told, this is the closest I’ve ever come to living with a woman.”

I choked on my orange juice and the demon laughed, taking the glass from me and finishing the last sip, his gaze never leaving mine.

With a slow blink, Cain moved to the sofa. He sank down, legs stretched out in front of him and I couldn’t stop the way my eyes wandered up the front of his body. Yeah, he might be off limits even more than most, but looking at him was like window shopping. I couldn’t help but admire the beautiful things behind the glass. No matter that I didn’t need them and couldn’t afford them, they were still worth looking at.

The demon grinned and shifted his hips to draw my attention.

I blushed and turned away.

Cain picked up the remote and casually began to flip through the television channels. “Nervous?”

I wasn’t sure if he was referring to going back to work or about his overwhelming sexuality, so I just shook my head, mute.

He chuckled. “Liar. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’ve got this covered.” The demon stretched and I heard joints pop as his muscles shook then relaxed. A knock at the door startled us both. I turned to answer it and he barked at me. “Stop.”

My hand immediately fell from the door and I spun to look at him. “What?”

“You haven’t had a single visitor in three days. Go to the bedroom and shut the door. I’ll get it.”

“Surely you don’t think someone would come to your trailer looking for me during the day.”

“Sunlight is a novelty, angel, not a guarantee of security or good will. Never forget it. Go.” He stood and stepped toward me as a second, more insistent knock at the door sounded. With a small push, he sent me into the room to wait or, depending on perspective, hide.

I’m ashamed to say that, with the darkest of the bruises from my beating just fading, I went, shutting the door and crouching behind it to listen.

CHAPTER NINE

“WHAT?” CAIN SNARLED AS he threw open the door.

“Not the reception I was hoping for, but I suppose we have to start somewhere.” A feminine voice greeted him with a warm purr. “It looks like you’re in need of a mood lifter, and I’m just the woman to do it for you.”

The trailer shifted slightly as someone ascended the steps, and I heard the rustle of plastic and fabric as it was tossed down. Silence and a little heavy breathing followed a brief tussle. I pressed my ear harder to the door, trying to figure out what was happening.

“Nice of you to offer, but this isn’t the time,” Cain rumbled, deflecting her. A faint thump sounded. “I’ve said no once, and politely. Next time won’t be nice. Did you find anything out about the Key?”

“C’mon, you can play rough with me, Cain,” the woman said in a sultry voice full of promise. “I can take it. Then we’ll discuss what I found out about the Key.”

Another thump. “I asked you about the Key, and I wasn’t making idle fucking conversation. What did you find out?”

I’d heard enough to know there wasn’t a threat. I pulled the bedroom door open to find a large bundle of clothes laying on the floor near the door, disregarded like thrift store donations. Cain had his hands full of the seamstress from the city, Amber, encouraging her to back off without hurting her. Amber’s hand gripped the demon’s crotch. His hand was on her wrist, tight enough to stretch the skin to white over his knuckles, and his arms shook with the need to react. Honestly, though, I wasn’t sure what he’d have done given my absence. Corded neck and clenched jaw were snapshots of the moment, but it was his face I’d never forget. He looked like a cornered animal, and my heart broke for him. A slave to his lusts, he was never free of them, not even for a moment. His eyes darted to me and he shook his head but it didn’t matter. I’d shared the sunshine with him, looked deeper into myself in that brief moment than I was comfortable admitting, and seen the potential in the man behind the demon’s facade. He had roused my compassion. No one got that close to me without beginning to matter, even a little.

“I think he was pretty clear about not wanting your brand of affection.” My voice was like the lash of a whip to the ear. The seamstress spun to face me, the look of shock on her face both gratifying and insulting. Her hand continued to massage him and I arched a brow. “Really, Amber? That’s sort of pathetic.”

She hissed but didn’t move, just stood there massaging Cain’s groin and glaring at me.

Cain’s need, clearly becoming an issue, disturbed me a little. I mean, he could have pushed her off as threatened, shoved her outside, locked her out—something. But he stood there, hands now clenched at his sides, breathing hard as his eyes darted back and forth between me and the other woman.

The other woman.

I snorted. I’d have to be Cain’s woman in order to make Amber the “other” in this equation, and I was so not that to him. I never would be. “Fair enough. I don’t want to interrupt.” I bit the words out in sharp syllables and turned to leave.

“Dani.” Cain’s voice was desperate. Whether he wanted me to leave or simply wanted my understanding, I wasn’t sure, but it became clear to me in that moment just how much he wanted information on the Key and how far he’d go to get it.

I shook my head, frustrated. “The last thing you need is my permission, Cain.” I crossed to the door and skipped down the steps. “Get on with your bad self.” The walk to my trailer was tunnel-like and surreal. It only took a second to dig the hidden key out of the potted mums near the steps. My hands were hot, incredibly hot, though my feet were still cold in my ratty slippers. The metal key softened in my hands and I stared, horrified. Looking up I saw an old skeleton key taped to my door. Its metal softened immediately when I pulled it down. What the hell?

“Dani.” Cain jogged toward me.

Crossing my forearms on the trailer’s side and hiding both keys in my fisted hand, I laid my head against my arms. “Not now, Cain.”

“Yes, now,” he demanded.

“You’ve got company. Now doesn’t seem like the best time to discuss whatever drove you to leave Amber waiting for your return. Oh, that’s right. A little bit of you in exchange for a little bit of information on your treasure hunt.” He laid a hand on my shoulder and I jerked away. “Don’t.”

“You need to understand this isn’t something I have any say over.”

Throat tight, I barked out a short laugh. “Forget it, Cain. I’m clearly impeding both your hunt and feeding schedule. I get that now, so I’ll leave you to it.” It was safer to stop this ridiculous dance now, before someone’s toes were smashed. I mean, face it—I wasn’t his typical bedmate. Even if I were, he’d never have the potential for a long-term relationship. We were as far from each other as Sheol was from Malkuth, and in more than just this fundamental issue. No, reining in whatever spark the morning had ignited proved the best—the only—option. Once again, dreams had no place in my reality.

He grabbed my upper arm as I pushed off the door and spun me to face him. “Don’t you dare presume to know what I want or need, sweetheart.” The endearment fell from his lips like a physical blow with below-the-belt delivery. “We’re back to work tonight. I’ll pick you up at six. Sort out whatever you need to sort out, because I’m coming for you then.”

It sounded like such a veiled threat that I looked back at him only to find his eyes burning more orange than blue as he backed away from me.

Spinning on his heel, he turned and stalked back to his trailer, taking the stairs two at a time and slamming the door shut behind him.

It galled me to realize I had no idea whether or not Amber was still inside or not. And while it was none of my business, my mind refused to stop barreling down the path of seduction she had clearly intended to forge. I could imagine the two of them writhing on the sheets I’d vacated only a few hours ago. The thought made me sick. Slamming my hand into the door, I shoved the mangled door key into the lock, grateful it opened. The bitingly cool air yet untouched by the sun’s warmth washed over me as I stepped into my little box trailer. After the luxury of Cain’s home, my space appeared starker than ever.

Screw him, I thought.

And that, right there, my conscious whispered, is the problem.

Someone else was.

THE DAY PASSED IN a fit of stops and starts. It seemed the hands on my watch would speed forward only to hit random time vacuums where they crept along at a slug’s pace. I cleaned my trailer top to bottom, even going outside to get the single window washed. I was surprised to find a new heater had been installed, though I didn’t notice it until I tripped over the cord. Racing back inside, I played with the settings and reveled in the quiet hum of the appliance. New. I’d never had anything like this brand new. Pride warred with practicality, demanding I repay either Khavien or Cain—who else would have done this?—while common sense told me I should be more concerned about the hidden consequences. I mean, I could have bought a used one and saved a ton of money. The debate raged on as I finished my chores and hauled dirty laundry over to the Commons to use the beat up machines the Fair provided.

When everything was done, I found myself with a couple of hours on my hands. I wasn’t sure what to do. Normally I’d sit on my steps and watch the activity of the Fair, read a book or take a walk. Right now, though, all I wanted to do was sleep. I crawled in bed and pulled the covers up to my chin, snuggling in. Eyes heavy, I set my alarm before I let my mind wander.

The worst of my wounds had nearly healed, surprising me. I’d never recovered so fast before but I wasn’t about to point that out to anyone. All I needed was the doctor poking and prodding at me and doing blood work to track down the source of the change. I snorted. Khavien would be all over the guy to identify my breeding, but I was pretty sure that the test would only, could only, come back inconclusive. Unless they’d cornered an archangel and convinced him or her to hand over DNA, medicine would never figure me out.

Regardless, something was happening and I didn’t know what it was. If I was going to be honest, it scared me. I had run through all the different options I could imagine, from severely delayed puberty to infectious disease, and nothing made sense. I wished for what felt like the millionth time for my mother. Adult or not, I still craved the reassurance I was sure she’d bring. The recent dream only made the longing for her all the more bittersweet.

The length of shadows had changed when I opened my eyes again. Stretching, I realized I’d taken a bona fide nap and grinned. This never happened. To have the time to rest? To sleep when I needed to sleep? It felt self-indulgent. My stomach rumbled, protesting the length of time between breakfast and late afternoon. It was only four steps to the tiny kitchen where I foraged for something easy. An apple and scoop of peanut butter on a spoon seemed reasonable, and fast, so I scarfed them down. They turned to a ball of lead in my gut when the knock sounded at my door.

“Open up.” Cain’s voice was as brisk.

Moving to the door, I unlocked it and opened it slowly.

Cain stood there with the plastic covered costumes slung over his arm. “You need to try these on and make sure they fit. Amber can alter them if they don’t.”

Amber. Right. “Is she still here or can I try them on later?”

“She’s not here but said she’d be more than happy to come back and fit them for you.” His voice was disconnected, almost flat, as he handed the clothes over. I took them, careful not to let our hands brush.

“I’m sure she’d love to come back for me.” I’d meant to barb him, but the words, while all right, were delivered in a soft tone that was all wrong.

Cain exploded into action, hauling himself into my trailer and slamming the door shut behind him. He stood in front of me, trembling with violent emotion.

I stumbled back, dropping the clothes on the floor and backing into the counter. I’d verbally sparred with him before with no significant reaction, yet this was definitely significant.

He bent down and swept the bundle of clothes off the floor and tossed them to the unmade bed. His eyes lingered there before turning back to me, the orange nearly gone, replaced by a brilliant blue. The demon moved toward me slowly but three steps were still three steps and he invaded my personal space in a heartbeat’s time.

Pinned in the corner, I was nothing but bait. I started to move but he angled his body so that no matter which way I went, I’d have to rub against him to get by. My hands automatically went behind me and I leaned on them, pressing them against the short length of counter. A fine tremor raced through my body.

“You promised you’d never force me,” I mumbled.

“Huh?”

“In the car. You promised.” I stood a little straighter, ashamed he had me cowering in my own home. He was a man, and I’d handled men for years. “You’re either as good as your word or you’re not. Which is it?”

“False bravado isn’t becoming, angel,” he snapped, reaching toward me.

I winced and he froze, our arms touching.

“You think I’d hurt you?” he demanded in a chilled voice, slowly retrieving the last slice of apple he’d been after. When I didn’t answer, he threw the fruit down and grabbed my shoulder. “Answer me, Dani. No tricks, no evasion, no bullshit.”

“You’re hurting me now.” I shrugged his hand off and couldn’t stop myself from rubbing the shoulder he’d gripped so hard.

“You know what? You’re a complication—a complication I don’t need.” Shaking his head, he turned for the door. “I’m here for one person and one person only.”

Complication. My mind fixated on that one word. I’d been a complication in so many people’s lives and every one of them had walked out on me, just like he was about to do. My heart hardened and I choked, my eyes burning. Memories of the fight with Khavien roared to the front of my mind and I whirled away to face the wall. “Get out.”

“Excuse me?” Cain must have opened the door and paused because the sounds of the Fair were louder.

“Get. Out.” Breathing slowly, I turned to face him, sure my eyes were brighter than normal. “You said it yourself, Cain. I’m a complication, nothing more, nothing less. It should be easy enough to walk down those steps and get done what you need to do in order to leave. Make it easy on both of us and hurry up.”

He started to say something and I waved him off, moving to my bed. My alarm went off with a screech and we both jumped. I slammed my hand down on the snooze button and cracked the plastic case. Damn it.

“Be ready at six.” The door shut softly behind him, and I was alone.

Again.

NERVES HAD ME ON edge and nothing seemed to go right as I got ready for work. I cut myself shaving. My hair wouldn’t dry. I stabbed myself in the eye with my mascara right before I sneezed. I didn’t have much choice other than take my make-up off and start over. The whole day required a stress-reducing, deep-breathing exercise. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time.

Make-up finally finished, I knotted my hair on top of my head and let the ponytail hang from my crown. I felt like that woman on “I Dream of Genie.” I wiggled my nose but nothing happened.

I pulled out the copper-colored silk outfit. A tight-fitted sleeveless top with a side zipper and harem pants with boy shorts, sheer pant legs and jeweled ankle cuffs made up the ensemble. I slipped my feet into matching silk slippers and tried not to focus on how bare to the world the “clothes” left me. Normally conservative in my dress as it was, this felt like harem-wear, not a uniform. Smoothing my hands over the fabric was an indulgence, though, and for all I couldn’t stand the bat-shit-crazy seamstress, she’d done a fantastic job.

A knock on my door made me jump. No one called out a greeting so I bent close to the fisheye and peered out. Cain stood staring back, a look of impatience decorating his face. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open, unsure what the general mood would be between us after our harsh exchange.

He looked up and sucked in his breath, running his eyes over every inch of me.

I lifted my chin a bit when he didn’t say anything and started down the steps. I might be nearly naked but by the Holy, I wasn’t going to let him embarrass me.

“Should cover you up for the good of all freaks and norms alike,” the demon muttered, slamming my steps into their retracted position.

A small part of me I was unfamiliar with preened while the rest of me mentally stuttered and stumbled over the compliment. Did I say thank you? Screw you? What was socially acceptable in this situation? It wasn’t an Emily Post topic, that was for sure. I slapped a hand over my mouth when a small laugh escaped.

“I’m afraid to even ask what you’re laughing at.” Cain laid his hand on my bare lower back. Heat arced between us.

I stepped out of his reach, and he dropped his hand without a word.

The walk to Ticket Takers’ Alley was quiet as we moved through the building crowds. Several men looked me over, clearly interested, and a couple whistled long and low. Cain snarled at every one of them.

“You need a coat. A long coat. Preferably a trench coat,” he muttered. “You’re going to start a riot and I’m going to have to kill someone.”

I choked, unsure whether he was joking or not. Shaking my head, I sped up as we approached the tent. Khavien was suspiciously absent and my heart fell just a little. Part of me had hoped he’d be here while a shamefully larger part of me hoped he would stay away. If he wasn’t here, he couldn’t question me on what had happened.

Cain took up his position outside the tent without a word at the same time I slipped inside, moving behind the table as I self-consciously adjusted my ponytail. Nervous habit. Closing my eyes, I issued a short, silent prayer that I’d get through the night without anything strange or violent happening. Without warning or unnecessary fanfare, the tent flap flipped back and my first customer of the evening walked in.

Show time.

CHAPTER TEN

THE EVENING WAS A general nightmare. Visions of death came clearer while other things were softer, less certain. It required a lot of acting and more than once I wished I had a crystal ball as a prop just to stall for time in answering people. One way or another, it seemed everyone who came in had a pressing calendar date with Death, and delivering the news was more difficult for its immediacy. It all left me emotionally drained and craving the privacy of my trailer. My only chance to feel normal again seemed to involve uninterrupted hours to sleep off the dregs of doom that clung to me like vapor.

My final customer came in, head down, face hidden by the broad brim of a hat. The man was about my height, maybe a tad shorter. He slid into the seat across from me with a sort of feline grace no norm would have been able to pull off. It marked him “other.” A freak. Reading freaks was almost always more difficult than reading norms. I silently cursed my luck.

He removed his hat and settled it on the corner of the table with odd deliberation. An unremarkable fellow, he had the type of face you’d look at full on and then not be able to describe to a police sketch artist after the crime. His voice was mid-range, smooth, when he said, “You’re the resident fortune teller then.”

I gave what could only have been a grim smile and nodded. “I am.” Pushing aside my general irritation, I dropped my chin to my chest and slid my hands across the table, wiggling my fingers to indicate he should give me his hands. When nothing happened, I looked up and was startled to finding him staring at me, head cocked to the side, a small smile gracing full lips.

“You’re better looking than I thought you’d be, particularly in the light.”

Confused, I shook my head. “In the light?” His smile spread and became predatory. I shifted uncomfortably as he continued to stare at me without answering. My back began to itch.

The stranger finally held out his hands and turned them over slowly so his palms faced up. In the center of each was a tattooed baphomet, a symbol of Sheol reputed to have different levels of power and influence on the owner based on his relationship with the Dark Prince.

I hesitated. What would those symbols mean for me if I touched his hands with mine? What would they expose me to? Would it open me to things better left alone or was it posturing by this unknown freak? A good look at him, with his heavily muscled shoulders, low brow and orange-flecked eyes made him very legitimate from my perspective.

“You’re stalling.” His voice taunted me, challenged me to take his hands.

Somewhere inside me a switch flipped and I had to fight to keep myself seated. Primal instinct warred with my rationale, and all I wanted to do was get away. Fear skittered up my spine. Cold sweat popped out along my hairline and dotted my upper lip. My heart rate increased as adrenaline flooded my system and my fine muscles twitched. The urge to scrape the skin off my itching back was overwhelming. I’d never had this reaction to anyone before. Glancing from his hands to his eyes and back again, I slid my hands slowly over the table. He shocked the shit out of me by grabbing them and pulling them close enough to him that my torso was pressed into the table and my arms were fully extended. I jerked but he had a firm grip and clearly had no intent of letting go.

“Let’s see what you’re made of, kid,” he whispered, smiling.

Darkness sucked me down with a screaming pull. A miasma of violence crashed into me as the walls around me bled, screams ringing through my head. This man was Deliverance, and he brought Death with him. I couldn’t piece together what it meant, couldn’t understand how he delivered Death as a literal being. Vaguely, almost in another consciousness, I was aware of his hands tightening on mine.

“No,” I choked out.

Fight or die.

It rang through my head like a gong. I fought. Yanking at his grasp, my hands slipped and weren’t pressed firmly to his tattoos. He struggled to reestablish the connection but I refused to sit idle. I continued to pull as he growled at me, and then I went completely lax. His grip loosened as he moved to resituate his hands and I whipped mine back hard enough I nearly toppled over backward.

“Don’t touch me,” I spat, shaking. How the hell had this asshole made it past Cain?

He shrugged, a picture of benign indifference. “You can either tell my future or I can tell yours. I’m afraid you won’t like your storyline, though. It doesn’t have a happy ending.”

I thought for a second I’d throw up, but I managed to hold my stomach. “Get out.”

“We’re not done.”

I was shaking now, unable to hide my reaction. “Yeah, we are.”

“I want my future, and somehow I think you’re the only one to give it to me.”

“Yeah? Then here you go. It involves the bouncer at the front door and a little bloodshed if you don’t get your ass out of here right now.”

He chuckled. “You think so? Then by all means, call him in.”

I was done. No way was I staying in here with this guy alone. “Cain!” Fear was clear in my voice as I called for him.

The tent flap flipped back and he stormed inside, eyes raking across the interior as he sought the threat. The demon seated across from me looked up and I saw the recognition on Cain’s face.

“How the hell did you get by me?” Cain demanded as he hauled the smaller male to his feet by his shirt.

The stranger’s eyes slid to me and he blinked slowly. “You’re priorities are seriously fucked up and you’re losing your objectivity. That I could get in here without you noticing says something. That you’re ready to turn your back on the job for a piece of ass says even more.”

Cain shoved him and the stranger’s eyes flared orange as he stumbled back. “You need to remember who you work for, Tarron. I’m your boss, valsché, and you follow my directive, not the other way around. I told you before that until you beat me, you answer to me. And while you answer to me, you’re to leave this alone.”

“I work for the Lord of Sheol and so do you,” Tarron snarled. “Our job is to find the Key, which we’ve done. Your hesitation means nothing in the face of truth.” He turned and looked me over in a purely sexual manner. “I’ll admit I can see the attraction to playing slap and tickle with the local talent, though.”

The Key. My stomach knotted impossibly. I looked between the two demons standing in front of me and swallowed compulsively. “Cain?”

Tarron moved close enough I could smell his pungent breath with every exhale. “Is your name Ambriel?”

“Who?” I asked, genuinely confused. The uncomfortable sensation that I meant less to this man than the ant that crawled across the toe of my slipper was incredibly clear. He would crush me as easily and with as little thought for my death as he would that insect. I don’t know how I knew it with such certainty, but my entire sense of self-preservation told me to lie, cheat, steal, run—whatever I had to do to get away from this creature. My back writhed so hard I gasped, and Tarron watched me closely for clues regarding the sound of distress.

I looked nervously at Cain. “I’d like to go. Now.”

Cain stared at me for an unblinking moment before jerking his chin to the doorway. I did my best not to run for it, narrowly reining in my inexplicable fear. I wanted away from Cain’s creepy associate and, at the same time, I didn’t want him behind me.

Tarron’s hand shot out and grabbed me around the upper arm, spinning me around and shoving me chest-first into one of the tent poles. He ripped the back of my shirt open and roughly dug fingertips into my shoulders.

I twisted, putting the pole between me and both demons at the same time Cain tore him off me.

“Lay hands on her again and I’ll burn your tongue out of your mouth with hot tongs,” Cain snarled. “I’ll handle this myself.”

“I’m telling you, man, you’re letting the action get in the way of the bigger prize. No one sucks cock well enough to risk—”

Cain punched Tarron hard enough I heard the smaller demon’s jaw break and bones in his neck snap. Tarron went down in a heap of fine clothes and blood spatter.

Looking over his shoulder, eyes orange and pupils red, Cain unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it to me. “Put this on.” His voice sounded like it had been dragged through gravel and left to die.

I slipped into the silk shirt and wrapped it around me carefully. “Who is he?” The question rushed out on a single breath.

Rolling his shoulders, he stared at the downed demon. “Stand outside. I’ll be there in a minute.” The man at his feet started to stir. “Just stand there, Dani. I mean it. Don’t leave.”

“Save the barked orders for your toy soldiers.” I stepped around the still-crumpled body on the ground. “You’ve found the Key. What is it?”

Cain moved well inside my personal space and glared down at me. Ignoring my question, he said, “Right now, I’m the only thing standing between you and death at his hands. Even if he’s wrong, killing you will mean nothing to him. So either play this my way or tell me to kiss off and you can handle this yourself. Your choice.”

I swallowed hard, nodded and stepped outside the doorway. Normally I’d balk at anyone telling me what to do, let alone how to do it. But if I had to tolerate a little of Cain’s shitty attitude to keep me safe until I was locked in my trailer, it was a small price for my pride to pay. Better the devil you know and all that. I stepped outside.

The people moving by me hazarded random glances and I found myself anxious to get away from here despite Cain’s warning. The thought of crossing the performers’ field so recently after the attack was almost no deterrent at all, particularly when compared to the vibe the guy on the floor inside was giving off. Just as I pushed off the corner pole to leave, the flap was thrown back and both men exited.

Tarron searched my face, seemingly memorizing my features, as he moved past me. I shuddered and he grinned viciously, his jaw hanging crooked, head listing to one side. “Smart girl,” he slurred before disappearing into the crowd.

Cain stepped up close to me and grabbed my arm, easing his grip when I winced but he didn’t let go.

“Move it, Dani.” The crush of people parted in front of him, his massive, scarred chest more effective than a billboard announcing his badassery. Scars like his weren’t earned in flag football. Strangers would glance at him and look away quickly as if uncomfortable with the clear stories of violence Cain’s scars told. At least they weren’t caught up in his grasp.

We wove our way through Ticket Takers’ Alley and then cut behind the big top to head toward the trailers. He stepped up the pace when we hit the performers’ field, his eyes roving back and forth as he marched me forward.

I started to open my mouth to speak but he gave me a small, hard shake. “Not a word.”

“But—”

“What part of that didn’t you get?” he snarled, pushing me forward faster.

Despite my long legs, I had to almost jog to match his pace. He kept it up until we got to my trailer. Cain dug the partially mangled key out of the potted plan next to the door and opened the lock without comment.

“Inside. Now.”

I climbed the steps, slightly fearful of the demon following me. Before I could turn to face him, he yanked me around, grasped my chin, and lifted my face, examining me closely.

Chest heaving, he shoved me away. “I’m going to give you one chance to prove he’s wrong, Dani. Tell me who your parents are.”

Evade. “What do my parents have to do with this?”

He let out a roar that shook the walls of the little trailer. I clapped my hands over my ears at the same time I watched with sick fascination as muscles moved under his skin. Bending at the waist, hands on his knees, he snarled. Shoving up, he plowed into the single globe light in the place, shattering the glass with a crack and a loud curse. It was impossibly dark and surprisingly claustrophobic knowing he was there.

Starbursts of light clouded my vision, rendering my eyes useless. “Cain?”

“Answer me, Dani.”

I’m not sure what compelled me to defy him—I’ll probably always blame it on the darkness—but I pulled his shirt off and threw it in the general direction of his voice. The sound of the silk slithering down his skin was terrifying and erotic and dangerous. My breathing was short, shallow. A sense of surrealism took over as I grew light-headed. “No.” The power in that single word, delivered almost inaudibly, stunned us both.

“I’m going to give you twenty-four hours to change your mind,” he said, stepping in close to me. “You’re going to willingly tell me everything I want to know about your background or, so help me, Dani, I will force it out of you in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.”

My legs shocked the crap out of me by crumpling and I sank to the floor in front of my bed. I may have stopped breathing. All I know for sure is that his next words set the rest of my life in motion.

“I’ll be watching your trailer tonight, so don’t think about running. If you do, Dani? So help me, if you do, I will find you. There is nowhere you can go that I can’t find you.”

Moonlight slid through the doorway as he stepped outside. The click of the latch was like a gunshot and I jerked.

I was fucked.

TIME MOCKED ME, MOVING with unnatural lethargy—second to second, minute to minute. Exhaustion overwhelmed me just as the small piece of sky I could see began to turn pink. Sleep finally, mercifully pulled me under as that same pink faded to daylight.

I NEARLY CAME OUT of my skin when someone pounded on my door. It felt like I’d only been asleep for minutes. Only one person shook my trailer like that. Cain.

“I swear to the Holy, I’m going to cut his hands off and staple them to his door,” I muttered as I unfolded off the floor.

“Get up,” he barked.

“Screw you! I’ll get up when I’m good and ready.”

“Suit yourself. Be at Khavien’s office in ten.”

I groaned. Just what I didn’t need—a showdown with Khavien as a warm-up to my showdown with Cain. Dread worked its way through my chest like icy fingers, weaving through my ribs like cold webbing. I wished for the thousandth time in my life that I could have willingly seen my own future, even hazy as it would have been unless death was imminent. Skirting glass I’d have to clean up later, I dressed as fast as I could. In a last minute decision, I grabbed my purse and shoved my emergency cash in the bag. I hustled out the door, already ten minutes late.

Several people called out warm greetings as I made my way to K’s office. I hadn’t seen him in a few days, not since the whole spider monkey incident. He’d clearly been around but had avoided me. I didn’t know whether to go to the meeting or not. I stopped, waffled and decided to turn back when a hand snatched me under the arm and propelled me forward.

“Oh no you don’t, angel. You don’t get to sneak off just because this is going to be uncomfortable.”

Under Cain’s direction once again, I found myself nearly jogging as he pushed me along, always a step in front of him, surfing the wave of his anger. Struggling to get my arm back, I twisted and turned until he nearly picked me up and carried me.

I laughed, sharp and short as K’s trailer came into view. “Seems you need to contact your local Meals-on-Wheels, Incubus Division, and have a little snack delivered. Your testosterone’s awfully high.”

Cain jerked me to a halt and kept me facing Khavien’s office door. With a shove, he sent me up the first two steps,

I stumbled but Cain turned his back on me, letting me recover or fall on my own. He stood guard at the bottom of the stairway. So it was going to be one of those meetings. I sighed, straightened my clothes, and went inside.

KHAVIEN SAT BEHIND HIS desk, his face cold. “Sit.” No greeting, no comment on the cost of the new uniforms, nothing. “When were you going to tell me what you are?” It took a minute for his question to sink in.

I cleared my throat twice, opening my mouth to speak but nothing would come out. What could I say? “Khavien, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. But I can’t give you specifics.”

He slammed his fists on his desk. “No more bullshit, Dani. You’ve been here six years and I’ve not pushed. You tell me now or you’re fired and…” He looked away and swallowed hard. “Tell me now. Don’t make this worse than it has to be.”

My eyes narrowed and lips thinned to keep them from trembling or screaming. I wasn’t sure which. “Are you threatening me?” I whispered.

“Let’s not take it there. Not yet.” He got up and walked to the small wet bar, poured himself a drink, tossed it back and exhaled sharply. He had his back to me when he asked, “Were you not going to see if I was all right?”

“I…yeah.” It wasn’t a complete lie. I had intended to follow up with him, but so much had happened. “I just got, um. Shit, K, I don’t want to discuss this.”

“You don’t need to.” He turned to face me, leaned back against the counter.

I opened my mouth to speak then snapped it closed.

“I know you’re some type of angel. Admit it.”

I shook my head. “I’m not an angel.”

“Don’t lie!” K hurled his glass against the wall and I ducked as it shattered to the left of my head, slivers of glass raining down in brief storm. “You burned the shit out of me, Dani. Only archangels are capable of the level of damage you caused. You owe me the truth as your friend if nothing else, but I’ll demand it as your boss.” He stared at me; I stared back. Finally, I nodded and he came to stand in front of me.

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “Tell me you haven’t told Cain.” The memory of his fury was all too fresh and had my muscles twitching with the urge to break and run.

“I haven’t told him.”

Thank the Holy.

K leaned forward. “Give me your pedigree. Now, or I’ll call Cain in here and be done with this.”

My limbs shook as I stood. I didn’t want K looming over me. “My mother was a banshee. My father is an archangel. Aren’t you glad you asked?” My voice echoed slightly, strange hissing sounds bouncing around inside my skull. I shook my head and tapped the heel of one hand on an ear. What the hell?

“Why the fuck did you not say anything before you nearly killed me?” K roared, shoving past me as he headed back to the small sideboard and poured himself a fresh splash of Scotch, tossing it back. Rolling the new glass back and forth between his palms, he watched me intently.

“It’s not exactly dinner conversation, now is it?” I sat in the chair closest to me and dropped my head into my hands.

“Which archangel is he?” he asked quietly, and I knew exactly what he meant.

“The Angel of Death,” I whispered. And then I said the name I hadn’t uttered in more than twenty years. “Samil.”

Khavien gracefully dropped into his chair and whistled low. “You’re damn near literally damned royalty.”

“Get the idea of royalty right out of your head. And what do you mean ‘damned’?”

Khavien shrugged. “I only get rumblings from the underworld, but this was big news. You can’t tell me you didn’t know.” When I didn’t answer, Khavien narrowed his eyes. “You’re going to try and convince me you didn’t know your father was cast out of Malkuth?”

The room pitched to one side and I nearly fell out of my seat. I gripped the arms of the chair and set my feet flat on the floor, focused solely on staying upright.

He snorted. “You really didn’t know.” A glimpse of compassion crossed his face before he ruthlessly shoved it away. “Why aren’t you in touch with dear old dad?”

“I was as close to an unwanted child as you could get between two beings who loved each other. They abandoned me at age eight, and when you run out on your kid, you don’t exactly leave a forwarding address.” I shifted so I wasn’t facing him quite so directly. “I’m no one’s daughter. Not anymore. Forget the relation.” It was meant to be a verbal slap but it came out as more a broken statement about a miserable truth.

“Can’t unknow what you know, Dani.” He shook his head and looked away, shoved his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders in defense. Regret played clear on his features. “I’m sorry for what’s going to happen, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it at this point.” He looked up and unfiltered regret showed before he got his own emotion under control.

“What have you done?” My lips felt numb and the words poorly formed.

“Do you know what Cain is? He told you that day.” Khavien stood up and moved around his desk again, coming to stop in front of me. He crossed his arms and stared.

What did I have to lose? “He’s a predatory incubus.”

His voice dropped low enough I had to lean in to hear. “What does a predatory incubus do, Dani?”

When I opened my mouth to answer him, K made a near-silent shushing noise. I lowered my voice, realizing we were talking softly so Cain didn’t overhear.

Something made me rethink the answer I’d been about to offer, amending it to, “He never explained it.” True, I thought, but only if you looked at it from the corner of your non-dominant eye.

“They’re the most unique of Lucifer’s killers. They usually lead a team of demons to find someone or something and, when they do, they obtain it or kill it. Guess what his current orders are?”

My skin had gone as cold as my lips. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move.

“It all makes sense now, doesn’t it? Daddy wants you home, Dani. The condition in which you arrive is irrelevant. Cain’s been hired to obtain you.” He laughed but it was a humorless sound. “I thought he just wanted an angel, any angel, but it’s you he’s most interested in. It’s you who holds the fascination for your father. I wonder why he’s seeking a reunion? Any idea?”

“No,” I whispered. “And Cain isn’t after me, K. He wanted someone named Ambriel.”

Khavien lifted an eyebrow and tilted his glass toward me in a mock salute. “Just about has to be you.”

A violent shudder wracked my body. “Why would you do this to me?” I couldn’t process what he was telling me. No. I wouldn’t go. I’d do whatever I had to do, but I wasn’t going to Sheol just to appease some long misplaced sense of paternal obligation.

He looked away, hunching his shoulders and reaching for his Scotch. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated,” I repeated. “Why does Samil want me? Is that ‘complicated,’ too?”

“Cain wouldn’t discuss it.” Khavien leaned forward. “But he suspects. Some fellow who works for him came by the Alley last night, didn’t he?”

I nodded. Tarron. He’d wanted something with me. I’d assumed it was malicious; turned out it was much more than that.

“He’s clued in and wanted to meet you to confirm his suspicions. He’s laid the responsibility of proving him wrong at Cain’s feet. If Cain doesn’t do it, the guy’s going to return to Sheol and report your whereabouts.” A ghost of emotion passed over K’s face. “I have a responsibility to my freaks, Dani. I can’t bring Samil here. I won’t. I’m going to give you a thirty-minute head start. It’s the best I can do.”

“Thirty minutes?” I hissed. “That’s as helpful as a windshield wiper on a goat’s ass, Khavien. He’ll have me caught before I can hitch a ride.”

He dug through his desk and pulled out a set of keys, counted through them, and peeled one off the ring. Tossing it to me he said, “Get to the storage facility on Highway 24. Brown building, green metal roof. My code is 3-6-0-9. Unit ID is the first three numbers. There’s a fast car that will get you anywhere you need to go.” I opened my mouth to argue but he shushed me with a slashing motion. “Don’t. Now go. End of the hall, out the back door.”

And that was, undoubtedly, as close to an apology as I’d get from Khavien.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I SNUCK DOWN THE hall as Khavien kept talking to the now-empty room, faking the ongoing conversation. I heard what sounded like a slap and then yelling followed by sharp orders for Cain to stay out. It was the distraction I needed to get out the back door without being caught. I let myself be swept along with the thickening crowd, anxious to stay a part of the masses, unobserved by the freaks. I was lucky, and even luckier when I got to the parking lot. A lone man was crawling up into a truck jacked up high enough to need a permit and oxygen masks. I sprinted up to him and grabbed the door of the truck when he started to pull it closed.

“I’ll give you fifty bucks if you’ll take me to the storage locker on twenty-four.” I fought to keep the sheer desperation out of my voice but I couldn’t help looking back over my shoulder. Death pursued me, and I had to either get this guy to take me or to find someone who would.

The guy looked me over carefully and smiled, revealing a wad of chewing tobacco. Separate grains were wedged in between his teeth and up around his gums. I blanched and his smile faltered, forcing me to up the ante.

“One hundred bucks. Take it or leave it.” I looked back to the fair. “My boyfriend’s pissed and I need to be out of here in 30 seconds.”

“Climb in, babe.” He reached over and unlocked the door from the inside, undoubtedly chivalrous behavior in his own mind. “Where to again?”

Khavien had said Highway 24 but that meant he expected me to go there. “Can you take me to the city?” I dug around in my purse and pulled out another hundred dollar bill.

“Name’s Bobby, lady, and for two large I’ll drop my pants and fuck you in public.” He guffawed at his brand of humor and then spit out the window. We were off.

The highway was relatively empty and, in traditional hindsight, I realized I couldn’t have picked a more inappropriate vehicle in which to make my escape. The truck couldn’t maneuver. It couldn’t outrun Cain’s car. My internal organs were all being rattled and jarred down into my pelvis. Riding in that damn thing at seventy miles an hour could only be likened to trying to ride a park bench through an earthquake. The truck was neither passenger friendly nor inconspicuous. Only the headrest prevented me from bashing my head against the rear window glass.

The driver sang a country tune at the top of his lungs as he tried to match the voice crooning from the radio. This went on mile after mile as I gazed out the window in a near stupor, the rural countryside an unchanging foreign landscape done in shades of green and brown. The city sprang to life around us as he followed the interstate into the urban snarl of cars. He glanced in the rearview mirror and his eyes widened before he looked over his shoulder and changed lanes. The tick of the blinker registered a faint sound, like mouse feet on wood floors, in comparison to the road and radio noise assaulting me.

“Check out this car!” he exclaimed, rubber-necking it to watch death bear down on us.

I sank lower in the seat and reached over to turn the radio down. “Is it black? A black BMW with vanity plates and dark, tinted windows driving ridiculously fast?”

“It’s a freaking hawt black car but I ain’t got no clue what kind. Don’t beemers have them round whirly things on the front?” He continued to stare in the mirror, overcorrecting hard enough once to scare me into a short scream as I envisioned us flipping and rolling down the interstate, a bleeding ball of metallic catastrophe and regret. He laughed.

Nausea overwhelmed me and I started to salivate too much. “Yeah,” I tried to shout. “Beemers have those whirly things on the front.”

He seemed disgruntled to have to tone down the machismo by turning down the radio even further, but it was that or learn to read my lips. “It ain’t that then. It’s some other car—curvier, sexier.”

Nodding, I sank lower.

“You okay?” my getaway driver finally asked. “You think it’s your man?”

I shook my head, afraid of opening my mouth.

“Here she comes!” he shouted. “She’s drivin’ like a freakin’ stunt driver!” He rubbed his crotch. It was probably the most excitement the guy had ever had short of Penthouse and a bottle of baby oil.

A black Porsche raced passed us doing an easy hundred miles an hour, weaving in and out of traffic with supernatural skill. It wasn’t Cain. Relief crashed through me, wrecking me and making me close my eyes against unwelcome tears.

The truck slowed and exited with a mass of cars burped off first onto an off-ramp then a side road. Buildings were pock-marked with graffiti and bullet holes, for sale signs littering a landscape of neglect and despair.

Taking a deep breath, I sat up and stretched, relieved to have made it out of the Freaks’ Fair and into the city. I could get lost until I made my way to the bus or train station and got out of here. Flights would cost too much and put me in a single spot while I waited to board the plane. It felt too much like begging someone to find me, kill me, destroy me.

My chauffer pulled into an abandoned parking lot. Landscaped with weeds growing up through cracked and potholed pavement, the layered debris of city living—papers, cigarette butts and worse—blew about in the soft breeze. I looked over at Bobby and started to ask what we were doing at the same time he pulled a hunting knife from beneath the seat.

“Two hundred bucks is a bit skinny, beautiful, ’specially with that wad of cash you got.” He still rubbed his crotch where a small bulge had formed behind his jeans zipper. “You hand it over an I’ll letcha go.”

Shifting to face him, I hunted for the elusive door handle with the hand behind my back. “If you think I’m going to give you my getaway money, you’re actually dumber than you look. That’s pretty impressive, Bobby,” I taunted. Get him angry, get him sloppy, I thought, working to find the handle. Just as my fingers wrapped around it he launched himself across the bench seat and had one hand around my throat and the other struggling to bring the knife to my gut before I could get the door open. I kicked out hard to keep that knife away from me, trying to get my feet under his torso to push him off. Fury roared over me and I screamed, shattering the glass in the truck. Shocked, I didn’t notice good olʼ Bob had scrambled back to his side of the car and held his bleeding ears with both hands. The burn in my eyes told me what he saw; the fear on his face and the wet spot where he’d pissed himself confirmed it.

“Fucking freak,” he squeaked.

I licked my lips and pretended to lunge at him.

He started to cry.

“Pussy,” I snarled, and turned to jump from the truck. A booted foot made contact with my back as I started down and I lurched forward, the pain in my back searing. It felt more like I’d been nailed with a spiked golf shoe than a cowboy boot. The area where I landed was, thankfully, devoid of the nastier stuff in the parking lot.

“Bitch!” Bobby screamed as he yanked the truck door shut. He tore out of the parking lot in a roar of over-burdened horsepower and a cloud of exhaust. With the asshat gone, my only real option was to hoof it out of here and get to the bus station before he alerted the police to be on the lookout for the freak who had assaulted him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that wouldn’t end well for me. Jailed, I’d be as good as dead. Fear forced me to move while common sense told me not to run and draw unnecessary attention to myself.

It took me a while to make my way back to the interstate off-ramp but I managed it within the hour and flagged down a cab. “Either the train or bus station, whichever is closer,” I intoned, worn thin from the sustained adrenaline rush.

“No preference?” asked the cabbie.

“None. But if you get me there quickly, I’ll throw in an extra twenty for your efforts.” After all, I had the leftover cash from the shithead who’d brought me to town.

“You got it.” The cabbie shot into traffic from the shoulder and left me gasping and fumbling for my seatbelt. He apparently really wanted the extra cash. Mumbling to himself as he drove, he occasionally blasted a curse at a fellow motorist or shot through a hole in traffic that would have daunted a European Vespa driver. I found that by squinching my eyes shut and pretending I was on my way to my first-ever Jamaican vacation I could force my breathing to slow down. When he exited the interstate I had a moment of discomposure as snippets of the afternoon washed over me in a dreamlike haze. It took a second to get my bearings. I rubbed my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. We’d arrived at the train station.

When the cabbie pulled to the curb I nearly rushed out of the car before he’d fully stopped, digging money out of my purse as I went. I gave him the promised tip and he grinned, then he was off. Eyes down, I turned around and crashed into a porter with a squeak of alarm.

“Help you out, miss?” He was dark skinned and soft-spoken, gentle in a way only a truly large man could be. Tipton’s face flashed before me, my heart contracting with grief. I’d never been able to say goodbye.

“I need a ticket. Where’s the office please?” I mumbled.

“You in trouble, hon?” His voice was balm to my soul. Here, it said, here is a decent human being. And I needed to believe that there were a few—hell, even one—left.

“If you can just help me get to the ticket counter, I’d be incredibly grateful.” Tears threatened when he held his hand out to show me through the sliding glass doors. He walked me to the ticket counter and we said our goodbyes. He hesitated before offering to stay and see me to the train but I declined. If no one saw me get on a train, no one could confirm I’d left.

“Next!” barked out the agent.

“Two tickets.” I leaned back to look at the departures, one north and one east, both within the next twenty minutes. “One to New Orleans and one to Boston, please.” Identification was verified before money changed hands. It put a dent in my emergency fund, but I’d make it work. There were no other choices beyond survival at the moment.

I slumped down on the bench, waiting for the call to board. Both trains would be leaving within minutes of each other and all I could think about were Boston winters. Why couldn’t one of the trains have been headed to Florida? I groused to myself. Boston was boarding first so I stood, stretched, and moved toward the ticketing gate.

A hard hand clamped down on my arm just above the elbow. “Move toward the parking lot. Don’t cause a scene.”

Sounds faded away as my heart galloped and my breathing grew faster. He might have only said a few words the night before, but I knew the voice. Tarron.

“Stay focused,” he snarled. “Wouldn’t want to cause any unnecessary trouble now, would you? You’ve been a real pain in my ass. Botched hit and run, a failed kill attempt when Cain stepped out to check your heater, then the fucking bastard stopped my subcontractor from killing you after leaving Khavien’s trailer late one night, and finally interfered when I came for you myself.” He shoved me forward and I tripped, going down to one knee before he yanked me back up. “He couldn’t pick you out of a lineup if you were wearing a damned nametag. Fortunately I don’t need him to fulfill the contract.”

The porter stepped out in front of us. “You in trouble, miss?” His voice was still soft but his big hands flexed as if he was ready to throw down if I needed it. It was impossible not to be moved by such chivalry and I shook my head, forcing a smile when I met his worried gaze.

“I’m fine, Mr. Canton,” I said, looking at his nametag. “Truly. I’m going to see my father.”

The hand on my arm flinched. Good. He hadn’t realized how much I’d known. If I could make it harder for him to kill me, I’d do it. Survival would, literally, keep me out of hell, and my pride could afford to be damned before my soul was.

“You give a shout should you need help,” Mr. Canton admonished. He glared at my escort. “No orange eyes are going to scare me, mister. I’ve seen too much, lived too long, to be scared of much.” My heart went out to this man who still held grace like a weapon despite the warning of violence learned. Before I could respond, Tarron propelled me around the large man as we moved into daylight and headed for the car.

My sunglasses were in my purse and I needed to dig them out, but the moment I went for my bag it was snatched out of my hands. “Hey!”

“Keep your hands where I can see them. There’s a serious incentive in the contract for delivering you alive, but delivering your soul still pays and I’m not particular.”

Cain’s mannerisms and indulgences had desensitized me to lower-level demons. Tarron was a different case. His treatment at Cain’s hands—had it only been last night?—had obviously soured him on me. Go figure.

“Get in.” He shoved me toward the door. The reflection in the window had me faking a stumble to distract him. Mr. Canton’s clasped hands came down in a mighty blow to the juncture of Tarron’s neck and shoulder, dropping the demon to his knees.

“Thank you!” I shouted at Mr. Canton as I grabbed my bag and sprinted for the line of cabs. I had little illusion I’d get far, but it was my best bet.

The black BMW roared around the corner and slid to a stop in front of me. “Get in!” Cain yelled, throwing the door open.

“I can’t leave Mr. Canton,” I shouted.

“Damn it, Dani! Get the fuck in the car!”

“Go, girl,” Mr. Canton bellowed as I heard feet pounding the pavement in my direction.

I jumped into the car and the forward momentum as we shot away slammed the door shut. Heart in my throat, I dared a quick glance at the demon behind the wheel. His face was a hard mask, a bundle of muscle marked his clenched jaw, his eyes hidden behind wraparound sunglasses. Strong, familiar hands clenched the leather-wrapped steering wheel hard enough to make his knuckles stand out in white relief against his tanned skin.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, and Cain cut me off with a brief, harsh look.

“Save it, Dani.” He wove through traffic, the Porsche right on our bumper. “Eyes forward, shut up, hang on.” He floored the gas pedal and ran a red light, barely missing being broadsided by a semi-truck. When I dared a look at the side-view mirror, relief made me draw a shaking breath. Tarron had been caught by the truck plus several cars that had stopped in cross-traffic as a precaution, effectively pinning him in. But Tarron was on the move again in no time, weaving in and out of those stopped cars as if his car was fluid. I did as Cain bid with one exception—instead of keeping my eyes forward, I closed them long enough to issue a short prayer.

We rocketed down the on-ramp. A panicked giggle escaped after I realized I was back on the interstate. Again. Headed toward downtown. Again. Holy shit. Could this day get any worse?

The larger car was stronger than the smaller, more nimble one, but its size came with a cost. It took a larger opening for Cain to get where he wanted to go. Tarron didn’t have that problem. He caught up to us quickly then nudged us, nearly forcing Cain into the car we were passing. Cain looked in the rearview mirror and grinned ferally.

“Want to play it like that do you, motherfucker?” He slammed on the brakes and pushed the smaller car across traffic, cars piling up all around him. Cain floored it and flew down the interstate, his face resettling into its stone-cold mask, leaving the wad of cars in our wake. Down an off-ramp we flew, through red lights and across town until I realized where we were. When Cain whipped the car across traffic once again and began to climb the spiraling ramp with smooth, hard determination, I thought back to our first trip to this very parking garage. Only a week ago we’d been sent here to get my costumes. So much had changed between then and now.

I wanted to ask why we were here and opened my mouth a few times to do just that but Cain would jerk the wheel and I’d slam my mouth shut. Just as I’d determined to ask, he muscled the car off the ramp onto a parking level and raced down the aisle, parking the car in the first spot he came to that didn’t face the ramp.

Cain faced forward, hands still clenching the wheel hard enough to leave marks. His words were ground out between clenched teeth. “You’re going to get out of the car. If you run from me, ever, I will uphold my promise to follow you. I will follow you, I will find you and I will make you regret it. Now move.”

He hadn’t killed me yet and he hadn’t let Tarron have me, so I scrambled out of the car and followed him. I stayed close and never thought of trying to duck off because I had no doubt whatsoever that he’d fully live up to his threat. When he stopped suddenly, I crashed into him. We both grunted. He turned and looked around the deserted garage. Then he grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the light on the side of the garage that shared an alley with a large, windowless brick building.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, pulling back on his iron-fisted grip. “He could find us.” Yanking against his tightened fist proved useless.

“No, he won’t. He’s going to be tied up there for a bit.” We stopped near the edge of the parking level. I stood in the light while Cain stood well behind the shade’s edge. The juxtaposition was lost on neither of us.

“When were you going to fucking tell me!” His scream shattered the silence and I jumped, bumping the edge of the low cement wall. Cain shook with rage, his muscles shifting under his skin, the orange of his eyes devouring the blue. It was like looking into Sheol’s eternal flames. “Answer me, Dani, or so help me I am going to hurt you.”

Fear lodged in my throat and would let me do no more than whisper. “I didn’t know.”

“Not good enough!” His breathing grew labored and he fought the loss of control. He was caught in the undertow of Sheol’s pull, and I knew pleading would be useless while showing weakness would bait him. I was so screwed.

“Cain,” I began, “I only found out last night that you were after someone named Ambriel, someone you believed to be the…” My eyes widened impossibly and my mouth worked around word “Key.” No matter how I tried, I couldn’t seem to get it out.

“You just figured it out? How slow are you?” His breathing was still labored and his voice deeper than normal, but at least he hadn’t screamed. “You should’ve told me, Dani. You can’t expect me to believe you didn’t know your own name. I don’t have a choice.” He turned and walked a few paces away, his jerky movements far from the smooth, self-assured man I knew. His head fell back and I heard him draw a deep breath before turning around.

Now it was my turn to close my eyes and draw a calming breath. “A choice about what, exactly?”

Cain turned to look at me, lips a harsh slash in his beautiful face. “You’re fully aware of what’s going on, Dani. Khavien had enough time to clue you in, and I have no doubt he did just that.”

“What do you want from me?” I choked out on a barely contained sob. Fear was fast gaining ground on my attempts to control the situation. “I have money.”

His laugh was harsh, humorless. “I don’t want anything from you. Demons and angels don’t play well together, sweetheart. It’s about what Samil wants, what he’s hired me and my team to retrieve.”

Moving toward me in a halting gait, I realized he’d started to shift. He was on the cusp of losing control, giving in to his nature. I sidled away from him, keeping my eyes trained on his and an arm extended to the side to keep me from bumping into anything. When my hand hit the cold concrete of a pylon, I turned my back to it and began to work my way around it.

“Stop,” he commanded, his voice guttural and difficult to understand.

I froze at the same time a wave of lust washed over me, nearly making my knees give out. Shaking, I forced heavy lidded eyes open to stare at him. “Don’t,” I whispered. “Please. You promised.”

“What did I promise?” He kept coming slowly, my need growing with each step he took toward me.

“Don’t do this to me, Cain. Please,” I begged.

He roared, his rage rocketing back to a superficial depth. Storming up to me, emotions roiling around him, he grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved me against the pillar. “What do you think I promised you?”

“In the car that day. You said you wouldn’t force me.” It seemed prudent to tuck my hands as far from him as possible. The Holy only knew what would happen if I touched him when he was like this.

Time condensed for me into the sound of my heart thundering through my head, the smell of Cain’s sweat, and even the number of breaths we took in tandem. The second hand on my watch seemed to coast to a stop and we understood on a primal level that we’d somehow survived each other in this initial confrontation. Cain let me go but planted his fists on the cement pillar, effectively corralling me with his arms. He looked down at me at the same time I looked up.

He bent toward me, seemingly conscious of time’s indifference, his breath hot on my lips. I closed my eyes in anticipation and fear, while nerves and butterflies warred for dominance in my stomach. I had no idea butterflies were so tough, but they held their own.

A siren cut through the air. Cain lurched away from me as reality overruled time’s apathy. Life began again. The acrid smell of my own fear stung my nose and I couldn’t help but shiver. The demon’s creative cursing, a combination of English and Sheolian, the language of the underworld, confused me.

Cain spun back to me, grabbed me by the front of the shirt, and slammed me into the pylon. “Don’t ever count on me to be the gentlemen. Do you understand?” The wave of lust receded and he snarled. “Ever.”

I nodded, breathing hard as I regained control of myself. Resentment made my stomach cramp, surprising me. In that moment, I hated him—hated him for reminding me what I couldn’t have, what was lacking in my life, for creating such an empty craving in me that I couldn’t ever satisfy.

“Who else knows who your fucking father is, Dani?”

“You said you’d give me twenty-four hours to discuss this.”

“I’m a demon. I lied.” His voice echoed throughout the parking level. “Answer me. You do not screw with me on this, do you hear me? It started with the near hit and run and it’s escalated from there. Who knows, Dani? Who exactly is aware of who, and what, you are?” He continued to slam me into the pillar until I started to fight back.

“How can I not hear you?” I yelled before my voice dropped back into the realm of the exhausted and I slumped in his grip. “And why is this my fault? None of the violence or trauma started until you showed up with your band of merry men. Tarron was behind it all, Tarron and someone he claimed to subcontract. Don’t you get it, Cain? I’m a nobody, a null. Not an angel or a banshee. I’m a null!”

“That’s what you think.” Cain tossed me over his shoulder without apology and ran across the parking deck, stopping less than a hundred feet from where we’d just stood. He broke into sprint, heading for the short half-wall I’d leaned against minutes ago.

“You sadistic asshat, put me down!” I grabbed his boxer shorts and yanked up as hard as I could and he stumbled.

“Damn it, Dani, cut that shit out!”

I smiled as he took on a waddling gait that slowed every couple of steps as he tried to loosen the bind the underwear had created on his precious saddlebags. Sunlight broke through my mental castration-by-strangulation fantasy and I realized he’d reached the back wall.

“You’d better hope I’m right or this is going to hurt like hell.”

And then he did the unthinkable. Without pausing, he grabbed me by the back of the pants and threw me as hard as he could off the eleventh floor of the parking garage.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE SUV ROCKED ALONG the interstate. Where and how Cain had ended up with the “borrowed” car didn’t matter. All I cared about was, in no particular order, a new shirt, a hot shower, and some critical first aid.

I’d been suspended in the air for less than a blink, the sheer disbelief that he’d thrown me off a building overriding everything else. But fear caught up fast. Oh yeah. It hadn’t taken long at all.

Closing my eyes against the sun, I fought against the memory. Wasn’t there some rule against being haunted by nightmares while you were wide awake? It didn’t really matter, though, because I couldn’t help but remember everything in disturbing detail. I doubted sleep would offer a reprieve.

The scream had lodged in my throat and the only thing I could think was, Hollywood got this all wrong. Curious voices whispered in my mind. I’d looked back at Cain, with his hands clutching the wide railing as he watched me with open ferocity. I reached for him. He lifted a hand to reach back but it was too late. I started to fall.

There was a split second where I couldn’t sort out concrete from blue sky. A sense of desperation grabbed my heart. I didn’t want to die. Not now. Not like this. The voices got louder, chanting unintelligibly as I fell. Tears fled up my temples as I rolled over and faced the asphalt rushing up to greet me. The voices grew too loud to ignore, and I found my voice to shout out the single word that roared from that invisible mass. “Chayah!”

The Hebrew word for “live” was apparently the key.

I screamed as my back ripped open in a horrifying explosion of flesh, blood, bone and feather. Wings snapped out with a sound like the snap of a wet sheet hung out to dry on a windy day. My fall slowed radically and I was pelted with the detritus from my evolution. Blood flowed freely down my sides. I tried to move my arms in an effort to wrap them around my body, to find some form of comfort, but my shoulders screamed in agony and my arms shook so badly I wasn’t at all sure I had control of them.

My eyes burned as I took in a whole new spectrum of color and dimension I’d never seen before. The air was saturated with new smells and my hearing overwhelmed me with a crush of sounds and myriad voices.

I landed hard in the alley between the parking garage and neighboring brick building, wrenching an ankle and knee, collapsing. My chest and throat burned, and I fought hard to keep from giving in to body-wracking sobs. It had been a small token to offer my destroyed back but I couldn’t come up with anything else in that moment. Tears dripped steadily off my nose, unimpeded by pride. I hurt.

The feel of my wings had at least been a distraction. They moved back and forth with lazy sweeps, peaking above my head before descending to brush the pavement, drying themselves without any input from me. I turned infinitesimally and caught a flash of their color on the down stroke. I’ll never forget that first glimpse. Though blood-spattered, their color could only be compared to that of honey held up to the sun. They seemed to gather light in order to generate the rich, deep tones. It was, and will always be, one of the most incredible moments of my life.

I’d dropped my chin then, and the fresh pull of skin on my back made me cry out. A car roared down the alley. The sound brought a new wave of terror but I hadn’t been able to summon the energy to move. I crouched there, a victim of whatever was to come. The car stopped and someone approached cautiously.

“Please.” I lifted one shaking hand without raising my head.

“Oh sweet hell, Dani,” came Cain’s choked reply.

“Please,” I sobbed, unable to hold it in any longer. Powerless to do anything but crouch beneath my wings, blood dripped with my tears, and a thin line of violence inched away from my body, the dark, rusty stain decorating the narrow alleyway around me like a Rorschach image.

Cain’s denim-clad knees had fallen into view. Taking my cheeks in his hands, he kissed my hair. “I’m so damn sorry,” he breathed.

I was too broken to do anything other than nod. And then I remembered. “My name is Ambriel. Ambriel Danitheus Phael.” I hadn’t known until I’d fallen; hadn’t remembered my own birth name. When I’d gone into foster care, they’d called me Dani for short. I must have blocked out the rest.

Cain had cursed low and long, pushing himself up to walk away.

Desperation had forced me to grab his booted ankle. Clutching the leather, I begged him not to leave me there to die alone in the alley’s filth.

Indecision radiated through him, his urge to leave palpable. “I’m not a better choice for you,” he’d whispered.

“I need you.”

“Dani—”

“Please.”

With a deep sigh, he’d again whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

In that moment I hadn’t doubted he would leave me.It was then that I thought to bow my head in prayer and ask for help. The voices had come back with a single word, one time. I closed my eyes and whispered, “Cthar.” My wings stretched out and seemed to draw a breath of their own before they drew in on themselves and folded into the ruined skin of my back.

I started to sink to the ground and a strong arm wrapped around my chest.

“If you go all the way down, I won’t be able to get you up without touching your back.” His voice had been gruff and harsh and beautiful. “You’re going to have to help me get you into the back of the car if you really think leaving with me is in your best interest.”

We’d managed through tears and curses and sheer doggedness—all of them mine—to get me into the back of the SUV, lying on my side. He’d peeled off my shredded t-shirt and the remains of my bra despite my grunted protests.

“They’ll get stuck in your back when it starts to heal.” He’d whipped off his own t-shirt and let me clutch it to my bare breasts before crawling into the driver’s seat and getting us the hell out of there. We hurtled down the rough alley and hit the main road, leaving behind us the sounds of sirens, the smell of smoldering brimstone, and the blood of at least one personal evolution.

I DRIFTED IN AND out of a fitful sleep while Cain drove. I assumed we would return to the Fair, but since we’d been on the road long enough for the sun to set and the moon to rise, I knew my assumptions had been wrong. My back still wept blood, the wet spot under my torso growing larger with every passing hour. I wondered at one point if it was possible to drown in the salt of my own tears, but I was still alive. My mind raced through unanswerable questions about what this meant for me. More pressing, probably, were the questions about Cain. I’d known him a week. In that time I’d been transferred to a new job I thought I’d hate but that guaranteed him unequalled access to me, my visions had returned, Sheol had come calling, I’d nearly been run over, and I’d been assaulted. Since leaving the Fair today, I’d nearly been a victim of kidnapping by one of his employees, thrown off a building by him, and had metamorphosed into some kind of hybrid angel. Somehow I didn’t think the guy qualified as my lucky rabbit’s foot.

There was also the issue of now. I was completely off the grid. No one knew where I was, so if he decided to follow through with the contract, I’d become a missing person. Morbid thoughts pockmarked my mind and I wondered in flashes if I’d ever be missed. The more pressing question was how to heal and then get away from Cain. Of course, healing meant little if it was only to become a better looking corpse. I sighed. None of this made sense. But he hadn’t left me in the alley and he hadn’t killed me. However it worked out, so long as I was breathing there was hope. It would have helped to know whether that plan centered around him or escape.The SUV began to slow down before I could get too far into this most recent internal conversation. Cain pulled up under the lights of a hotel’s large portico. I closed my eyes against the artificial glare and lay silent while Cain made whatever arrangements were necessary. He climbed back in and pulled into an underground parking garage.

“Stay here,” he said, voice rough from disuse.

I didn’t answer.

He shut the driver door quietly, leaving me alone for about fifteen minutes. I jumped then groaned when he unexpectedly opened the rear hatch of the vehicle. “I brought you a couple of damp, warm towels and a robe from the bedroom. I’m going to have you bend forward while I lay the towels on your back then we’ll wrap you up in the robe before we get you to the room.” Hands on his hips, he looked down, closed his eyes and finished his thought. “You’re going to have to lose the jeans and underwear because the robe is white and I don’t want blood leeching through from your clothes and I definitely don’t want your pants to show. The less attention we draw, the better.”

“Where are we?” I managed to rasp.

“I’d prefer not to say.” He grabbed my ankles and pulled me slowly out of the cargo area, rolled me onto my stomach and wrapped an arm across my chest to stand me up.

“You’re good at this.”

“I’ve spent lifetimes in Sheol, Dani. It’s not campfire songs and marshmallow roasts.” He picked up a damp towel. “Bend forward and put your hands on the bumper.”

I hissed when he laid the first towel across my shoulders but the weight of the second one was actually comforting. They were almost hot, and the damp heat soothed. Next came the robe. Then he efficiently stripped me of my jeans and underwear without comment. Unfortunately, my socks and shoes were also casualties.

“It’ll take both of us to get you to the room, but I managed to get one on the third floor near the elevator. It won’t be very quiet, but you also won’t have to walk as far.” He looked me over. “Let’s get this over with as quickly as possible.”

We made our way slowly through the doors, only garnering a couple of odd stares before we got off the elevator. True to his word, the room was the first one on the right. The promise of dark, quiet privacy and a night on a bed I could completely stretch out in were the best things I could imagine.

Cain opened the door and helped me inside. The room was enormous with a giant king-size bed and fluffy bedding that called to me.

“Help me into bed,” I whispered as the door snicked shut and he flipped the deadbolt in place. The security of that sound comforted me, and I felt like I could relax for the first time in hours. “No jokes or crude comments?”

“None of this is funny.” He moved past me to turn down the covers and lay the extra robe and towels down on the bed as a sort of pad against the seepage from my back. Again, it would take both of us to manage this and I naturally balked at having him strip me bare before laying me down. Cain closed his eyes and took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly. “What are you going to do if the towels slide down your back?”

The thought made me nauseous. “Fine. Just…don’t look.” I felt a blush building.

“What’s the big fucking deal?” he demanded as he threw pillows off the bed with force. “I can’t count the number of women I’ve seen naked. You’re not any different.”

“Sure,” I whispered, unclear why his words made my breath hitch.

He wordlessly held out a hand to help me up to the bed before stepping behind me to take the edges of the robe. “Lean forward.”

I did as he asked and he moved with measured gentleness, hanging the robe off my hips while he removed the towels. It all afforded me more modesty than I expected. When he placed his hands on my hips, I flinched and hissed out a breath.

“Don’t get all worked up,” he snapped out. “I’m going to close my eyes, but I’ll need a point of reference.”

“Thank you.”

He grunted.

I pretended it meant “you’re welcome.”

The robe slid down my hips and across exposed and ruined skin. Dried blood left it rough, uneven, the topography high enough in places that the loop of the robe’s terry cloth snagged and flaked off blood in patches. Privately anxious for the moment to pass, I said nothing. The robe finally hit the ground, leaving me bent over in front of him, a bare, bloodied offering. He silently kicked the robe away before running an arm around in front of me.

“Grab my arm. Without my eyes, you’re basically going to have to maneuver yourself.” He held it out for me. Remote, almost pained, his voice held little of the warmth I was used to from him. Gone entirely was the jokester, the seducer, the demon who bantered like he breathed.

I was less comfortable with this version of him than the other. But somewhere inside, albeit probably buried deep, was the man I’d seen in the sunshine. Decision made, I gripped the sheets and said, “Open your eyes.” My voice was soft but I knew he heard me when all the hairs on his arms stood up.

“I don’t think that’s in your best interest.”

“Please, Cain. What’s in my best interest is to lie down without hurting myself. You know I can’t touch you. Besides, like you said, I’m just another body, nothing special.” Even repeating his statement hurt.

“I never said you were nothing special.” He took in a great breath and I knew he saw me for the bloody mess I was. His free hand ran slowly down my bared hip and I shivered, whimpered from the pain. Muscles in my back were knitting together; I could feel them. It still hurt like a son of a bitch, though.

He pushed on the free hip while pulling with my arm so I turned and sat on the bed on one smooth motion. With more gentle, wordless direction, I found myself laid over on my side so my back was to him, the covers draped around my hips and tucked around my front. Not once did he comment. I was relieved, disappointed and painfully confused.

He traced a finger from wrist to shoulder then up, up into my hair so that I focused on the feeling of pleasure versus the pain in my back.

I sighed.

He paused, surprised I think, before beginning the route again. “Feel good?”

“Yeah.” My voice was lost in the hum of the room’s heater.

Cain paused and leaned closer. “Sorry? I couldn’t hear you.”

Ever so slowly, I reached for him. Laying the back of my hand against his cheek was a satisfying frustration because in that moment, for the first time, I wanted to touch him with my fingertips. I wanted to trace the ridges of his brow and the lines of his cheeks, feel the straight blade of nose that had the tiniest bump, tactilely memorize his jaw line and, oh yeah, touch the fullness of his lips. I wanted it enough that I resented my gift in a whole new way.

He twitched like a nervous horse. His nostrils flared and a faint push of raw sexuality burned my system like a living flame. My lips parted on a shaky breath. Cain grabbed my wrist and yanked it away from his face. I sucked in a raw lungful of air, the pain of the movement rendering me speechless.

“Don’t.” He stood and dropped my hand, breaking the connection. The moment of intimacy dissolved. “I’ve got to go get some first aid supplies. I have no idea how fast you’ll heal, but that alley wasn’t sanitary.” He muttered something, but all I caught was “won’t matter” before he moved away.

Confusion swamped me and, in that moment, I would have accepted comfort from any willing source. Emotions I’d worked so hard to control, to tamp down and choke out refused to be ignored. At the same time, the pressing need to give in to a healing sleep pulled at me. Sleep would afford me the opportunity of emotional escape and I ran for it. I closed my eyes and drifted off to the sound of the door snicking shut once again.

I was certain Cain had left the room, and equally certain I wasn’t alone. Sleep claimed me before I could ask who was there.

BLACKOUT DRAPES MADE IT impossible to judge the passing of time as I flitted in and out of a feverish sleep riddled with strange dreams. In one of the most vivid dreams, a man visited me. As large as Cain with eyes of burning gold, he had a hard yet compassionate smile. The stranger whispered to me in a foreign language before shifting to English to offer words of comfort.

In another dream, Cain cursed the golden-eyed man whom he called Michael, and they exchanged heated words. Cain taunted him and Michael responded in kind, something about that damned Key again, the hostility escalating until the first punch was thrown. They pounded on each other until one of them stumbled into the bed and made me scream in pain. Silence sucked me back under.

The electronic door lock hummed open and was followed by the door shutting with a heavy bang. It woke me from my latest dream where I wandered a dark hallway that seemed endless. I stuck close to the right because on the left were cages with indescribably hideous creatures. Calling out for Cain, my voice was swallowed in the massive emptiness of that hall. He didn’t answer.

A cool hand rested on my shoulder. I jerked away because if it was cool, it wasn’t Cain’s. The hand gripped my shoulder, a voice whispered, “Be still, Dani,” and I relaxed some. Someone knew me? Cool salve pressed into my back and I groaned out loud. Divine, numbing relief spread through my shoulders, down my back, into muscles, relieving the massive injuries. It was like being absolved from sin, this absence of pain long suffered. My subconscious flitted to the surface and I wondered if I’d died.

“You’re not dead,” said the voice, assuring me I was alive.

Could the voice hear all my thoughts?

Laughter. “Only when you speak them.”

I opened blurry eyes burdened by lead-weighted lids to find a stranger man standing over me. Compassionate golden eyes took me in and then he bid me sleep, and again I drifted away.

I have no idea how much time passed before I was woken with a jolt. Something wasn’t right. Inexplicable fear made me keep still, lids open only enough to see. Cain, beaten black and blue, stood over me with a big-ass knife in his hands. He drew the blade back, and I closed my eyes. If this were truly the end, I wouldn’t—couldn’t—fight it. I had nothing left.

“It’s all right, Cain.” My voice was nothing compared to the roar of the heater, but I had to say it. “I forgive you.”

“You’ll be the death of me, Dani.”

“Seems like that makes us even.”

The demon’s laughter and curses followed me back into sleep that was, thankfully, dreamless.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“DO YOU STILL WANT to be called ‘Dani’ after all this?” Cain washed my back with a rag. The new skin was still tender and he took great care to not apply more pressure than I could stand.

“It’s who I am.” I squirmed, still stunned I’d healed so much damage in twenty-four hours. There would clearly be benefits to my hybrid status. “The other person died when her parents abandoned her.” And it was true. When my parents left me, I had become Dani Fayel. No middle name, no background, and above all, no family history to add to my fragmented government file. It had been ground into me from the earliest age that we were a secret, that Mommy and Daddy were treasures we couldn’t share. I’d always assumed I was a treasure by default, but they’d proven me wrong. I shook my head and, working to abandon that train of thought, said, “I wanted to thank you.”

“Excuse me?”

“For saving me. I wanted to thank you.”

Cain snorted. “I’d encourage you not to thank me too soon.” He moved toward the room’s lone chair, his movement distracting me and chasing back the fierce hurt of introspection. The room’s only light fell short of his seat and the shadows cast on his face were ominous reminders of my hallucination. How much had been real and how much imagined? The demon paused, pushed his hair off his face and cracked his knuckles. My stomach clenched when he swept something up off the floor. The illusion of the knife was all too fresh and I shifted away from him, but he only dumped the contents of a handled bag onto the bedspread in front of me. I stared. New clothes, tags still attached, littered the bed. I hadn’t had new clothes in I didn’t know how long. Second hand stores were my shopping haunts because they came closer to what my budget could afford.

The demon watched me closely, clearly exasperated. “Don’t get emotional. They’re just clothes.”

I reached out and rubbed the satin underwear between my fingers, the fabric catching on my scabbed hands. The matching bra, a creamy vanilla with pale blue and green embroidery, was so delicate. I looked up at Cain, held his gaze as he stared back.

“What?” he demanded churlishly.

I set the lingerie aside and shook my head, confused. “How much of what happened over the last couple of days was delusion versus real?”

He watched me through half-lowered lids, the orange of his eyes more pronounced. “We had a visitor while you were out.”

“There was a fight.” I fidgeted with the edge of the sheet and waited for him to refute my statement.

What he did instead was step into the sliver of light so that the bruises, though nearly healed, were evident.

My breath caught. “Not really the answer I was hoping for. All right, the—” I cleared my throat and tried again. “The big-ass knife?”

A grim smile and slow blink was his answer. He pulled a gun that had been tucked down the back of his jeans, leveled it at my head with a steady hand, and fingered the trigger. “You pose a significant problem for me on several levels, angel.”

“Clearly.” My voice was low and calm. Point for me.

He held the gun on me for several seconds before he sighed and sank into the chair across from me, resting the gun on his knee. “I should have left you in that alley.”

“I would have probably died.”

He arched a brow and tipped the gun toward me. “Biggest difference between then and now is that you’re aware you’re going to go one way or another—either willingly or unwillingly. You consider that a better ending? That’s on you.”

“So, what? You saved me so you’d have a wider range of kill options?” I asked, incredulous.

“Keep your voice down.” He slid lower in the chair. “I told you I’m a predatory demon.”

“What you told me didn’t have anything to do with killing me in particular.”

His grin was feral. “I’m a demon, Dani; a predatory incubus. What did you think I did? Fucked people to death?” He snorted and sat up, leaned forward, hands hanging loosely between his legs, the gun dangling from one hand without concern. Shaking his head, he said, “You’re too naïve for your own damn good.” His voice was a verbal sneer.

I rolled away from him. What did you expect? Did you think he’d turn into your personal savior? You knew what he was when you left with him. You should have thought this through before throwing yourself on his particular brand of mercy. I barely held back closing my internal monologue with “effing moron.”

My survival instinct was raging silently inside, screaming at me to get up, get moving, get out. I swung my legs over the side of the mattress, wobbled a little when the edge dipped under my weight, then propped myself up on my forearms before attempting to stand. The room swam and I had to close my eyes against the vertigo that swept over me. I had a new empathy for the cartoon character that gets his ass kicked and little bluebirds flutter around his head, chirping happily at the fate that’s befallen him. Without a doubt, I knew I’d never smile at that scene again.

Air from the room unit blew across my bared back, effectively reminding me I had nothing to shield me from Cain’s gaze. The trouble with walking away from him was that I’d make it to the bathroom and still be naked without options. Shit. I leaned back and groped for the clothes on the bed, snagging them quickly when I heard the chair creak with movement. An exercise in sheer determination got me to my feet while stubbornness and pride kept me there. After all I’d been through, the shakes didn’t count against me. Cain sucked in his breath at the sight of my bare back, but his reaction was irrelevant. I’d get dressed with the intent of getting gone.

The bathroom felt like it was a quarter mile away as I took uneven, shuffling steps toward the darkened doorway. My breathing was too fast and I knew it. If I didn’t slow things down, I was going to go down. Hard.

A TOTAL SENSE OF déjà vu overwhelmed me when I finally rose to the surface of consciousness. My mouth was dry enough to option as sharecrop space. The bed shifted. I hadn’t moved. My eyes flew open and I gathered myself together with the intent of getting the hell out of the thousand-thread-count heaven. I moved, bumped my head against the headboard then squeaked in pain. This drew a dark, sensual chuckle from somewhere behind me. A thick arm, ropey with muscle, wrapped around my middle then tightened, pulling me back into the center of the giant bed.

“Settle down, angel. I’m not ready to get up yet. You passing out and braining yourself was just about the best thing that could have happened.” Cain yawned and relaxed his arm. I opened my mouth to say something undoubtedly high on the snark meter but he slapped a hand over my mouth before I could do more than draw a breath. “Would you settle down already? I’m tired. It’s been a long forty-eight hours, I’m in an impossible situation, and you’re in more trouble than politicians can generate, even in an election year.”

I hadn’t done anything to get myself in trouble…provided someone had left me a “Get Out of Bed Free” card. Luck hadn’t run on my side, though. Scrambling away from him, I managed to inadvertently elbow him in the throat as I struggled through the mass of covers.

“Damn it, Dani!” The bed heaved as he rolled over and lurched to his feet. The covers followed him in a sinuous glide that left me grappling to hold on to the soft sheet.

“Where do you get off cursing at me?” I demanded, scrambling to my knees and struggling to wrap the sheet around myself. The blackout curtains had been pulled completely closed, eliminating that single slice of light I’d had earlier, and I couldn’t make out his shape in the murk. I focused so intently on the window that I never even felt the air stir when he stole up behind me to clamp a large, hot hand around my throat. He squeezed, effectively silencing any further protest, and my heart rate doubled. It chapped my ass that he’d succeeded in making me fear him.

“Where do I get off?” The malice in his voice was acidic against my bare skin. “You fucking angels are all alike, hopped up on holy water and pretending you piss gold and shit sunshine.” He dropped his hand and shoved my shoulder, the shock of the hard contact on tender skin making me choke on a sound of pain. “Don’t ever forget that you and I have one major thing in common, angel. You’re as big a slave to your nature as I am to mine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, ‘you fucking angels’?”

The fight. I remembered the fight. And golden eyes. Gentle words and strange languages. “Who was it, Cain? Who was in this room?”

His palm slapped the wall and I jumped at the sound then squinted in the lamplight. “I’m not discussing this with you. Bottom line? You’re my ticket out of this mess either way. Now get dressed. We’re leaving.”

“Where are we going?” What was supposed to have been a demand came out in a frightened rush. I closed my eyes and took a slow, deep breath. “Let me try that again. What I meant to say was this. If you’re hauling me out into the middle of some freaking cornfield just to off me, I’m going to object.” No answer. “Because everyone knows you don’t leave with a kidnapper who promises freedom.”

“I’m not promising you anything. I never have.” His eyes were more orange than moments ago. “Get. Dressed.”

And while he hadn’t made any promises, he also hadn’t made any more threats. I’d have to hold on to that small grain of hope. Pulling at the sheet until it came untucked, I wrapped it around myself toga-style, picked the clothes up off the floor and went to the bathroom to do just what the demon ordered.

CAIN HADN’T BOUGHT ME shoes so he sent me to the gift store to find “a pair of anything that fits” with strict orders to neither speak to anyone nor try to get out before he came to get me. I mumbled an answer, careful to avoid making any promises of my own.

I wandered through the gift store, deciding I’d be better off with shoes and a jacket, even if it did say “Hot Springs” on it. How he’d made it from western Nebraska to southern Idaho was beyond me, but the touristy knick-knacks and mementos hadn’t banded together to lie to me. Apparently I’d spent the last forty-eight hours in the small resort town. A sharp jab over my kidney made me step forward before turning to apologize to whomever I’d backed in to. Pressed against the soft flesh of my lower belly, the knife surprised me. It pierced the shirt and pricked my skin, a small, bright spot of crimson blossoming on the fabric.

“Move and I’ll gut you right here.” His voice smelled like sauerkraut thinly overlaid with after-dinner mints.

“Tarron.” My voice was so calm I almost fooled myself into believing I wasn’t terrified. Yay, me.

“I’m going to tell you one time to move or I’m going to turn around and slice the first person I can reach. Your choice.” He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at a little boy, three- or four-years old, who was within reach and shopping with his grandmother. The kid smiled back.

“Let’s go,” I said quietly. I dropped the pair of flip-flops I’d picked up and stuck my feet in them.

Doing the interpretive dance around the store at knifepoint made it clear he meant to kill me. I had to assume he intended to do it somewhere nearby or he’d have grabbed me and run, so I either had to get Cain’s attention or fend for myself. Hell, Cain might be glad to be finished with me. Or else he would be pissed he had to save me only to kill me himself later. I waffled long enough to get a sharper, deeper jab with the knife. I hissed and he leaned close. “Move.”

“I need to pay for the shoes and the jacket.”

He grabbed his keycard and backed away from me. “Put whatever she’s got on my room card.”

The terrified clerk looked at the knife and nodded. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, focusing. When he returned and pressed the knife to my lower belly, I grabbed his wrist and pushed with my mind.

“Cut the crap, angel.” His voice was as repulsive to me as his breath but it didn’t matter. I had the information I needed.

“Don’t call me that—don’t you ever call me that,” I hissed.

“Pull the bossy shit with Samil in a minute. I can’t wait to see how he takes it.” He shoved my shoulder. “Move it. Now.”

I walked through the lobby in a surreal state, headed toward the emergency exit. This kind of stuff just did not happen to me. Ever. Cain’s movement from the corner of my eye wasn’t reassuring. He either didn’t see me or else he didn’t care. Looked like I was on my own.

THE LONG, POORLY LIT hallway was the perfect place for a made-for-Hollywood-style killing, at least in my mind. All I needed to do was run, scream, trip and lay there waiting to die. It seemed my assailant agreed with me. His blunt-tipped fingers poked and prodded at me just as aggressively as his voice. We were almost to the end of the hallway and somehow I knew that going through the last door meant certain death. I would rather die fighting that just waltz to my end. I stopped abruptly and he bumped into me.

“We’re almost there, sweetheart. Just a few more steps and this will all be over. Be a brave kid and let’s finish this, yeah?” His accent was faint, almost Slavic. I’d never noticed.

“That’s the thing. I don’t want to finish this.” I spun and slammed my hand heel first into his nose. Blood rushed down his face as I gave a vicious push upward.

“You bitch!” he roared, his voice echoing in the empty hall.

I tried to dart past him, to go back the way we’d come, to where people might offer safety in numbers. He swung out low and hard, the knife tip slicing my lower side fiercely and I stumbled into the wall.

“I was just going to kill you. Wasn’t paid for anything else.” His voice was garbled from the blood and he spat as he talked through it. “Now I think we’ll have a bit of fun, you and I.” His eyes burned a deeper orange and his pupils took on that eerie red light.

He moved so fast it scattered my remaining concentration, and I cried out when the knife sliced across my upper arm. The door at the far end of the hallway opened and I screamed, “Please!”

Cain rushed us, his fury palpable, churning in front of him like a flash flood as he evolved into a larger, somehow hideous version of himself. Exaggerated muscles could be seen beneath skin that had darkened to a deep orangey brown, fingers extended into black-tipped claws with matching feet that destroyed his shoes. He was strangely familiar yet not the same: his face elongated; a set of thick dual horns, one set at his temple, one above his ears, separated his hair and curved up; his lower jaw jutted out and sharpened teeth with massive canines filled his gaping mouth. For all of that, it seemed like the demonic form had superimposed itself over the man, and I could still see Cain.

Tarron morphed into a similar shape, smaller than Cain but with a formidable speed the larger creature couldn’t match. I mashed myself into the wall, sidling toward the nearest door.

Cain crashed into my attacker and they fought with their whole bodies in a way that made cage fighters look like hand-slapping prima donnas. Having grown up in the freaks’ foster system and living at the Fair, I wasn’t immune to scuffles. But this? This qualified as something else entirely. Grunts and curses filled the air as the two demons pounded on each other. Cain took a particularly hard punch to the face that rocked his head back far enough I heard his neck crack. All he said was, “That how you want to play this, Tarron?” The other demon began to fade and Cain shoved his hand into his chest cavity and, with a vicious snarl he ripped the assailant’s chest open and wrestled to pull out his heart. Tarron screeched and the lights flickered. I threw my hands over my ears and went to my knees, instinctively huddling in on myself. The smaller demon cupped his hands and slammed them over Cain’s ears, making the larger demon roar and release the heart he still wrestled with. The smaller demon flickered then disappeared. The silence that followed was immediate and deafening.

Cain stood, bloodied but far from beaten. An otherworldly warrior, his eyes blazed, his long hair was tussled and his clothes were shredded rags that hardly covered him. He ignored it all, stalking toward me and grabbing my arm to haul me to my feet. His hand closed over the deep cut on my arm. I hissed at the pain.

He looked down, slid his hand back. “You’re hurt. How badly?” Speaking with the misshapen jaw, he sounded strange, his voice rumbling from deep within a chest gone nearly twice the size I was familiar with.

“I can move on my own.” I couldn’t look away from him, despite the fact he stared over my head and refused to meet my eyes. “I’ll need a bandage for my side and some first aid on the arm, I’m sure.” I swallowed down the bile that backed up my throat. “Did you kill him?”

“No.”

“No?”

Cain glared at me, calculating his answer. “I didn’t get his heart out before he teleported, so no.” He looked me over, his breathing slowing down. “You should have shifted, fought back.”

“Shifted?” My voice was soft, overlaid with the sounds of panicked people in the lobby. I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath. When I opened them, I found Cain returned to his familiar form. “I don’t know exactly how I did it before.”

“Learn,” he snapped. “Otherwise you’re never going to survive.”

Before I could answer him, the door flew open and a SWAT team stormed the hallway. We were roughly shown to the floor and frisked before it was determined we were actually the victim and the rescuer. At that point our statements were taken and it was suggested that all damage would be forgiven if we’d just leave the premises. As a token of appreciation for our departure, the manager gave us free clothes from the gift store and allowed us to change before ushering us out.

Cain and I traversed the maze back to the garage where he beeped open a black BMW identical to the one he’d left behind. I slid into the pristine interior and watched Cain fold himself in. His ritual hadn’t changed: start the car, program the GPS, put on dark sunglasses and slip the car into gear.

“You replaced your car quickly.”

“I loved that car.” His abrupt tone didn’t welcome conversation so I settled into the uncomfortable silence.

We moved out of the parking garage and down the main thoroughfare for the small city. The demon turned on some obscure heavy metal and drove aggressively, earning several hard glares from the slower-paced town members. Buildings thinned long before we hit Highway 30, turned south and he opened the car up. The force of acceleration set me back in my seat. Cain seemed to relax the farther we got from the hotel.

We rode for nearly an hour in silence before I gathered up the courage to try and figure out what was going on. “Cain?” Silence. “Where are we going?”

He dragged a hand over his mouth, pinching his lips. “I’ve got to meet someone.”

“Who?”

He didn’t answer.

“When are you meeting this person?”

A tic developed in his jaw and his lips thinned.

“Okay. Where?”

The muscles in his shoulders bunched and he whipped his ear to his shoulder, popping his neck. “Don’t sit there and feign benign curiosity, angel. I would assume you want to know so you can figure out how to attempt to escape.”

I sputtered, not because I was necessarily offended but because he had read my intent when I’d said hardly a dozen words.

His next words were slow and concise. “I’m warning you for the last time. There’s nowhere you can go that I won’t find you. And if you run? It’s just going to piss me off and make this worse than it has to be.”

I was caught between terror and fury. Unfortunately, the two emotions both proved to be fuel to temper’s flame. “It’ll make this worse than it has to be, huh?” I laughed, the sound bitter and devoid of any humor. “So what do you propose? That I just sit here meekly and wait for you to decide the most expeditious manner of dealing with me? Or maybe you’d actually prefer I provoke you. That way you can kill me without feeling any guilt.”

“Guilt?” He snorted. “What have I ever said that makes you think I’d feel any guilt?”

Score one for the demon, because that was a near fatal blow to the soul. I turned and looked out the dark-tinted window, struggling to regroup and get my emotions under control.

Cain sighed heavily and punched the radio volume down. “Look, I didn’t mean that to come out quite so harsh.”

“Forget it.” Despite my best efforts, the words were thick with emotion. “That cleared up any lingering misconceptions I might have had.”

A charged silence fell between us. Twice I caught Cain start to say something and stop, but I never invited the conversation.

He’d said everything there was to say.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

WE DIDN’T SPEAK AS mile marker after mile marker flashed by, fields of golden wheat changing over to the mountains of Wyoming’s northwestern corner and then to the endless, wind-blown prairie stretching as far as the eye could see. The phone rang and I jumped.

Cain stayed true, the car never wavering as we flew down the highway. He pushed a button on the steering wheel and the navigation screen showed the call had connected. “What’s going on, Khavien?”

We didn’t need the surround sound to experience the seething rage in K’s voice as it flowed over and around us like smoke. “Care to tell me where you are?”

“No.” Cain’s voice was flat, emotionless. He glanced at me, tilted his head toward the screen and held a finger to his lips.

K slammed something down next to the desk phone’s speaker. “Is she alive?”

A small smile teased the corner of Cain’s mouth. “You sold her out, Khavien. What’s it to you?”

“You know I didn’t have a choice,” he hissed.

“There’s always a choice, dhampir.”

“Bullshit. Lucifer called in his markers and it was comply or lose everything.”

“I’m well aware of the terms. You chose to keep the Fair. She was the cost of doing business.”

The emotionless disconnect in Cain’s voice was clear, but it was nothing compared to the arctic emptiness spreading through me as, one by one, the ties of friendship were severed. Six years. I’d known K for six years and he’d turned me over to Sheol’s Hunters to save his own microscopic empire. Color fled my face and I felt it go, chased away by the realization that, like everyone else, Khavien had abandoned me. When I’d needed him, preserving his own interests had been more important than my life. I’d never doubted he’d always cover his own ass, but never once had I believed he’d take it this far, sentencing me to death for his own gain. My mouth opened and closed silently, once, then twice, as I fought to find words that could come even remotely close to conveying my devastation. Cain gave me a hard look and sharp shake of the head. I laid a trembling hand over my mouth, fighting for air as my chest cavity flooded with the suppressed wail of betrayal.

“You figured out who she was and gave her a head start before giving me the information I needed to find her. I would’ve thought your interests ended there. So what do you want now, Khavien?” Cain settled lower in his seat, draping a single hand over the top of the steering wheel as if he was bored with the whole conversation.

“What did you do to her? I need to know.”

“Why would you think I did anything?”

Silence.

Cain looked over at me, face blank. “She’s sitting right here.”

Understanding was like a physical blow. Cain had played Khavien, opening the door for Khavien to admit aloud his own level of involvement.

“You son of a bitch!” Khavien exploded and I was surprised to hear regret woven through the anger. “Dani? Dani, you’ve got to understand. I couldn’t refuse.”

“Give her a minute, Khavien.” Cain kept his eyes on the road.

I folded further in on myself, pressing against the door and closing my eyes.

“Dani, I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice.”

Liar. The demon was right. K had made his choice.

“What do you want, Khavien?” Cain asked as he pulled the car over to the side of the road.

Sounds of the Fair, faint but achingly familiar, carried across the sound system and I couldn’t stop the small sob that escaped.

“Dani.” K’s voice was pleading.

I shook my head and furiously swiped at the rogue tears that chased gravity without my consent. “No.” All my grief was carried in that single word. I swallowed hard. “I don’t have to understand, Khavien.” Reaching over, I pushed the radio control off, effectively muting the call. I kept pushing buttons, my actions becoming erratic, almost frantic.

Cain reached for my wrist. “Slow down.”

Making a fist, I swung at him with the back of my hand, hitting his forearm. “Hang up the phone.” When he didn’t move, I screamed, “Hang up the fucking phone!”

He pushed a button on the steering wheel and the call symbol disappeared from the navigational display.

I couldn’t stop the small sound of distress that chirped in the back of my throat.

Cain wrapped his hands around the steering wheel, wringing the leather. He said nothing, just stared down the long expanse of vacant highway in front of us.

I mentally picked up random facts in no particular order, rolling them around then setting them down, one right after another. Making sense of this mess seemed an impossible task for my fractured mind. Worse, though, infinitely worse, was the new internal void that threatened to consume my true self. That piece of self I’d so carefully constructed over the years had been ruthlessly violated, the damage irrevocable. A merciless practicality I’d never known settled over the shards of self which remained—protective, fierce and utterly, unapologetically cold.

“What agreement did Khavien make with Lucifer?”

Cain turned to me, unable to fully conceal the surprise that crossed his face. “Short version or long?”

I kept my eyes focused over his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Short then. Thirty years ago, Lucifer helped Khavien procure the Fair. One of the conditions Lucifer set out in exchange for his help was that Khavien keep a running list of all employees and their heritage. He suspected the Key was a child, but he couldn’t be sure. He was using the Fair’s roster as a sort of filter, in case the kid passed through.

“K also had to promise Lucifer three Hunter’s Marks in return for the Dark Prince’s help. A Hunter’s Mark is something a demon can use in lieu of interest on a personal loan with Lucifer. It means that whenever Lucifer or his representative calls it in, the debtor must help the Hunter in whatever capacity Lucifer decrees or the Hunter needs. Lucifer cashed in all three of K’s Marks to find the Key. When we narrowed it down to Ambriel, child of Samil, and you showed up there, but not on the employee roster? Let’s just say Lucifer is going to be nine kinds of pissed with Khavien.”

“Lucifer required Khavien to keep the list?” Interesting.

“Yeah. He liked to know who, and what, he had access to through the Marks. K was required to keep the list updated and supply a copy whenever there was a personnel change.”

No wonder Khavien had started to press me for my breeding. With the Marks called in, he knew he’d be in deep shit if the Hunters found out that the list was incomplete.

Cain ran his hands through his hair, pulled it back and left his face in stark relief. “K made his deal with the Devil, Dani. He’s not the first and he won’t be the last to bitch about how repayment went down.”

Settling back in my seat, I stared out the window. I had choices to make, hard choices that were probably going to result in personal hardship. So be it.

The demon watched me carefully, not flinching when a semi-truck blew past us, rocking the car. Without a word, he turned the volume up on the stereo, pulled a u-turn and leaned into the gas as we rocketed down the highway.

I leaned over and turned the music off.

“Problem?”

“I don’t feel like listening to this shit.” The screeching vocals and grating guitar riffs were overwhelming, leaving my mind feeling like a byproduct of electric shock therapy conducted in a vat of sludge: radical bursts of clarity followed by disturbing murkiness. I had decisions to make, and from those decisions actions would be born. First, though, I needed to know. “Why, Cain?”

“Why what?” Caution decorated his tone.

“Why did you just do that to me? Why would you set Khavien up at my expense?” I looked over at him, working to control my breathing, struggling to control my anger. “You were hired to kill me, not torture me, and that was both cruel and un-fucking-necessary.”

Cain’s lips thinned and he ground his teeth together, his nostrils flared and our speed increased. He passed a car, sailing around it as if it had been parked on the two-lane highway. “You think that was about you, do you? For your benefit maybe?”

“Despite the fact that there are clearly hundreds of other people in the car to choose from, yes, I think you did that specifically for my benefit.”

A small, feral smile broke the hard line of his lips. “You would.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Consider I might have done it for you instead.” The smile faded and the stone-cold expression I had quickly learned to fear took its place.

With death looming, though, it seemed fear ran a distant second to my temper. I exploded, rounding on the demon as best I could given the confines of the seatbelt. “For me? Holy shit, Cain! Destroying a friendship isn’t something you do for someone!” My chest heaved and I felt the same traitorous tears scald my eyes.

“You are so unbelievably naïve!” he yelled, slamming on the brakes and sliding to a stop in the sand and rock of the shoulder. “If you have any chance, you’ve got to know, without a doubt, where people’s breaking point is when it comes to self-preservation. You need to know what the people around you are capable of, Dani.”

“Yeah? And where’s yours, Cain? What’s going to break you?” I twisted to stare straight ahead through a windshield marred with road grime and windshield wiper patterns. “Oh wait. Seems you just let a little nugget slip, didn’t you? You, who’s so careful to stay in control. You, who’s so certain to always have all the answers. I now know exactly what you’re capable of.”

“Don’t you dare pretend to understand my motivations.”

“Fine.” I looked away when I addressed him again. “Don’t do me any favors in the future.”

“You better hope that I choose to do just the opposite of that.”

“Whatever.” I leaned my seat back. “I’m done with this whole fucking mess.” Another unlicensed sob broke free and I knew if I gave in, cradled the hurt for even a second, I’d break down. Pressing my fist hard and deep into my abdomen helped me refocus. “I’ve got to get out of my head. I’m going to close my eyes. Should you feel the need to kill me, do me a favor and make it less painful than the last half hour has been—you know, toothpicks under the nails followed by a butter knife to the heart should do it. Or you could always take a second stab at my back.” I turned on my hip, pressed my forehead to the cool glass, and closed my eyes.

“Shut up, Dani.” Cain’s voice was harsh, full of unidentifiable emotion.

I let my mind begin to wander through my different options, none of which looked promising. Even if Cain had truly outed K “for” me as he claimed, and if he’d done it strictly as a protective measure, it didn’t matter.

I now officially had nothing to look forward to and no home that called me back.

THE SUN SET IN A blaze of brilliant hues of pink, purple and orange while we continued north. Cain’s direction was random, erratic even, with no discernable logic. Occasionally he would turn and head south only to circle back to our northerly direction. The darkness and the silence provided a type of false security, and I wrapped the jacket around myself and let exhaustion have its way with me.

I don’t know how long I slept, only that I surfaced to consciousness slowly, stalked by a mild headache and unbearable cold. The flip-flops and light jacket weren’t enough for the temperature wherever we were.

Civilization erupted beyond the car’s dark cocoon, assaulting my senses with flashes of neon. Colors bled together, appearing as electrified wounds against the grays and blacks of urbania. The dull ache at the base of my skull pulsed in time with the flashes of streetlights as we passed below their sodium vapor glow. My eyes adjusted and I lolled my head to look at Cain. “Probably ridiculous to even ask, but where are we?’“

He glanced at me. “You’re right. It’s ridiculous to ask.”

I shook my head and started to look, very carefully, at my surroundings. The main street was six lanes wide and lit well. The city was alive, bursting with activity at every turn. Side roads were darker, though, hosting far less traffic. Few businesses were open at this time of night. A lot of opportunities to disappear. There were busses and a handful of cabs so public transportation was available. Snow had drifted into small piles; I’d need to get better shoes and a heavier coat.

We pulled into another underground parking garage. The deck we were on was almost full but Cain managed to snag a spot near the elevators. We sat listening to the ticking of the engine as it cooled, watching people come and go, both of us consciously aware of each other. The hair on the back of my neck seemed to come to life, coaxed to standing, at the same time my back muscles shivered and rolled. Slowly, I turned to look at Cain.

The demon stared at me intently. His eyes roamed over my face and he seemed to be memorizing everything about me. Orange-flecked eyes met mine and he lifted his chin, drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He turned away with deliberate control, laid his head against the headrest and scrubbed his face with his hands.

I’d had enough. There were plenty of things going on in my life that I had to sort out, make sense of, and I had zero intention of adding him to the list. He could be vague and mysterious and threatening with someone else. I needed some space. Intent on getting out of the car, I reached for the door hand and his hand shot out and grabbed my arm in a bruising grip.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

Ignoring the jackrabbit pace of my heart, I slowly looked down at his hand then up to meet his hard gaze. “You have absolutely no right to put your hands on me, so don’t.”

“Answer my question, angel.”

The nickname delivered an inexplicable, unanticipated blow. “Stop calling me that,” I whispered.

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“It belonged to someone else, Cain, someone I no longer am. Now let me go.” I jerked on my arm and he released me.

He moved toward me, leaning across the console to invade my space until I found myself mashed against the door. “I’m going to get out of the car and come open your door. You will stay near me, within arm’s reach at all times. We’re going to ride the elevator to the lobby and get a room. You are going to remain silent while I make the arrangements. If you so much as signal a security guard, I will make you hate your life.”

“That threat’s too little, too late. You’ll have to come up with something new and improved if you want me to quake with fear.”

His lips twitched. “You know, I’ve got to say I admire the hell out of you. Shit’s raining down on you in a torrential downpour and you still manage to dish out the snark.”

My face felt stony. “I live to entertain you.”

Laughter died away. “I suppose that, at this point, you do just that.” He got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side while keeping his eyes on me. Opening my door, he leaned in, his voice deceptively soft and undeniably lethal. “Don’t do anything stupid. Public spaces don’t afford you any guarantees. Tarron’s mistake was to seek privacy in order to carry out the contract. I don’t mind a little voyeurism.”

Nodding, I slowly rose. “I get it.” He reached for my arm and I stepped back, keeping out of reach. “Don’t touch me, Cain. I meant it.”

“Fine. You’re in front of me, but stay close and to my left. If you get too far away, Dani, I will touch you, and without reservation or apology. Now go.”

I turned for the elevator lobby and stopped abruptly. “Are you going to execute…” I couldn’t put myself in that sentence. “The contract. Are you going to execute the contract? Here.”

The air stirred as he leaned in close, his breath whispering across my ear. “Go.”

My stomach clenched in abject fear and I felt my heart trip in my chest. Part of me was determined to take control of the situation at hand while another part, a much smaller part, whispered constantly, “But he hasn’t killed you. Every second you’re alive is an opportunity to change your fate.”

One way or another, something had to give, and if I had to force my hand? So be it.

WE RODE THE ELEVATOR up to a hotel lobby more lushly appointed than anything I’d ever seen outside of magazine spreads. Cain walked straight up to the counter and asked for a suite with butler service. The desk attendant looked him over with clear disdain, taking in the long hair, nylon track pants and t-shirt from the last hotel, and he clearly wasn’t impressed. Something about the black credit card Cain slapped on the desk changed the guy’s mind. A flurry of phone calls were made as personnel were shifted and an apparent army of staff was sent to give the suite a once over. Cain and I were treated with deference while we waited, offered drinks and spa services. The demon accepted the first and declined the second, all with an air of general indifference.

We sat in the lobby, Cain nursing a beer while I sipped a Coke. A black-suited man approached us, stopping several deferential feet away. “Sir? Madam? The penthouse is ready. If you’ll follow me?”

“Penthouse?” I asked, schooling my face as we stood and moved after the man.

Cain shrugged and swept his arm out, gesturing for me to follow the suit.

Once inside the elevator, the man put a keycard into a slot above the floor numbers and punched in a code. We rode in silence, my anxiety ratcheting as the floor levels flashed by on the digital display. The number 30 was followed by a “P” and the elevator stopped. Doors swept open to reveal a small, private foyer.

Our attendant unlocked the lone door and held it wide to allow us to pass through. I could only stare. The rooms were individually larger than my trailer. Collectively? They were larger than the average American home. I glanced at Cain who stood chatting with our attendant and took a chance. Wandering away, I took the place in, ending up in a cavernous bathroom attached to the second bedroom.

“Dani!” Cain’s voice startled me and I dropped the bottle of shampoo into the tub. He stalked into the bathroom, nostrils flared and eyes burning. “What part of ‘don’t leave my side’ did you not get?”

I sucked in a breath. “We’re in a freaking hotel room. No matter how large it is, it’s a contained space. Where did you think I was going to go?”

His rapid breathing slowed, and his corded neck muscles relaxed. “Fine. Let me rephrase my earlier directive. You’ll stay with me. Period.”

“I’m fast moving from ‘strong dislike’ to ‘distinctive hatred’ of you.”

“You wound me. Now c’mon.” He started out of the room and I had a brief moment of defiance that was squashed by the cold look he threw over his shoulder.

I followed him out and was surprised to see him sink into the deep leather sofa, gesturing for me to join him. “Why?”

“For the love of all that’s holy, will you just sit the fuck down?” he groused.

Stung, I settled onto the last cushion, as far from him as I could get. “Where’s the suit?”

“The butler’s name is Paul. I sent him out for a few things.” Cain glanced at the wall clock, then slid down and stretched his legs out, propping his feet on the coffee table and resting his head against the back pillow. “He’ll be back in a couple hours. Dinner will be here in a few minutes.”

Swallowing my rattled emotions, I asked, “Why are we here, Cain?”

He rolled his head toward me, the movement slow and lazy. “We have to spend the night somewhere. Might as well be here.”

Feeling like a Sherpa navigating the hazardous mountain ranges of Denial, I shook my head and kept my eyes roving, taking in the room, taking in anything, everything, but his long, lean form. “No. I meant what are we doing here?” The silence grew heavy and I gradually turned my reluctant gaze on him, surprised to find an answering stare, steady and unblinking. The muscles on my back twitched again and I rolled my shoulders. “Answer me, Cain.”

“I don’t owe you answers, Dani.”

What the hell, I thought. I’m basically dead no matter what happens. Might as well push him a little and see. At least the butler will be back soon to find my body if this goes south.

“What are the terms of the contract?” I asked, my voice so low I wasn’t sure he’d hear me. I shouldn’t have worried. The message got through just fine.

Cain tensed and went preternaturally still. “You don’t want to do this.”

I swiveled toward him and tucked my legs under me. “Yeah, I think I do.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’m still breathing aren’t I? Tends to leave a girl a little curious,” I said, fighting the urge to plead. “The terms of the contract—what are they?”

“I’ve never met someone so intent on catching up to his own funeral procession,” he muttered. Pushing himself to sitting and leaning forward, the demon propped his thick forearms on his knees. “It’s been upgraded to an ESO—Execute on Sight Order.” He dipped his chin and dark hair slid forward, partially obscuring his face. “I’m clear to do this any time.”

I nodded involuntarily, the motion stilted and lethargic. My lungs froze. I couldn’t draw a decent breath. My heart slowed and I became hyperaware of the strangest things—the touch of fabric on my skin, the way my hair brushed my back, the smell of the fresh flowers that must have been rushed up here after Cain requested the room, the metallic taste of fear that coated my tongue.

Cain shrugged and wove his hands together, steepling his pointer fingers.

“Why, Cain?”

“It’s what I’m paid to do.” Burning eyes met mine. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know. I’ve been honest with you about that from day one.”

I choked on a near hysterical laugh. “Right.” ESO’s were reserved for special circumstances. Why would…the Key. No fucking way. “I’m not the Key. It’s a fictional object, Cain. Get that through your head and take the idea back to Sheol.” The words were wooden, my voice rough-hewn.

“You think this is all based on fiction? That it’s some merry little hunt we’re running on a maybe? Shit, Dani. You really should live in one of those plastic bubbles. As to why I’m collecting you? That’s between me and the contractor.” He turned his attention to the floor-to-ceiling windows and feigned interest in the low altitude clouds that raced across the night sky.A strange sense of morbidity seemed to compel me to ask the next question. “How’s a soul collected?”

Cain choked on an exhale and rubbed his chest slowly. “You’ve got a sick sense of curiosity, angel.”

“I said don’t call me that,” I bit out. “Tell me, Cain. Consider it a part of the job you’re undoubtedly being well compensated to carry out.”

He laughed, the sound dry and mirthless. “My job ends where Samil’s begins, sweetheart.”

The endearment that fell so easily, so fraudulently, from his lips nearly undid me. I had a brief vision of me throwing myself on him, promising him anything, if he’d just get me out of this mess. Not going to happen, so choose a different prize behind a different door, my conscience demanded. I was about to open my mouth and ask again, nicer this time, when he gave me a half-lidded, thin-lipped look.

“When your body dies, your soul is released but remains tethered to the body for roughly twelve hours. Depending on a variety of factors, an Angel of Death from either Sheol or Malkuth is dispatched to collect. He comes in and embraces the tethered soul, drawing it close and wrapping his wings around the embodiment of the person.” Cain glanced at me then away. “The angel’s soul separates from his body for a millisecond and physically embraces the unclaimed soul, thus claiming it for either Sheol or Malkuth. He draws it into himself and then ferries it to its final destination where it’s released. Malkuth is a pleasant trip, I’ve heard. Sheol?” He couldn’t suppress his shudder. “Not so much.”

“How do you know?”

He shook his head. “Even the damned retain a piece of their soul, Dani. I made the trip and I remember every horrible, miserable, forsaken second of it.”

I thought about what he’d said. “Then if you’re going to kill me, if Samil’s so bent on collecting me, have I been damned?” The thought was enough to make my heart ache. I thought I’d led a faithful life, been a good friend and a voice for right.

Cain arched a single brow. “Seriously? You’ve got no idea.”

“None,” I choked out.

“Holy help us all, this has got to be worse than having the birds and the bees talk with a horny teenage boy.” He ran his hands through his hair and pulled at it before releasing it. “You’re the first and only angel born with truly free will, Dani. It’s how we’re sure you’re the Key. You’re an unclaimed soul because you haven’t declared yourself for either side.”

“Then do I choose?” I couldn’t contain the hope in my voice.

Cain’s face became very guarded. “Sort of.”

“‘Sort of.’ Great. Let me just say that this whole free will thing sucks.”

“Don’t you ever, ever say that,” he ground out. “Free will is invaluable and you saying otherwise only evidences your ignorance.”

Rattled, I realized I needed more information. Cain was withholding something, so I tried a different approach. “So if I’ve got free will, why is Sheol hunting me so hard?”

Cain’s grin was grim. “You’re an undeclared soul on the battlefield, Dani. Whoever gets to you first, gets you.”

I swallowed hard. “Why isn’t Samil here himself, then? If I’m such a prize, I’d think he would feel a little more compelled to participate.”

His head snapped around and he sat up, deliberate in every movement. “When’s the last time you saw Samil?”

I shrugged and Cain stood, towering over me.

“Answer me, Dani. When’s the last time you saw your father?”

“My past, my business.”

He was on me before I drew my next breath. Shoving a hand through my hair, he gripped a handful and yanked my head back. My neck hyper-extended as he bent me backward over the arm of the sofa. My hip joints screamed in protest when he spread my legs wide with his own muscled thighs. His free hand wrapped around my jaw and lifted my chin a fraction more. Pain and fear co-owned the tears that traced paths down my temples and into my hair. I blew out like a racehorse, nostrils flaring. My small sound of distress was unavoidable.

“You have a choice” he said, voice baleful. Dropping his face to within inches of mine, he bared his teeth. “Answer me willingly or I’ll force the issue.”

The hand holding my chin relaxed enough that I could open my mouth enough to say, “’Kay.”

Cain let me go all at once and I fell over the end of the sofa, landing on my still-sore shoulders. I gasped and rolled over, panting. It took everything I had to push myself to my hands and knees. My hair fell around my face in cascades of burnished waves, hiding the tears that dripped off my nose. I trembled uncontrollably. Pushing Cain’s buttons hadn’t been one of my better ideas. Clearly.

Bare feet moved into my field of view at the same time the doorbell rang.

“Dinner, I’m sure. Get control of yourself then move back to the sofa. We’ll eat here.” He walked away.

Holy of Malkuth, who was he? The demon I’d come to know at the Fair seemed like a faint, far-removed outline overlaid now with a harsh new reality. Violence was his primary nature, dominant aggression his only means of negotiation and force his only attempt at compromise.

The tinny sounds of metal lids clinking pushed me to my feet. Damn if I’d be on the floor when he came back in here. I ended up on the sofa where I sat rubbing my miserably sore neck and wondering how best to answer his questions. Honesty was the only real option because the idea of being caught lying to him nearly paralyzed me.

Cain rolled a food-laden cart into the living area and pushed the coffee table out of the way so he could park it within easy reach. “I didn’t know what you’d want so I ordered you a pasta dish with chicken and a steak with asparagus.” He picked up a heavy plate with a steak and baked potato and dug in, clearly nonplussed by what had just happened.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Not eating won’t change anything.” He gestured with his fork. “Eat.”

No way could I keep down a heavy meal. Looking at the cart, I spied a piece of chocolate cake with raspberry sauce. I picked up the plate gingerly and hunted for a fork before settling back into the corner of the sofa. Eating was so far off my priority list that the motions were simply rote. Every bite was ash in my mouth. The cake disappeared and I reached for a small bowl of custard with berries on top. It wasn’t any better.

Cain finished off two separate platefuls of food before he leaned back and watched me carefully. “You want something else?”

I shook my head.

“No point in delaying then.” He selected a beer from the cold box on the cart and twisted the top off. His throat worked as he downed roughly half the contents before taking a breath. The bottle hung loose in his grasp, fingers around the neck, thumb rubbing the rim absently. “Here’s how this will go. I have several questions. I ask, you answer honestly. No bullshit, no evasion, no redirecting my questions. The longer your answers, well, the longer you live. Clear?”

I shot him a glance out of the corner of my eye and nodded once, sharp. He could, and would, ask whatever he wanted. My intent was to answer with as little information as possible and drag it out with repetition. I wasn’t stupid, though. If I antagonized him to the point he either broke me—which he could, and would, do—or killed me, escape was no longer an option.

“When’s the last time you saw Samil?”

“Twenty-one years ago.”

His jaw flexed and he lifted the beer bottle, took another long draw, then began absently picking at the label. “Be more specific.”

“He and my mother left me when I was eight.”

His fingers stilled. “Left you. With whom?”

“No one. They abandoned me.” I wrapped my arms around my middle involuntarily as I sought both comfort and reassurance, neither of which had ever been freely available to me.

Cain set the bottle aside and stood abruptly. He walked to the window, arms behind his back and clasped one over the other at the wrist. Several minutes passed and he said nothing. Finally, shifting so he was in profile, he asked, “Did you know you were the Key?”

“I don’t believe it now. Why would I have believed it then?” Easing to my feet, I moved away from him, wanting as much space between us as I could get.

A single nod. “Stop right there.”

Damn it. I stopped.

“Your mother?”

“Banshee. No idea where she is.”

“Extended family?”

“None.”

He pushed his hair from his face, dug a rubber band out of his pocket and settled a loose ponytail at the base of his neck. Looking down at his hands, he flexed them—closed then stretched wide open—before letting them fall to his sides. “All right. Childhood?”

“You know I was raised by the MoFiA.” Snapshots of my past flooded my consciousness, uprooting memories I didn’t want as my history any more than I’d wanted them when they’d been my present.

A new callousness marred his features. Full lips thinned and created a harsh sneer. “You expect me to believe this?”

“It’s the truth.”

Cain grasped the back of his neck, lacing his fingers together. Muscles shifted and bulged under his shirt, emphasizing his physical presence, enhancing the sense of menace that rolled off him in agitated waves. “Uh-huh. How’d you end up at the Fair?”

“Stop it. Please.” I hated myself, loathed myself, for begging, but I could feel another emotional break looming, imminent. I had taken so many hits today after guarding myself for so long. He was breaking me down. To be stripped bare by this man was a violation of my personal code.

Hands on his hips, he stared at the cityscape before turning with exaggerated slowness to address me. “I don’t want to have to force the answers out of you, Dani, but I will. So answer the question. How did you end up at the Fair?”

“I hate you,” I breathed.

His face closed down and fine lines formed at the corners of tightened eyes. Cheekbones that had been attractive before suddenly seemed more pronounced, knife-like over his defined jaw line. His nostrils flared. “I’m sure. Last time I’m asking—how’d you end up at the Fair?”

“I got kicked out of the MoFiA foster home right before my twenty-third birthday.” An emotional vortex opened up beneath me and I felt myself begin to fall, spiraling out of control. No one knew this guarded, abstruse me, and I realized, “You haven’t earned this intimacy.” I couldn’t believe I’d said it, let the thought loose.

“You want me to earn it?” He moved toward me with predatory grace, his eyes blazing brighter, body fluid, raw sexuality riding the air waves as he came. “If that’s what you want, all you have to do is ask.”

I backed up so fast I slammed into the wall, hard. A picture crashed to the floor, glass shattering and skipping across the hardwood. “Stop it.”

“Then answer me.”

“I had nowhere else to go, okay?” Panic clutched my ankles before scaling my legs with sharp claws that dug in at every contact point. “Who was going to hire me with no skills, a government foster file and freaky eyes? I was marked a half-breed at the very least. I had nothing. Five hundred dollars to start a new life.” The vortex pulled harder and, if I closed my eyes, the sensation of falling vaulted my stomach into my throat. “No one wanted me, Cain. They literally locked the door behind me when they set me out. I had no one to go to, nowhere to call home and no skills to speak of. I did the best I could.”

A deep line etched a V between his brows. “Why didn’t you tell Khavien you were an angel?”

Fear shot through me, and it was a fight to keep from sprinting for the door. All I wanted to do was get away. “They would have locked me up, Cain! I failed to check myself in for genetics verification as directed after leaving the MoFiA. I ran, and the last thing I wanted was a paper trail. Giving K my name was hard enough. Besides, I’m not exactly an angel.”

“Don’t. Lie.”

His snarl decided my internal war and I bolted for the door. Cain anticipated my move and intercepted me. Grabbing me around the waist, he deposited me on the sofa without apology and stood looming over me.

I sat up and rested my hands on my knees as my feet bounced like mad. The muscles of my back itched and moved unnaturally. “I’m not lying. I’m half angel, half banshee. It’s got to be where my visions come from. I’ve never met anyone else like me. Can you imagine what would have happened to me if the mundanes found out?” My voice rose and I began to feel as if I was having an out-of-body experience. My existential self demanded silence while my physical self wouldn’t shut up. “I’d have been the subject of studies, tests, threat assessments—a medical curiosity and potential risk because of my father. I couldn’t, Cain.” I shook my head, eyes wide and breathing too hard, too fast. “I wouldn’t have been able to do anything to stop it from happening. I couldn’t shift, I didn’t have any special means of defense, I couldn’t protect myself and there was no one there to help me. Don’t you see?” Cold sweat trickled between my breasts and I shivered hard. “I couldn’t protect myself. Anonymity was the only self-defense I had.”

“Fuck.”

Yeah, that about summed it up.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I TRIED ONE LAST time to get to the door, but Cain stopped me effortlessly. And damn if I wasn’t sitting on the sofa again, knees pressed to my chest. At least the involuntary rocking stopped after a few minutes. Cain’s harsh, barked orders forced me to get it together. Both demanding and unforgiving, he forced my brain to re-engage and my body to answer his commands.

The demon took his shirt off, balled it up and hurled it at the wall. He did the same with his flip-flops, cursing in rapid Sheolian. When he pulled a gun from the small of his back, I stopped breathing. He set it on the end table and re-tied the string on his nylon jogging pants—the last holdover he wore from the Idaho resort.

Earlier, when Cain had admitted to feeling no guilt over his order to kill me and then Khavien had admitted his part in this, I hadn’t thought I could break any further. I’d been wrong. Defining my past and then giving voice to my life-long fears had fed the vacuum inside, the void spreading until I felt unbearably empty. My heartbeat seemed to echo. Part of me was ashamed I’d fallen apart. Another part of me didn’t give a damn, and was simply focused on keeping the critical systems operating.

“How long do I have left?”

Cain stood near the fireplace mantle, chest heaving, jaw locked, eyes too bright. “It’s impossible for me to answer that question right now.”

“Give me something,” I whispered.

“It’s not my job to answer questions. My job ends with delivery of the contract to the contractor.”

My eyes drifted to the gun he’d laid on the end table. What do I have to lose?

He watched my internal conversation. “Don’t do it, Dani.”

I exploded off the sofa at the same time he launched himself for the gun but I was closer. I got my hands on the Sig Sauer. He got his hands on me. We grappled, fighting for real dominance. I bit, scratched, kicked—anything I could do to keep my hands on the pistol grip. The reality was, though, that there was little I could do in the face of his skill. It soon became a matter of pride. I knew he’d take the gun from me; I wanted to make him bleed before he did.

Leg sweeping me, Cain spun me as I fell. He rode me to the ground face down, straddled my hips and leaned forward to press my arms into the Oriental carpet. I bucked hard, threw my head back, and connected with some part of his face. There was a solid thunk and he relaxed just a bit. I managed to wiggle a couple of feet forward. He flipped me over again and, dripping blood everywhere, crawled over me. I’d split his cheek open just below his eye. We were both breathing hard. My back itched and because I didn’t know how to control it, it scared me.

“Be still,” he growled, pinning me down. “Get yourself under control. Now. Pull any more shit like this and you’re going to make this an easy decision. Understand?”

I nodded quickly. Make this an easy decision… He truly hadn’t decided. I froze, muscles trembling with excess adrenaline as I wrapped myself around that flimsy thread of hope.

“Stay down.” The demon pushed to standing, the gun in one hand while with the other he probed the split on his cheek. “Damn it,” he muttered. A knock at the door sounded and Cain groaned. “That’s all I need—having to explain this to a stranger.” Digging out his wallet, he removed a wad of large bills and headed to the door.

I could hear a conversation, soft voices, the rustle of paper and plastic. The front door shut and I lifted my head in time to see Cain walk back into the living room with a literal armload of stuff. He dumped it on the small side chair and, still holding the gun, walked over to me.

“Get up.”

Standing, my legs wobbled and he reached out to grab my arm. I flinched and his hand fell away before he touched me. One of the packages he’d set in the chair slid to the floor with a plastic splat and he glanced back. Stepping over to the chair, he set the gun on the arm, snatched the package off the floor and ripped it open. Pulling out a pair of distressed jeans, he unashamedly dropped his pants.

I looked away, but not before I got an eyeful of the guy’s junk. Holy shit. A fierce blush flooded my face and Cain sighed.

“What?” he demanded as he stepped into the jeans.

“I just…um…” I shrugged. “Nothing.”

“That’s right.” He pulled on a black long-sleeved shirt. “They saddled me with inexperience. What a cosmic fucking joke.” Cain snorted and turned back to the bags and boxes, digging through them until he found what he wanted—a leather shoulder holster. Shrugging into it, he tucked the gun into the holster.

“It doesn’t matter,” I muttered, my embarrassment adding another impossible layer of color to my face.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I’d like to lie down if you don’t mind.” The stresses of the day had taken their toll and I was pretty sure I was about to hit the proverbial wall.

“Actually, that’s probably a good idea.” He sat on the edge of the coffee table and pulled on socks followed by a pair of black motorcycle boots.

“It is?” The surprise in my voice couldn’t be disguised

“Yeah. I’ve got to go out, and it’ll be easier on both of us if you get some sleep while I do.” He went back to digging around in the various bags, coming up with a disposable cell phone and a small, unmarked white box. Sliding each into different back pockets, he ripped open a hanging bag and withdrew a gorgeous black leather jacket. Instead of putting it on, he tossed it over the back of the chair and gestured toward the bedroom I hadn’t wandered through earlier. “After you.”

My feet were rooted in place. “I don’t need your help to get ready for bed.”

“I insist.” Again he bared his teeth in a rough approximation of a smile. “Now go.”

Moving like an automaton, I made my way around the remains of his impromptu fashion show. The bedroom was dark and it took a second to find the light switch. Cain loomed, his presence making an uncomfortable situation worse than it would have otherwise been. How many kidnapped women knew their captors went commando? My money was going to go low with that particular bet.

The lights in the room were set to dim. I would have adjusted them to a brighter setting but Cain put a hand on my shoulder and gently pushed me away from the wall.

“Lay on the bed, hands over your head, and close your eyes.”

“What?” I choked out. “No.”

“It wasn’t a question and didn’t require an answer.” He spread his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. “Now do it.”

I looked over my shoulder at the bed then back to him. “I’m not getting in bed with you.”

Barking out a laugh, he reached back and pulled the small box out of his jeans pocket. The lid folded back and a pair of black handcuffs slid out into his palm. Cain held the cuffs up and waved them at me. “I’m not getting into bed with you, either. Lay down.”

Nothing made sense. “I can’t let you do this.”

That was the end of the conversation. The demon stepped in to me and shoved, hard. I tripped backward and fell toward the bed. Once again, he rode me down as I struggled. He straddled my ribcage and sat down, tightening his thighs so I couldn’t breathe. Air wouldn’t come no matter what I did and I started to panic. The fight changed from an indignant protest to necessity as I struggled to expand my lungs, and Cain grabbed one arm and stretched it above my head, clasping the handcuff around the wrist. The other end was closed around the iron scrollwork in the bed’s headboard.

Wheezing, I gulped in air when he shoved off me. “You son of a bitch.”

He glowered at me. “Not quite, angel, but not far off the mark either. I’ve got to feed. It’s been too long. So I either find a willing source or I take it by force, and I’m not far from being forced to take what I want.” Spinning on his heel, he started for the door, pausing at the light switch. “Lights on or off?”

“What?”

“On then.” He looked back. “If you’d gone willingly, I would have left you the remote. Sweet dreams.”

TIME WASN’T ON MY side in so many ways. It was like time had a real hard on for me and was bound and determined to see me suffer with a broad variety of knowledge, all related to a future I couldn’t see any more than I could control it. Knowing my father was looking for me in some capacity terrified me since I knew he wasn’t above killing me to capture my soul. The knowledge that Cain had an ESO with my name on it made me sick. Seeing the demon’s personality morph into that of a hardened killer’s made me unbearably sad. I’d really—ultimately—liked the Cain I’d originally met. Simply knowing Khavien’s involvement had killed a small part of me, though a tiny part remained that called for vengeance. And finally, knowing Cain was out feeding was tearing me up in a variety of ways, none of which I was terribly interested in analyzing.

My mind stuck on that final point in my litany against time. I couldn’t really imagine what it would take for him to feed, but it undoubtedly involved some aspect of sex. Eyes closed, I couldn’t stop the slideshow of images that revolved around the demon, particularly those of him naked. However brief the view had been, it had definitely made an impression. Part of me hated him for that.

The room’s quiet unnerved me. Every bump, tick and click became suspect. When the electronic lock hummed, I nearly screamed. Instead of a large demon filling the doorway, though, all I heard were the sounds of someone moving around the living area.

I bit my bottom lip and struggled with the need to call out paralleled by the need to remain silent and undiscovered. Familiar rustling of paper and plastic made me fight to stay calm. It was the butler. Freedom lay on the other side of the bedroom door. I’d have given anything to be able to order him to release me but, with the amount of cash that had changed hands earlier, I had to assume he’d been bribed. The butler would be discreet and earn his wage without raising the alarm. Besides, there was no telling what Cain had told the man. I huffed.

“Madam?” he called out. “I’m your butler, Paul. I understand you’re not to be disturbed.”

“Paul, listen.”

“Please, madam. He—that is, your male companion—indicated you were not to be disturbed under any circumstance. I’m leaving your packages here. Good night.” The sharp click of his shoes across the marble entry was so opposite Cain’s near silent movement. When the door clicked shut behind him, a part of me sagged. I needed a few minutes to get myself together before I started to plan.

THE KEY WAS GOING to be getting my wings to come out and play, to use their strength to break me free. Somehow. My mind raced through the parking garage incident, adrenaline beating a drum line throughout my system. Muscles rolled through my back and it seemed like my wings were independently anxious, if that was possible. Thinking about the violence of my first evolution, I couldn’t help but shudder. It had hurt, bad, and that wasn’t part of tonight’s plan.

A word. There had been a single word I’d been compelled to cry out. That word had called my wings out of my back as if they’d been there forever. I let my mind wander, thinking through a variety of words and definitions. I slipped into a deep sleep.

The sound of the heater clicking on startled me and I jerked awake. Cursing softly, I racked my brain to try to figure what I’d been dreaming about. There were sounds and voices and this light—none of it was familiar but, at the same time, I’d known it all. Closing my eyes again, I let myself fall into a state of abeyance. I was neither entirely asleep nor fully awake. Two words rippled through my mind and floated to the surface. My eyes snapped open and my breath hitched. I tilted my chin back and watched the handcuff as I wound it through the intricate iron scrollwork, moving it so I could roll over and go to my knees. Clutching my free hand to my chest, I fisted it between my breasts and closed my eyes. This was going to hurt.

“Chayah.”

Nothing happened. Then the rolling in my back muscles started, but this time it was accompanied by an impossible stretching sensation. My fingers turned white as I clutched the headboard tight and waited for the evolutionary pain. Skin on my back slid around like dough and the wings began to push out rapidly. I gasped. They shredded my shirt in one push, snapping open and nearly knocking me off the bed. My cuffed wrist twisted painfully, leaving the skin abraded and raw. I looked over my shoulder and watched as my wings slowly fanned themselves. They were dry. This was a radical change from the way the initial evolution had occurred.

I shifted my weight around, struggling under the impressive mass of bone, feather and muscle I wasn’t used to carrying. The cuffs rattled and I glanced down. How the hell was I going to get these things off and get away from here? I tugged and was surprised to see the iron of the headboard bend. I tugged harder. Nothing. Scooting back, I braced my free hand on the headboard and pulled. Metal groaned and my wrist protested, but nothing gave. Sighing, I gave in to impulse and yanked. The cuff snapped the headboard decorations like they were crystallized sugar. Stunned, I couldn’t stop staring first at my hand and then at the broken bed. Shaking my head, I stood and smiled. “Nice job, She-rah.”

My heartbeat felt like a thunderous beacon to anyone in the area and, when I peeked between the door and frame, I half expected someone to pop up and scare the shit out of me. Yet I neither saw nor heard anyone, so I crept out into the living areas. My footsteps seemed to echo, the faint sounds noticed earlier were louder and my general sense of sight was stronger. A whole fourth spectrum appeared, and colors were richer, more vibrant, than ever before. Wingtips dragged along the floor and I struggled to pick them up to keep them out of the glass from earlier. They were so incredibly heavy. I paused to lean against the dining room wall, palms of my hands pressed against the drywall and my head hanging. There was no time for exhaustion. I had to get rid of the wings or I’d never make it out of the hotel.

“Cthar.”

My wings flared wide then folded in on themselves, tucking up close to my body as a perfect reverse dance of rolling muscle and slipping skin, shifting sinew and rearranging bone worked in harmony to pull my wings into an impossibly unaccommodating body. How could they fit? I wondered. And why are you worried about this now? Get the hell gone and worry about internal organization later.

My shredded shirt whispered around the bared skin of my back, the demolished bra straps slipping over my shoulders. Shit. Replacement clothes. I went to the living room and found a couple more shirts, another pair of jeans, boxers, socks—all for Cain. I turned to the front door with a sigh. I’d have to…bags. The butler had come in with bags.

Racing for the dining room, I skidded to a halt at the sight of all the bags and boxes settled around one end of the table. A dozen tentative steps found me staring down at packages from upper-end retail stores. Cain wouldn’t have…would he? Trying to keep from hyperventilating, I opened the first bag, then the second. The rest were just a blur. The demon had clearly sent the butler back to shop for me. There were more new clothes here than I’d ever had—probably more than I’d ever tried on—and they were all in my size or nearly my size. Designer jeans, name brand tees, silk and satin lingerie, socks, expensive shoes; he’d forgotten nothing.

A riot of emotions confused my purpose. He’d sent the butler back. Did that mean he’d decided in my favor? Surely a well-dressed corpse wasn’t part of the contract. Or had he bought the clothes as an afterthought in an effort to keep me clothed while he decided? Did it matter so long as I wasn’t dead? I stood too long in front of the table before the mini-bar refrigerator hummed, the sound mimicking the elevator, and I jerked back to the moment. Nope. It didn’t matter at all. My survival was in my own hands. I couldn’t sit around and wait for him to make up his mind. I ripped tags off clothes and dressed as fast as I could. Grabbing the buttery leather jacket, I raced for the door.

Freedom and survival were thirty floors below, and I’d be damned if I didn’t make it. Quite literally.

EVERY FLOOR THE ELEVATOR stopped at on its laborious trip to the ground floor made me want to puke. I kept scooting farther and farther back, hoping to be able to exit in the crush of occupants and go unnoticed. The coat sleeves were just long enough to cover the handcuff still linked to my wrist, the broken end tucked up under the cuff. I wouldn’t imagine how I’d explain it if the freaking thing fell out. Love games gone wrong? I blushed and closed my eyes, working to surreptitiously push the cuff up just a little further.

When the doors dinged open that final time, I followed the group into the lobby, moving toward the front door with purpose. The revolving door swung slowly, sucking in one or two people at a time before spitting them out under the porte cochere. I stepped inside when it was my turn and shuffled around. When the door set me out, it was all I could do not to sprint away from the building. Forcing a leisurely pace, I shoved my hands in my coat pockets and winced at the wind’s bite. With no idea where to go or what to do, and not a single dollar to my name, I refused to panic. I was free. It was time to put some distance between me and Captain Kavorkian.

NORMALLY I WOULD HAVE commended the hotel for its phenomenal landscape lighting and patrolling security guards. Tonight, though, they worked against me. People greeted me and I smiled and nodded back, courteous but not friendly, as I tried to keep my face averted.

A large hand grasped my upper arm and I whirled to face my assailant.

The porter withdrew his hand, concern drawing his brows together. “Can I get you a cab, miss?”

I swallowed hard and shook my head, coaxing a fragile smile. “No, thank you. I’m just going across the street to…” Looking over my shoulder at the fast food restaurant, I tilted my head. “I’m just going to grab a burger.”

He clearly didn’t buy it, but was too well trained to contradict me. Nodding, he stepped back. “Be careful crossing Dillan Avenue, miss. There’s a crosswalk just there.” He pointed and I nodded, moving in the direction he’d indicated.

I made it to the crosswalk and turned south. Crossing the first side street, I turned back and started to jog at a pretty good clip, my breath burning with cold. My eyes watered and my teeth chattered and I pushed harder, anxious to get away from my gilded prison. Ducking down the first alley I saw, I slowed. The wind was blocked here and it wasn’t so bad. If I had to stop to rest later, I’d keep that in mind, maybe tuck in behind a Dumpster.

I dropped my left arm and shook out the cuff, rubbing the chafed skin around my wrist. Irritating. I’d have to find a way to get this thing off. A crash sounded right behind me and I screamed, bolting. The howl of fighting cats caught up to me and I chanced a look back. Nothing, and no one, pursued. A shaky laugh escaped even as my back began to roll. Hunching my shoulders, I started out again at a slow jog. While the darkness of the alley was an effective cloak, it creeped me out.

The road ahead was relatively quiet and I wondered if I had pointed my way toward a residential area. I hoped not. People were much more observant about strangers lurking around their own homes than were about businesses and unfamiliar faces wandering public areas. All I needed was a nice officer arresting me for trespass. In jail I’d be nothing more than a stationary target. I shuddered and my back rolled violently. “Cthar,” I hissed, surprised when the muscles calmed.

The sound of feet rushing along grass terrified me and I sprinted forward at the same time a dog hit the chain-link fence nearby, snarling and snapping at me. My heart thundered in my ears, blood rushed through my veins, and my back went wild, undulating hard enough I felt my clothes pulling as my skin stretched. The urge to shift was almost undeniable. Apparently my wings reacted when danger was near.

I slowed down and dragged a shaking hand over my face. Fear-induced sweat dotted my hairline and snaked down my back in lazy rivulets that made my shirt stick, despite the protest of unrealized wings.

The blow from behind caught me off guard.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I WENT DOWN IN A hail of punches and curses, my unbound hair partially blinding me. I fought like a wild woman, unsure who was on me and pretty sure it didn’t matter. I had nothing on me, nothing to offer an assailant other than my body or my life. Neither option sat well with me.

Swinging an elbow back as hard as I could, I felt it connect with a soft area. My attacker cursed and doubled over at the same time I recognized the voice. He went to his knees, cupping his groin. Cain. I scrambled to my feet and sprinted away, driven by an avalanche of panic that swept me up and catapulted me forward. Ripping the jacket off, I let it fall behind me as I went.

“Chayah!” I yelled.

Wings exploded from my back with a painless thrust, lifting me off my feet and carrying me forward several yards before dropping me awkwardly to the ground. I stumbled before regaining my balance. My wings were still heavy and awkward for me to manage. I tried to flap infantile muscles, but the effort would only lift me and shoot me forward a few yards at a time. Then untried muscles would fail and my wings would droop. I’d fall to the earth and have to do my best to run with that extra weight on my back.

The falls cost precious time as they forced me to slow and recover my balance. Staying well ahead of the enraged demon was my only goal as I limped along like a flightless bird.

Cain had regained his feet. “You’ve got one chance to stop on your own, Dani.” His voice rang down the alley and was answered by a cacophony of dogs barking in the distance.

I whimpered and kept going. The sounds of footsteps pounding after me forced my wings to flap harder and I gained four, maybe five feet of altitude before a hand grabbed my ankle and yanked. We crashed to the ground in a salient pile of limbs and feathers. Cain fought to disentangle himself and pin me to the ground at the same time I tried to protect my wings from damage. Too late.

The demon reached over my shoulder, grabbed a wing where it joined my back and pushed down mercilessly. An involuntary scream escaped and the sounds of glass shattering forced Cain to release my wing and slap a hand over my mouth.

“Pull that shit again and I’m going to gag you. Got it?” he said, grunting as he fought to control my struggles. “I’m going to put you down if you don’t stop!” Flipping me over hard, Cain managed to settle himself on my back, a knee between my shoulders while both hands pressed down on my wings where they joined with my body. The pressure bordered on pain. Several feathers had been ripped out in the struggle, some long enough to be flight feathers, and my wings wept blood at the loss.

“Put me down?” I asked, panting.

“It’s self-explanatory. Now put them away.” He pulled harder and I cried out. “Now. This shit’s going to stop.”

“Let them go.” When he did, I murmured, “Cthar.” My wings folded away just as they had earlier. Without their empowering presence, my body felt every ache, pain, bruise and scrape more pronouncedly. “Get off me.”

Cain wrapped a hand through my hair and pulled my head back so I could see his face. Eyelids at half-mast over blazing orange eyes, his lips were full and his cheeks flushed. “I’m getting sick and fucking tired of coming after you.” He punctuated his words with yanks on my hair. “This is the last time.” Letting my hair go, he pushed my head hard enough that I scraped my chin on the asphalt. “Get up.”

I followed him as he rose and we faced each other in the alley. The moon seemed to alternately spotlight and shadow his face so he was a study in darkness. Monochromatic except for his eyes, he was like the heart of Sheol sculpted from the night. I stared at him, taking in everything about him that terrified and fascinated me, unable to come to terms with the dichotomy of my emotions.

“Back to the hotel,” he snapped, reaching for my arm.

“The ‘Don’t Touch Me’ edict didn’t come with an expiration date. Hands off.” I started down the alley, doing my best not to limp or hold any of my aches and pains. My back felt wet and I reached back to pull at the tattered remains of my shirt. It surprised me to pull my hands back and find them bloodied. Running my hands over the parts of my back I could reach, I found small, deep wounds in arcing patterns. Blood seeped from them steadily.

“The wound pattern looks like the shape of your wings.” Cain’s voice was soft but detached. He stepped in close and leaned down to look at the exposed skin. “I’m guessing the holes are the spots you lost feathers. Hurt?”

“Yeah, it does.”

He stepped in front of me and picked up the jacket I’d discarded. We walked halfway down the alley before the cold was too much for me.

“Can I have my jacket back?”

He shrugged out of his own leather and laid it across my shoulders. I gaped at him and he closed his eyes, shook his head and said, “Don’t make a big deal out of the gesture, Dani. I’ve got to get you through the hotel lobby without questions. I could give you your jacket, but I don’t want to have to buy another one when you get blood on the liner. Mine’s all leather and black, so it won’t show. Now step it up.”

He worked his way out of the shoulder harness as we moved down the alleyway, folding it inside the jacket but leaving the butt of the gun easily accessible.

The hotel came into view in less than twenty minutes and I stopped, suddenly curious. “How did you know I left?”

A small smile, a memory of the demon I thought I’d known, teased one side of his mouth. “Any time the penthouse elevator descends, a bell sounds at the front and concierge desks. That way they know to be on the lookout for the occupants. It’s a customer service tool. For me, it was a safety measure. I told Paul I’d slip him five if he called me in the event you left.”

“He ratted me out for five bucks?” I groused.

“Five hundred.”

I nearly choked. “Hell, if you’d told me you were going to offer that kind of money, I’d have called you myself when I hit the parking lot.”

Cain smiled and shook his head. “You’ve got issues. Now get inside. Straight to the elevator, speak to no one, never out of my sight.”

I took a deep breath. “Nothing’s changed.”

“Nope. Let’s get this over with.”

We walked into the hotel and headed for the penthouse, side by side and worlds apart.

CAIN WAVED OFF THE butler as we walked through the lobby, calling out a word of thanks. Paul’s voice followed after me, wishing me a good night. I raised a hand and waved to acknowledge him but I never slowed down. Cain couldn’t accuse me of not following his directive to the letter this time. We rode the elevator to the penthouse, the silence between us full but not entirely uncomfortable. He seemed to acknowledge I’d try to escape, and I seemed to express an understanding that he’d find me each and every time I tried. It had to have been the absolute strangest acceptance two individuals had ever reached regarding each other.

Walking back into the very room I’d fled an hour ago had an air of surrealism that amused me on a very private and masochistic level. I shed the borrowed jacket and gingerly laid it across the back of a dining table chair as I moved on to the living room. The heavy, whispered sound of leather on wood told me Cain had followed suit, similarly discarding my jacket. The soft footsteps behind me said he followed me as I went.

“Pull your shirt to the side. I want to see your back in the light,” he said, pausing at the mini-bar to retrieve a beer. The picture of nonchalance, he leaned against one of the columns separating the dining and living areas, and watched me for a reaction.

I started to shrug but froze, the movement decidedly unwise. Though the pain wasn’t as serious as that of my initial evolution, my back still hurt. Bad. Easing down onto the edge of the sofa, I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around my lower belly. “Whatever. You just want to see me naked.” Heat colored my cheeks. I’d completely forgotten what he’d been doing earlier and the idea of his hands on a stranger’s body only to touch mine later set my teeth on edge. I sat up slightly and hissed as the cotton of my shirt slid across the puncture wounds. They were mighty for all that they were small.

He shrugged and shook his head. “It’ll be easier if you take your shirt off.”

“Excuse me?” I turned gingerly.

Stalking over to me, he settled himself on the arm of the sofa and reached for the shredded strips of shirt plastered to my back. He paused when I hissed, waiting for me to say something. When I didn’t, he kept peeling away layer by layer until my back was bare to him. A low whistle blew over my shoulder. “Looks worse in the light.”

“Almost everything does.” I aimed for nonchalance and hit well outside the bull’s eye.

“Whatever. Look, I’m spent. I want to go to bed.” He flipped the strips of fabric over my shoulders and stood, stretching.

I waved him on. “By all means, go right ahead.”

Cain chuckled, a dark, ominous warning sound. “Bravery restored so quickly?” When I didn’t answer, he went on. “You blew it when you ran. You’re going to have to stick close until I… until this is over.” He moved the beer bottle back and forth in the light and watched the resulting starburst patterns through the glass.

“I don’t get it.” At least I hoped I didn’t.

“Of course you don’t,” he drawled, drawing a hand down his face, pulling hardest at his lips and chin as he turned away. “You’re going to share a bed with me tonight. Stop it.” His voice was harsh and low, devoid of compassion or humor, and it stopped my sharp intake of breath. “You’ve got fifteen minutes to set yourself to rights in the bathroom, starting now. You can either use that time to argue with me or you can take care of whatever needs you’ve got.” Standing, he tossed the bottle into the garbage can and turned slowly, deliberately, to face me. The crossed-arm, wide-footed stance was familiar enough that the hair on the back of my neck stood as a sense déjà vu tickled my senses. “Don’t be stupid about this.”

“Sure. Okay.” Starting for the dining room table, I had to pass right by him. His hand shot out and gripped my upper arm hard, startling me.

“Where are you going?”

“I need a shirt to sleep in.”

“Uh-uh. That back’s going to need air. Anything you put on it is going to slow your healing. You’ll sleep on your side and we’ll treat it like we did in Idaho. Now go.” Spinning me around, he gave me a light push toward the bathroom.

“You are such a prick.”

“And I’m sure that will make the six o’clock news. I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

“With or without your gun?”

“Don’t think you’ll pull that again,” he snorted. “You went for my gun once? Fine. You tried. But go for my gun again? That would class you ‘too stupid to live,’ and I don’t think even you have that level of desperation going on yet.”

“You’d be surprised,” I whispered, crossing the threshold into the bedroom and moving toward the bath.

“Let’s hope not,” he answered.

I was pretty sure neither of us expected answers to our parting shots.

THE SPRAY FROM THE shower was too harsh on my wound-peppered back so I ended up ignoring it in favor of washing my face and brushing my teeth. The disposable products in the bath were nicer than anything I bought for daily use, and I felt very removed from reality. Really, that was the only answer as to why I had taunted Cain, fought with him and, he was right, tried for the gun earlier. It just hadn’t felt real, hadn’t been real, until he had pulled me out of the air tonight. The reality shift in that moment had rocked me harder than I’d let on. For the first time since this nightmare started, I truly believed my death was imminent. This feeling of desperation, of not having a reasonable hope of survival remaining, had pushed crazier people to do stupider things. History was full of examples—desperate actions leading to horrid endings. I didn’t want to become one of them.

A sharp knock at the door forced me to scramble with the bath sheet in an effort to cover my breasts. “What?” I snapped.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Cain demanded. “You’ve had five extra minutes. Wrap it up.”

Cursing him creatively, I tried to pull a brush through my hair but the tangled mass pulled on my back muscles and I sucked in a breath.

“Dani?” When I didn’t answer, Cain tried the locked door. “Either answer me or I’m coming in, lock or no lock.”

“Forget it. I’m coming out.” I swept by him with as much courage and pride as was possible for someone wearing borrowed boxers and a terrycloth towel. Keeping my eyes averted was a challenge because—Cain being Cain—the demon wore boxer shorts. End of inventory.

He moved by me to fold the bedcovers back and I noticed that extra pillows, likely borrowed from the other room, lined the head of the bed. A foot blanket was folded and created a vertical divider between the pillows. There was even ice in the ice bucket.

I looked at him and arched a brow.

“What? I’m a demon, not a Neanderthal.”

“Huge, remarkable differences genetically, I’m sure.” I smiled demurely.

Cain shocked me by barking out a laugh. “What happened in there?”

Sighing, I held up my brush before tossing it on a chair beside the bed. “I tried to brush my hair but it pulled the muscles in my back. No big deal. I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

“Sit down.” He pointed to the ottoman in front of the room’s wingback chair.

I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”

Cain closed his eyes and dropped his chin. “Are you going to question everything? Because if you are, I’m going to make good on that promise to gag you.”

Gritting my teeth against the urge to smart off, I sat facing the chair, bared back to the room.

Cain moved in front of me, and sat as gracefully as anyone in their underwear ever had. “Turn around.” My brows drew together and the urge to ask must have passed across my face because he grabbed my bare knees and turned me himself. “Have a little faith, angel.” Gentle hands moved through my hair. “Too much pulling, let me know.” He was…brushing my hair.

“Why?” I was so stunned my voice came out tiny, reflecting my confusion.

“Why not?” he countered. He began tugging at the tangles carefully with my brush. “You needed it done and couldn’t do it yourself.”

I sat there under his ministrations, silent and remarkably confused. He worked through my hair one small section at a time, lulling me into a sense of complete calm. No one had brushed my hair since my mother, and those memories were so vague they came through as more dream-like than the pleasure of the reality at my back. I sighed and leaned into him a little.

He slowed his movements incrementally. “I think it’s pretty well done.”

“Okay.”

He kept drawing the brush through the heavy waves of my hair, slowing until he finally removed the brush and set it on a small occasional table near the chair. “Let’s call it a night.”

I nodded, pulling my mass of hair over one shoulder.

“Which side do you want to sleep on?” He moved to the bed and gestured me over.

“If it’s all business, it seems sort of ridiculous to ask.” Nerves made my response sound brusque, almost harsh. I immediately regretted it as the intimacy of the last twenty minutes was swept away.

Cain dropped his chin to his chest and fisted his hands on his hips. “For the love of the Host of Malkuth, will you just tell me whether you sleep on your right side or left?” When I only stared at him, he mistook my silence as obstinance versus introspection. He shook his head and threw his hands up. “Fine. Get in on the right but lay on your left side.”

I crawled in and did as he asked, fumbling a bit as I tried to keep the towel tucked up tight and scrambling wildly to recover when I knew it slipped. Cain grabbed my non-chaffed wrist and clamped a new handcuff on it. “Wait. What?” Before I could pull my hand back, Cain fastened the cuff low on the non-damaged section of the headboard all over again. “Oh, son of a bitch!” I yelled, rattling the cuff.

“Calm down, angel. It’s one night of your life.”

I thumped my forehead against the pillow and shook my head. How stupid was I? Afraid to tempt the Fates into providing an answer, I settled in and tried to get comfortable. He handed me another pillow and I took it, grateful. “Thanks, I guess.”

Without a word, Cain slid under the covers in a fluid movement and flipped the duvet over his boxer-clad hips. He lifted up and wadded his pillow into a lump as he lay down on his back, tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. The glow from the digital display of the alarm clock cast a faint green light across his profile and down his chest.

When his breathing slowed, I gave in to temptation and let my gaze wander across his bared skin. Most of his torso wasn’t covered by the bed linens and there was enough light to allow me to appreciate him without his awareness. Twin barbed-wire tattoos banded his biceps and I’d seen the same circling his thighs when I rushed from the bathroom, eyes down. The tattoos were dimensional and rust-colored, but the lack of light made them look like flat, black line drawings.

His multitudes of scars were almost iridescent in the dim light and I was shocked to see how much damage was revealed. I mean, I’d noticed before, but it was all so much a part of who he was that it didn’t grab my attention until his body wasn’t in motion. That didn’t happen often. The compulsive urge to touch him, to see if the scars were rigid or flexible, shocked me.

My fingers twitched hard enough to rattle the handcuffs. I closed my eyes. My hands fisted involuntarily. If this damned demon thought he could get me in bed and put his incubus powers to work on me, he had another thing coming. If I had to shift to encourage him to keep his paws to himself, so be it. I looked over at him again and felt the same sensual draw. Damn it.

Guard up and mind racing, I whispered, “Cain?”

In the process of drawing a breath, he stilled.

“Did you feed?”

His jaw tightened and the sound of his teeth grinding in the near-silent room was worse than nails on a chalkboard. The bed heaved as he rolled onto his side to face away from me. “Goodnight, Dani.”

“Look, I just wanted to be sure.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you, so get comfortable, close your eyes and count something. I don’t care if it’s jellybeans or rain drops. Just be quiet.” With his back to me, his voice was gently muted.

His hair splayed out over his pillow. I could just make out the soft waves. Broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist. A deeper scar with silvery tissue swept in an exaggerated line that disappeared under the sheet’s edge and created a divot in the skin. My visual involvement was so intense that I had laid the back of my hand against that scar before I realized I’d reached for it.

Cain’s hand whipped back and grabbed my free hand at the wrist, squeezing at the same time he lifted it from his skin. He held my hand aloft and I was too scared to pull against it.

What had I just done?

“What are you after?” Holding my hand above him, he rolled over. Propping himself up on his elbow, he flung my hand back toward me.

I pulled it in tight, cradling it to my chest. “I’m not after anything except answers.”

“And you think this is the best way to get answers from me?” He leaned toward me and I instinctively pulled back. “You cringe when I lean in to you. What makes you think you could handle anything else, particularly feeding me?” Blinking slowly, he shook his head and grinned in a self-deprecating manner.

“What do you mean feeding you?” Oh shit. Did he think I was coming on to him? My panicked, short laugh startled both of us.

“Figure out a better way to get what you want, angel.”

“I didn’t mean to touch you.”

He tsked. “I’ve heard that excuse and a thousand others like it too many times to count. I expected better of you.”

“Cain, I mean it. I’m sorry.” I bit my bottom lip and my eyes involuntarily swept down the length of his bedding-covered lower body. “It wasn’t that.”

My apology was met with silence and I dared to look up, meet his gaze. What I found stole my breath and broke my heart.

Confusion. The demon’s face was thoroughly decorated in confusion. Cain didn’t know how to handle a genuine touch, something that was nonsexual and innocent in intent. Lost in a sea of emotion, he dared to reach a hand toward me. The halting, unsure movement encouraged me to hold still.

His tremulous touch made my breath catch. The warmth of his fingertips encouraged me to lean into his hand. Tentative movements turned bolder but no faster as he traced the planes of my face. The pad of his roughened fingertip was most noticeable against my eyelids but I didn’t complain. He traced the curve of my lashes against the skin under my eyes. The flared rim of nostril, up and across my brow to my hairline, then down my temple to my jaw and around to my ear. He grabbed masses of my hair and pulled it around to tumble across my breasts.

My nipples puckered at the sensual feel and I blushed. Cain drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. The bed shifted as he moved toward me and I willed myself still. His free hand cupped my cheek and he leaned in close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his chest. Chapped lips brushed against my forehead, the gesture punctuated when he rested his forehead to mine. “You slay me in ways I don’t understand.”

Unsure what to say, I chose to just revel in the shared moment.

Cain pulled away and rolled over. He resituated himself and, this time, pulled the covers up to his shoulders. “Goodnight.”

MY INTERNAL CALENDAR SUGGESTED I’d been lying in bed for at least three days while the clock said it had only been a little over two hours. His confused yet tender touches had leveled me.

Cain rolled onto his back and kicked the covers down so they bunched around his thighs. One arm rested along his side while the other was thrown above his head, hand loosely holding the bottom of the headboard. Long lashes rested against skin. Subdued snores whuffled from full lips and, when the sound stuttered, Cain licked his lips before picking up the lazy rhythm once again.

Something low in my belly tightened and I forced my gaze away from his face to look at the sliver of night sky visible through the curtain seam. The cloud cover had broken up and I could make out a few stars and the very edge of the moon. I missed the freedom of the Fair. It had never crossed my mind that my life there had constituted freedom. At the time, it had seemed like backbreaking work, horrid hours, shitty pay and loneliness. But this, this new yet undeniably temporary life, was a true prison, no matter how well adorned its walls were.

The covers flew back as Cain erupted from the bed with an unearthly howl.

I yelped and lurched back, falling out of bed and twisting my shoulder painfully. Scrambling to my knees, I reached to turn on the light, totally ignoring the burn in my back.

Clutching his belly, blood flowed freely around the demon’s hand. It quickly saturated the waistband of his boxers and soaked the cotton. He panted, eyes wild, as he searched the room and looked everywhere but at me.

I opened my unshackled hand to him to show I had no weapon. “Cain?” Voice reedy, it was laced with fear and disbelief.

He shook his head hard and lifted a violently shaking hand to his lips. “Shh,” he whispered on an unsteady exhale. “Oh, shit.” Eyes widened then closed, nostrils flared and his jaw clenched hard enough to crack teeth. The muscles in his neck were corded. His entire body vibrated with tension yet he didn’t move—just stood there seemingly waiting.

Trickles of blood on his arms and thighs began slowly, gradually gaining momentum. I had to close my eyes and re-open them before I believed what I saw. The barbed wire tattoos had manifested and were tightening, digging in to cut both flesh and muscle.

As if he’d been kicked from behind, Cain’s knees folded and he went to the floor. An invisible hand wrapped itself in his hair and yanked his head up and back, forcing him to widen his knees, arch his back and slap a palm to the floor in order to keep his balance. His other tremulous hand and forearm pressed against his bleeding gut. Horror made me fight not to retch when I realized he’d been sliced hip to hip and his arm held his bowels in place. Harsh yanks raised him higher, his head strained backward by some unseen force, and he shook violently as the word ‘TRAITOR’ was carved by some unseen blade deep enough into his chest that I could see muscle.

Cain’s moan ripped at me and I wanted to do something. I yanked on the handcuff and the rattle of metal on iron seemed suspiciously loud. Settling to pull again, Cain hissed then whimpered and I couldn’t help but look back. His eyes were trained on a point just over my shoulder. Goosebumps rose hard and fast and a full-body shudder shook me. His stomach jerked and he stuttered, “Gu-gu-gu…”

“Cain.” His name fell like a plea from my lips.

“Go,” he rasped. “Get out.” Another moan ripped from his throat but this time I couldn’t see the catalyst.

Shock at his request startled me. “I can’t.”

“Get out!” he roared, turning to look at me finally. Tears dampened the lashes of eyes that burned orange and he turned my plea back on me. “Please.” His back cracked then arched impossibly at the same time the bands of barbed wire sank deep enough they could no longer be seen. He screamed again, the sound suffused with both terror and pain, then he disappeared. All that was left was the bilious smell of strong sulfur and the knowledge that Cain was suffering horrors mankind couldn’t begin to fathom.

REELING WITH HIS VIOLENT disappearance, I struggled and pulled on the damn handcuff. Mind-numbing rage filled me and I hissed, “Chayah.” My shoulders began to itch, the skin rolling and stretching as my wings took on first an abstract shape then a recognizable form. They seemed to gather even the artificial light, suffusing the familiar honey-in-sunshine color with warmth. I flexed and my wings snapped out, knocking me to the floor in a jumble of bare skin, freshly tangled hair and feathers. One wing was twisted wrong and felt like it would turn my upper body all the way around as it tried to right itself. The pain of the earlier wounds was forgotten in my desperation to get free.

“Son of a bitch,” I ground out, climbing back to my feet. I stretched slowly, trying to get a feel for how these bad boys worked. Something told me I wouldn’t be able to just pop down to my local bookstore and pick up a Dummies book on How to Be the Best Mutt Angel in Your Neighborhood. The sun crested over the horizon, the beam of light not obscured by the blackout curtains bisecting both the bed and my bare torso. Blinking in the brilliant light, I yanked on the handcuff and it snapped in two.

I turned slowly and took in the blood-soaked carpet where Cain had so recently knelt. “Go” he’d said. More specifically, “Get out.” On one level, it felt wrong to leave. What if he came back and needed help? On the other, though, was the recent conversation wherein he’d chastised me for not doing as he directed. Teeth worrying my bottom lip, I made my decision. For once, I’d do what he told me without question. Folding my wings away, I kicked off the boxer shorts. I ran into the dining room and pulled out more new clothes, indifferent to everything but practicality. Sneakers for running, jeans for durability, a t-shirt followed by sweater for layering, my leather jacket and a pair of matching gloves—they all made the cut.

I raced to the entry, grabbed the car key off the sideboard and turned for the door when a small square of leather caught my eye. Cain’s wallet.

Could I take a credit card, or two, from him? And what about cash? I pocketed the key and picked up the bi-fold wallet. Flipping it open, I was stunned to see a driver’s license issued by the state of Montana, three credit cards and, looking down the wallet’s top seam, a—whoa—serious cash haul. I thumbed through the large bills. How much should I take? I hated feeling like a thief, but I needed the money. Half. I’d take half.

Pulling the cash out left the wallet both significantly thinner and lighter and gave me a haul of, I’d guess, about three thousand dollars. I hesitated then took most of what was left since I didn’t know what lay ahead. This was more money than I’d ever held in my hand at one time and the sense of empowered freedom was heady stuff. Looking back to the credit cards, I took the platinum card and shoved it and the money in the zippered pocket on my jacket. My chin snapped up and my breath caught. I ran back to the bedroom where I gave the bloodied floor a wide berth, sliding along the wall to the nightstand. Grabbing Cain’s gun, I headed back to the foyer and out the door.

The elevator stopped at the seventeenth floor to pick up passengers when I realized that the front desk and concierge would be alerted to my descent. Damn it. All right, I wasn’t spending five hundred bucks to buy anyone off. Probably. Maybe. Shit, I hoped not. Regardless, I was already committed, they were already alerted and they couldn’t stop me from leaving. Besides, who would they alert? Cain was gone. I swallowed hard and tilted my chin back to fight the spill of tears that threatened unexpectedly.

The elevator stopped at the lobby and I hesitated, twirling the key around my pointer finger. Before I could get out, two families who were clearly traveling together hopped in. They were clamoring about a ski trip and their energy was high, their enthusiasm so strong it seemed scripted. Real families didn’t act like this, did they? Shaking my head, I started to move when I found myself pressed back by the kids closest to me. I couldn’t maneuver around them before the doors closed and the elevator started down again. Down?

A few seconds later, the made-for-TV families tumbled out of the elevator and into the parking garage en masse. I felt like an idiot. Of course the elevator would come down here. Shaking my head at my own stupidity, I stepped out and looked around. Naturally it was the wrong floor, but that was fine. I couldn’t remember where Cain had parked the car. There was also the possibility he’d moved it last night after, well, after he got done doing whatever he was doing that I didn’t want to think about.

Cain. Malkuth help me, I had no idea what to do, either for him or about him. As the Holy was my witness, I swear I didn’t want him to suffer at the level he was suffering. But at the same time, I had to get away from here. If those same demons came after me, I was dead. I couldn’t survive what was happening to him. The knowledge was absolute. It left me feeling like a coward, but he’d said it himself last week—you do what you have to do to get what you want. And I wanted to survive more than anything. Still, it didn’t set well. How could I leave him when I’d seen firsthand what was happening?

He’s already gone, my conscience said. You’re leaving a building that no longer houses your abductor.

Abductor. I hadn’t acknowledged it in such basic terms. But…no. It might have started out that way, but things had changed. Maybe not everything, but some of the fundamental things that stood between us had shifted. How could I be so sure? The fact that he’d touched me so tenderly and shared a moment of personal versus sexual intimacy with me. The fact that he’d rattled emotions and emotional responses I’d long ago locked away as impossibilities. And, if I was being honest, the fact that he’d gone without giving me up to his own abductor. He might yet, and he might decide to execute the contract, but there had been moments of doubt. I’d cling to those.

I bumped the alarm button on the key fob and I heard it go off several aisles over. Abandoning my disturbing train of thought, I raced for the car as fast as I could go without raising the suspicions of anyone who might see me.

It was time to put some miles between me and an empty hotel room.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I’D NEVER DRIVEN SUCH a powerful car. The gas pedal was scary responsive, resulting in a couple of near-miss scrapes and one close call with a Fiat before I got to the parking attendant’s gate station. I had to give the guy a one hundred dollar bill for an eight dollar parking fee and he was a little irritated. To spite me, he made change in dollar bills, the prick.

Easing out onto a side street, I was surprised to see dense clouds rolling in. The temperature had dropped significantly according to the car’s digital readout, confirmed when the first flurries of snow began to fall. I wasn’t sure which way to go, so I turned onto the first busy street I came to and followed signs to Old Highway 97 North.

It didn’t take long to find the two-lane road. I was dumbfounded at the way the cityscape simply ended. The stark finality made it look as if the universe’s grand architect had taken an eraser to the county line and said, “Life stops here.” Barren grassland opened up around me, extending as far as I could see. Snow fences paralleled the highway, running fifty yards off the shoulder, slats blurring as I set the cruise on “Escape.” The necessity of the fences became evident as snow began to fall harder and large flakes were sucked around the air disturbance the car created. Wind buffeted me and forced my mind to stay more than marginally invested in keeping it between the lines.

Unfortunately, foul weather alone wasn’t enough to keep my mind off of the reality I left behind. And reality it was, no matter what I might try to convince myself of or how fast I drove. Images of Cain’s tortured form choked me and I swiped at the tears that left tributaries of grief on my cheeks. Yeah, he’d taken me, but he hadn’t completed the contract. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but clearly he wasn’t telling me everything.

Though it would haunt me, Cain’s disappearance didn’t change anything. Sheol’s Hunters were still out there and I had to keep moving, stay ahead of them, no matter what. I couldn’t just hand myself over to a fallen archangel because he was my father. Fallen angel. The mere thought of an angel being cast from Malkuth, of doing something so horrid he was forever separated from the Holy, was beyond comprehension. Whatever it was, I imagined it had to be worse than borrowing an apple from a forbidden tree. That got you kicked out of the county. Samil’s act, whatever it had been, was severe enough he’d effectively been deported from the country and his passport permanently revoked. I couldn’t trust that what he wanted with me was benevolent in nature, no matter that he was my father.

A semi-truck blew by me and the draft shoved me around. The car’s rear tires slipped as snow began to stick and form slick spots on the asphalt. I so didn’t need this. What I needed was…a list too long to form on the fingers of both hands. How had my life become such a nightmare? It rolled back to the children’s fairytale about the Key. I couldn’t accept that Sheol and Malkuth both seemed to think I was the Key. I was hardly Malkuth’s best bet for success, nor was I Sheol’s best hope for winning a divine war. I was just me—simple, uncomplicated, shit-shoveling me. The idea I could control the end of the world was ridiculous.

The road split and I stuck to the right, continuing to head north. Snow fell faster and I realized after about forty-five minutes that I hadn’t passed another car since turning off. There was nothing out here but five-wire fences, snow breaks and an occasional cell phone tower. Stories of the Donner Party raced through my mind as I considered the probability of getting stuck out here. The BMW was a wicked car, but it wasn’t made for four-wheel-drive conditions.

I pressed on, uttering small prayers and silent curses as the weather worsened. Twice I ran off the edge of the road, the wide tires getting sucked into the slush of the soft shoulder. It had taken muscle and finesse to get the car back on the road each time. Common sense said the third time wouldn’t be a charm as snow accumulated more rapidly now, daylight having given way to artificial dusk. The cloud cover had grown so thick, the storm so powerful, that the sun had been obliterated. The car’s dash lights came on. If this was still going on when night fell, I was screwed.

MY SPEED STEADILY DECREASED until I was creeping along at about twenty miles an hour, the steering wheel clutched at ten-and-two in my white-knuckled grip. What had I been thinking heading north? No one headed north this time of year. Even butterflies, whose brains were smaller than pin heads, headed south. The car went into a skid and fish-tailed as I drove down a hill into a shallow canyon. The bridge’s guardrails were welcome beacons that let me know I wouldn’t slide off and fall to my death. I shuddered. If I died right now, I had no idea what would happen to my soul. Without a doubt, I knew I didn’t want to find out. I preferred to live with the delusion that Malkuth won all the battles with Sheol, even if it was for a single, insignificant soul mislabeled the Key.

I was a little more than halfway up the gradual slope that would get me out of the canyon when something darted across the road in front of the car. I overreacted and overcorrected, sending the car into an unrecoverable spin. If Cain was driving, this wouldn’t have happened, I thought, gritting my teeth. The car wouldn’t have defied him. Trying to find some semblance of control as the car slid back down the hill, I looked toward the bridge to gauge my stopping point.

Something stood behind me in the middle of the road. Clearly male based on physical size and muscular definition, he appeared wholly unconcerned with the out-of-control car turning lazy circles as it slid toward him.

He smiled. An enormous, single black wing extended to its full width.

Oh, fuck. A Fallen. I knew next to nothing about angels since they were so absolutely rare, but a few things were common knowledge among the freaks. First and foremost, black wings were a mark of fallen angels and you stayed away from those bastards at all costs.

My bowels turned to water and I did the only thing I could think to do: I hauled the steering wheel around to point the front tires straight, waited until the nose aimed uphill and slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The RPM gauge redlined as the back tires spun wildly, seeking purchase in the heavy snow. I thought for a moment that I was going to have to pull the gun and fend for myself, but the tires miraculously found purchase and the car shot forward. It swerved, traction not a guarantee, and I literally leaned into the wheel. I was ready to pull a Fred Flinstone to get this thing to the top of the hill if I had to—whatever it took to get away from the dark angel who awaited me below.

I reached the top of the hill and the car lurched forward, the tail end whipping back and forth as I fought the duality of my panic to keep it together. Bile rose in the back of my throat. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” I whispered. Lifting my foot off the gas, the car slowed and I managed to get it pointed down a stretch of road that was blown clear of snow. Drifts were high enough on the eastern side that they blocked the horizon. On the western side, the snow fences had so far done their job, stopping drifts behind their walls. This storm was simply going to be too massive for them to keep the snow off the roads indefinitely.

The speedometer crept up and up while my eyes spent the majority of time watching the rearview mirror. He couldn’t fly could he? The thought tickled the back of my throat and slightly manic laughter tinkled through the car. I imagined him spinning in a rapid circle as he flapped that one wing like mad. Fallen. I shuddered and gripped the wheel impossibly harder.

Fallen were angels cast from Malkuth to suffer penance and re-earn admittance to Malkuth when the Holy determined they’d suffered long enough. Sheol got involved more often than not and tempted the Fallen. When they gave in, lived a life of gluttony and excess and irredeemable sin, they turned and Sheol welcomed them with open arms. Their wings were returned to them, but the angels were fundamentally changed. Sheol now had their own army of Fallen, demarked by their pitch black wings that drank in light and made it possible for them to move among shadows.

I thought about what I could recall about him. Hair color? Sort of blondish brown. Eyes? Too far away to tell. Height? Clearly enormous. Wing? Black. Ask better questions. Distinguishing marks? Does “scary as hell” count? Clearly I couldn’t remember much more. It had happened so fast that I wasn’t sure what else I could pull from my memory. Irritated, I pounded a fist on the steering wheel and hit a button. The stereo turned on at the same time the car dialed the last connected call.

“Hello?” The man’s voice was smooth and tentative, clearly not sure what to expect.

“Khavien?” I gasped.

“Dani?”

I gaped at the nav screen and almost overcorrected getting the car back on course. What the hell was there to say to this man that I hadn’t already said? “Look—”

“Look—”

We both laughed uncomfortably. “You first,” he said.

“Sure.” I cleared my throat and checked the rearview mirror one more time. “Calling was a mistake. I didn’t mean to do it, literally.”

“I’m glad you did.” K’s voice was low, remorseful even, but I knew better. I wouldn’t trust him again. Ever.

“I mean it, Khavien. I pushed the wrong button on the car and I didn’t mean to. I’m hanging up now.” I moved to push the button I thought I’d hit, but his voice stopped me.

“Cain, I need you to call me when you stop.”

Uh-oh. “He can’t answer you.” I swallowed hard, unsure how to pull off the false bravado necessary for this little one-woman skit.

“And exactly why is that, Dani?”

I could imagine K at his desk, feet on the corner, tilted back in his executive’s chair with his hands laced over his stomach. The familiarity bred in me a sense of hatred and I snarled. “Best guess? Because he’s currently in Sheol.”

The sound of the chair crashing to the floor as K sat up ricocheted around the car. “What did you just say?”

Oh shit. I’d just told Satan’s own Deep Throat that I was alone. “Forget it. Literally.”

He picked up the handset. “I’m not going to sell you out, Dani. Never again.”

Tears blurred my vision and burned the back of my throat. “Damn straight,” I rasped. “Because I won’t ever give you the chance.” I pressed the steering wheel key and the call disconnected. I gasped once, short and hard, and turned the volume up on Three Green Monkeys. In another lifetime, when my life had been my own, Cain had told me they were really good. He’d been right.

THE LAST OF THE afternoon light faded and I began to really worry. I’d been on this side road for hours and not seen anyone. The needle for the gas tank hovered at a quarter of a tank and the storm showed no signs of letting up any time soon. I had been reduced to creeping along at twenty-five miles an hour for the last two dozen mile markers and was currently using sign posts and guard rails to tell where the edges of the road were beneath the snow. My nerves were fried, I was hungry and if I didn’t find a bathroom soon, I’d be reduced to pissing icicles on the side of the road.

A lone figure appeared out of the blowing snow. Walking down the side of the road in the same direction I was going, he wore what appeared to be a thin jacket and carried a duffel bag. A sock cap was pulled low over his ears and he moved gracefully, hardly reacting to the gale-force winds. Buzzing with nervous energy, my entire central nervous system nearly short-circuited when the figure held out an ungloved hand and flipped his thumb up before I got to him. How had he heard the car above the storm? I wondered. And what the hell was he doing hitch-hiking in an epic blizzard?

Something was off and, while I didn’t want to leave him to freeze to death if he was truly in distress, I also wasn’t going to take any chances. I slowed the car and coasted past him, watching to see what he’d do. He dropped his duffel, shed his coat and a giant black wing exploded from his back at the same time he sprinted for the car. Shouting in alarm, I stepped on the gas and rocketed forward at the same time his hands slapped the BMW’s rear quarter panel. The spray of snow and gravel showered the Fallen with the equivalent of a winter shit storm as I fled him a second time.

Driving faster than I should have was nonnegotiable. I ignored the chattering teeth and violent twitches the adrenaline wrought in my limbs, focusing instead on finding another road. How had he passed me, managed to get in front of me, without me knowing? He couldn’t fly, surely. A litany of questions, none of which had plausible answers, dogged every tick of the odometer. My nerves continued to jangle with the incessant persistence of a Salvation Army bell around the holidays. I had to get off this bicycle path and find my way back to civilization.

Road signs were snow-covered and the four-way stop crept up on me. If it hadn’t been for the blinking red light suspended over the intersection I never would have seen the crossroad. Merely slowing to hang a right, I pointed the car east and sped up. Any tracks I left would be covered in minutes.

“Take that, angel boy,” I whispered, my voice rough from disuse.

My hope was that the highway I’d left hours ago had continued to run parallel to the county road I’d just abandoned. If I could get to a more well-traveled road… Hell, who was I kidding? I’d settle for a traveled road. If I could get to a traveled road, I could make better time.

When I’d left that hotel room at a run earlier, my goal had been to put several hundred miles and Canada’s border between it and me by nightfall. Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen. So first sign of life I came to, I intended to pull over, find a hotel room and park my ass there until I could form a better game plan. Running blindly wasn’t going to get me anywhere.

If I could make these things happen, I’d be in good shape. It had to work.

“Problem is, you’re banking on a list of ‘ifs’ to survive,” I muttered.

My conscience silently concurred.

I THOUGHT I MIGHT weep when I saw the lights ahead on the right. The cluster of buildings and a variety of trucks and SUVs promised a place to at least stop. Keeping the car at a steady pace was almost the death of me. All I wanted to do was rush forward and find proof I’d survived my first day alone. Easing the car off the road, I was stunned at my good fortune. There was a small mom-and-pop hotel, a bar and a tiny convenience store with a single gas pump out front. A free-standing gas sign was lying almost horizontal to the ground, the wind having pushed it back on its heavy springs and held it there. I didn’t even care how much more it cost out here in the armpit of the earth. It didn’t matter. I’d pay the premium because I wanted to fill the tank up and experience the security of the needle being pegged on the full marker.

The hotel’s vacancy sign flashed bright, neon red. Rates were obscured by the wet snow stuck to the sign face but, again, it didn’t matter. I had to sleep and, for once, I could afford to pay the inflated rates they probably saw fit to charge. A giant, hidden pothole almost swallowed the right front tire and I winced at the scraping and cracking sound that equaled damage. I sighed. Now I could be charged with grand theft auto and destruction of personal property. Facing into the wind, I parked as close to the hotel’s front door as I could get before tucking the gun inside a pocket and pulling on my gloves. Fighting my way out of the car and sprinting for the front door proved harder than it should have been thanks to the wind and shin-deep snow. I slammed into the glass door and, dumbfounded, stood there when it wouldn’t open. There was no way I’d made it this far only to end up denied. Looking around, I saw the bar’s front door ease shut. I dashed that direction.

Giant bull’s horn handles were icy, even through my gloves. I slipped through the heavy, barn wood door and into the wood-smoked warmth of Cigarillos. The long bar that ran along one wall of the narrow building was a deep, rich mahogany. Two men sat nursing their drinks, caught up in casual conversation. Neither acknowledged my appearance as I blew in despite the slamming door that ruffled their hair and blew a napkin to the floor.

Behind the bar, a full-length mirror reflected bountiful alcoholic offerings stacked high and proudly displayed. Gleaming counters offered bowls of peanuts every few feet, but not a single hull sullied the wood’s shine. A brass foot rail ran eight inches off the ground, wrapping around the near end to attach to the wall. A dented, lusterless spittoon sat on hand-scraped floors near a swinging door. I hoped that door led to the kitchen, and I prayed it—the spittoon, not the kitchen—wasn’t in use.

A jukebox played at a respectable level, and a man crooned about leaving a light on at home for a long departed love. It wouldn’t have been surprising, though, for the obnoxious sound of a needle scratching across an old vinyl record to spill over and round out the backdrop. Discounting the two men at the bar, everyone had turned to look at me when I came through the doors. Granted, “everyone” constituted about eight other men, but still—they were staring. At me. I ducked my chin and pulled my gloves off as I made my way to the counter.

“Help you, miss?” The short, wiry bartender moved away from a small, flat-screen television to take my order.

“I hope so. I need to book a room at the hotel for a day, maybe two. I also need to fill up my car and get dinner.” I met his gaze and smiled.

“Sure.” He held out his hand and said, “Name’s Mike.”

Shit, shit, shit. “Uh…” I stalled, scrubbing my hands on my denim-clad thighs. “I’m sorry. I can’t shake hands.”

He lowered his hand slowly and his eyes cooled. “You into one of them religions as don’t allow touchin’?”

“Something like that.” I looked over my shoulder toward the back of the bar. “Is the restroom back there?”

“Yeah.” He dug a battered notepad out of his back pocket and pulled a pen out of the metal spirals. “You wanna order dinner first? It’ll take me a few to put it together.”

“That’d be great. How about a burger and either fries or chips? Whatever you’ve got is fine.” I’d mentioned the word “bathroom” and now I remembered how bad I had to go.

“Beef or bison?” he asked.

“Beef?”

“Whatever. You want any pink in the middle?” His eyes moved over me, taking me in as a curiosity first and a woman second. It seemed that not shaking hands had been more than a minor social faux pas. Oh well. It couldn’t be helped.

“No pink, but not burned. No onion, no mayo. The rest is fine however it turns out.” I inched backward and he waved me on, so I spun and power-walked to the tiny, single-toilet room. It was near spotless and the garbage can was empty which told me there weren’t many women who passed through here. That could either work for or against me. I’d wait and see.

Only one of the two men still sat at the bar when I walked out a few minutes later. He nursed a new beer with a thick head of foam and half-heartedly watched the football game, the television’s volume set lower than the jukebox’s. I slipped by the two pool tables and down the aisle to reclaim my barstool only two seats away from the fellow counter patron. A bowl of peanuts slid my way as I settled onto the cracked and duct-taped Naugahyde seat. I snapped my head around to glance at my neighbor. He looked my way and smiled. My breath caught in my chest and I stared, forgetting to smile in return.

He was remarkable despite simple faded denim work clothes and the unlit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. The breadth of his well-muscled shoulders combined with the length of his back to give the impression of significant height and controlled strength. His hair was shoulder length, a well-groomed and multi-dimensional dark blond pelt suitable for shampoo commercials. Wide, calloused hands alternated playing with the unlit cigarette and twisting the full pint glass. His eyes were a deep, cobalt blue. Truly bottomless, they were otherworldly in every sense, but I couldn’t tell what he was. Whatever his background and breeding, he registered as “off” to me and I wondered if the other bar patrons knew he was a freak. It didn’t matter. His genealogy wasn’t mine to dig into or advertise. Some of us just wanted to be left alone, and if that’s what he wanted? More power to him.

Caught staring, I turned away abruptly and shifted my focus to the first thing I saw: a bottle of catsup. Not convenient for studying intently, but there you have it. Grabbing a handful of peanuts and a napkin, I began shelling the nuts and keeping the hulls on the paper. Turning it into a game—seeing how many I could eat before making a mess—helped me feel like I could disappear at least a little bit.

He reached out and tentatively touched the back of my wrist without any warning or invitation. I jerked and stood, snatching my hand back so fast my napkin and hulls scattered all over the bar, down my front and across the floor. My eyes snapped up as my back pitched briefly then stilled. The guy from two seats down was staring at me, eyelids low over eyes both curious and guarded.

“Can I help you?” I asked, fighting the blush that stole up my cheeks. His unadulterated interest in my actions made me uncomfortable. The bartender walked out with my basket and I asked for a broom and dustpan. He looked at me like I’d grown a third eye.

“I’ll get it, ma’am.” He slid the woven, red plastic basket across the deep counter and came around to clean up my mess.

“Hey, look. I’m sorry. I just wanted to introduce myself.” The man sitting next to me stood and was every bit as large as I’d guessed. Forearms heavy with muscle reached behind me to stop my jacket from slipping to the floor, weighing it as he handed it over to me.

Shit. The gun. I took it from him with a little more force than was necessary but managed a smile. “Thanks.” Pre-occupied with settling it across my lap to best hide the bulging pockets, I didn’t anticipate the hand he stuck in my face.

“My name’s…Armen.” He’d paused, clearly wondering if he ought to give his real name.

I sighed. Wonderful. I had just evolved from a mutt angel on the run to a cheap, fake-name potential fuck buddy at a snowed-in, hole-in-the wall bar in a three-building town on the corner of Old Highway 87 and Crazy Woman Canyon Road. Life had definitely taken a turn for the better since I ran.

“She don’t shake hands,” Bartender Mike informed Armen. “Some religious shit or somethin’.”

“Is that true?” Armen asked, slowly withdrawing his hand.

“It is.” I slid back into my chair, murmuring quiet thanks to the bartender for cleaning up after me before tucking in to my burger. It was good, clearly not frozen or premade, and the fries were crispy and fresh. I didn’t get good, old-fashioned hamburgers very often.

“So what religion are you?” Armen asked, scooting down a seat and drawing his beer along with him.

I chewed slowly and shook my head. How did I end up in the middle of effing nowhere having conversations about a religion that didn’t exist, being asked subsequent questions I couldn’t answer? It only seemed to happen to me. It seemed reasonable to employ my standby method of redirecting attention back on my interrogator. “What happened to your friend?”

Surprise flitted across his face before he settled back into indifferent curiosity. His reaction set me on edge. “He had an errand to run.”

In the middle of an epic blizzard he had an errand. My back twitched and I slowly pushed the hamburger away.

“Not hungry?” Armen asked, watching me carefully.

“Not so much.” I stood and, when he followed suit, I shrugged into my jacket. Sticking my hands inside the pockets, I palmed the gun. “Hey, Mike? Are you in charge of the hotel?”

The bartender moved down the length of the bar in slow motion. “I am.” He glanced between the stranger and me, registering the escalating tension between us. “You need a room?”

“Yeah.” I’d take it and go turn on all the lights and TV, then I’d leave. Let Armen think I’d settled in for the night. Because I knew without a doubt he’d be checking in on me. My missing car would be a giveaway, but if the distraction bought me a few minutes, I’d take it. My back rolled again and I fought the urge to call my wings.

Mike dug under the counter and came up with a key. “Room 4. That’ll be at the end here near the bar.”

“Thanks.” I slowly removed my left hand and reached inside my jacket to fumble a hundred dollar bill loose. Armen and I stared at each other as I slid the money across the counter. “Will that cover everything?”

“It’ll get you two nights and dinner with change.” Mike moved to the old cash register, the bell sounding as he opened the drawer.

“Keep it.” I took the key and stepped back. “I’ll be back tomorrow for lunch.”

“Good ‘nuff.” Mike slid a hand under the lip of the bar and let it rest there. I didn’t doubt he recognized us as freaks, and I wondered what type of weapon he was touching.

“G’night.” My feet felt leaden as I backed away slowly.

“Sleep well, Dani.” Armen smiled.

I was through the door, the wind whipping my hair around me like mad, when I realized I’d never given Armen my name.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE REALITY THAT I was in seriously deep shit crashed through me with an audible, soul-sickening crack. I slogged through snow deep enough to filter unprotected into my sneakers, leaving my feet and jeans wet. It didn’t matter.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it,” I ranted, walking faster across the parking lot to the car. There wasn’t going to be a good night’s sleep in my immediate future, no matter how bad I needed it.

A door slammed behind me and I reflexively looked back. A figure leaned against the building, a glowing cigarette the most distinctive characteristic I could see through the blowing snow. Armen.

Pushing off the building, he started toward me at a leisurely pace. “You don’t want to run from me, malekosh.” His voice cut through the howling wind.

My mouth worked, opening and closing, but no sound would come out. I spun and sprinted for the car, the dense, wet snow pulling at my every step. I fumbled through my jeans pocket for the car key. Gun. Switching hands, I pulled the handgun and turned it on Armen.

He was closer. I could make out the lines of his face. He’d tucked his hair under a knit cap and it lent him an air of menace. Taking a long drag off the cigarette, he flicked it away in a practiced move.

“Don’t do it, Armen.” I leveled the gun at his chest.

“Do what, exactly? I haven’t threatened you, have I?” He grinned and blinked slowly, his eyes shifting to a burning amber color.

Oh…fuck.

A single black wing exploded out his back. Visions of the canyon road ripped through my mind and he saw when I put it together that the Fallen there and the angel in front of me were one and the same. He dropped his hands to his side, shaking them out. “You shouldn’t have run.”

I swear to the Holy, if I’d ever been a fainter, I would have hit the ground. Instead, I shot the son of a bitch.

The bullet ripped into his shoulder and spun him around, driving him to his knees. Logically, I should have shot him again, but I was so dumbfounded I’d actually pulled the trigger that I just stood there watching him bleed.

“Shit,” he ground out, clutching his shoulder. “I fucking hate getting shot.” Pushing to standing, Armen turned back to me, eyes blazing wildly as his wing vibrated with rage or pain. Maybe both.

I raised the gun again, hand shaking, and stuttered, “I-I-I d-did it once, I-I-I’ll d-d-do it ag-gain.”

Armen began to grow. No shit. He went from tall to topping out at over eight feet in the blink of an eye. The bleeding slowed and his hand fell away. “No, you won’t.” He launched himself at me and I dove to the side.

A large hand caught my calf and hauled me backward. I kicked as hard as I could and the grip weakened enough for me to break free. I’d lost the gun in the fall so both my hands were free to dig into the ground as I scrambled away. He grabbed my ankle and yanked me toward him. Without any more warning, my own wings burst from my back and rocked me to the side. They beat like crazy, slapping the Fallen. Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to get up with them hammering at Armen so mercilessly.

He was bloodied, a slice across his cheek bleeding freely, his shoulder still seeping from the bullet wound, and he was enraged. “You want to play that way? Fine.” He dug his fingers into my wings, grabbed a handful of feathers and ripped them out.

I screamed.

Taking advantage of my distress, he flipped me over and pinned me face-first in the snow. I couldn’t have been more effectively crushed if someone had parked a dump truck on my back. His knees pinned my bleeding wings down. One hand held my head pressed to the ground and the other wound itself through my hair.

“It didn’t have to happen this way, Dani.”

I opened my mouth to scream when he freed a hand and drew back to deliver a crushing blow.

TKO.

“HE’S GOING TO BE pissed.”

I didn’t recognize the voice that pulled me up slowly through the depths of unconsciousness. Laid out across a deep backseat, a heavy blanket covered my torso and part of my face. I’d been blindfolded. My head felt as if it had been cleaved in two pieces, skull to cervical spine. The need to cradle myself warred with the instinct to stay very still and learn as much as possible about what was happening. Instinct won out when a different voice answered the first.

“He’ll just have to be pissed then, won’t he. She didn’t leave me much choice.”

An answering snort. “Didn’t think she’d pull her wings.”

“Fuck, I didn’t think she’d shoot me.”

Armen. Every muscle in my body tensed when I realized it was the Fallen’s voice that belonged to mystery man number two. My body seemed to come online and I realized my hands and feet were numb. Moving my fingers by millimeters proved impossible. I’d been bound tight from wrists to fingertips. Similar bad news for my feet. The pounding in my head was making me sick and the very real fear that I might throw up settled over me, forcing me to swallow convulsively. I tried to open my eyes but the blindfold was too tight. Fortunately, I guess, they’d left my mouth free. At least I wouldn’t drown in my own vomit if it came to that. And how miserable had my life become that that was a bonus? Permitting myself a small sigh, I tried to listen around the war drums beating inside my skull.

“…think he’s going to do?”

“Do?” Armen paused. “Nothing. I was supposed to cover the contract and delivery.”

“No, I meant what do you think he’ll do when he gets his hands on her?”

Armen chuckled. “He’s a ruthless son of a bitch so there’s no telling.”

Yeah, that did it. I projectile vomited all over the place. The car swerved violently, lurching to a stop.

“Damn it!” Armen bellowed. “This is a hundred thousand dollar car!”

“Not anymore,” his companion said, struggling not to laugh.

“Shut up, Noah.” A rush of cool air was followed by the sound of a door slamming. I felt the door at my head open and Armen’s presence standing near. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “How the hell am I supposed to clean this up out here?”

“I guess you’ll have to wait until we get…where we’re going. Get it professionally cleaned.” Noah’s voice was turned toward me for the first time, and it was strangely soothing.

“I’m not riding around with this smell.”

“Pussy,” I muttered, my voice low and gravelly.

Noah hooted a laugh. “She called you a—”

“I heard her,” Armen snapped. “Awfully brazen for a neophyte who can’t even use her wings, Dani.”

I clamped my lips together, determined to keep my opinions to myself.

A sound behind me, then a muffled slam. A trunk.

“Noah, pull her that way some while I try to wipe out the majority of this.”

The door at my feet opened and Noah pulled me gently across the seat and helped me sit up, leaving a hand on my shoulder. Changing positions made my head hurt so bad I gasped and leaned to the side to rest against the backseat.

“Headache?” Noah asked, sympathy infused in the one-word question.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Bad.”

“I’ve got something that might help.” He dropped his hand from my shoulder as if to move away.

“No.” The word was harsher than I’d intended. “No, thanks.”

“Why suffer?” he asked, truly curious.

“I don’t want anything you or Armen give me.”

Noah stilled. “You gave her your name?” The incredulous tone of his voice indicated that Armen’s name was significant.

The Fallen behind me sighed. “I did. It made the most sense, given the contract.”

The contract. He’d mentioned it before. Thoughts of my conversations with Cain raced through my mind and I blurted out, “Is this about the Key?”

Total silence met my question. In fact, it seemed as if both Armen and Noah ceased to speak, move or even breathe.

“Get her back in the car, Noah,” Armen said softly. “We’ll crack the windows and live with the stench. It’s only a couple more hours anyway.”

My stomach clenched at his indifferent statement. “A couple more hours until what?” Strong hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back across the seat and laid me down. The door slammed shut near my head and Noah bent my legs, pushing me in just a bit further and shutting his own door. The car shimmied as both men slid into the front seats, shut their doors and buckled in. The motor came to life—a subdued, throaty purr—and we pulled onto the road.

Road noise was so muffled I could hear the men shifting in their seats and Armen occasionally cursing the smell and my disregard for Italian leather. I drifted in and out of consciousness, the combination of exhaustion and the monster headache encouraging me to sleep. It wasn’t restful but restorative. I’d have given anything for a cool, quiet room, some privacy and twenty-four hours of uninterrupted, abduction-free sleep.

It bugged me that my mind had basically shut down when I woke up in Armen’s car. I had to refocus, start planning how to get away. The task seemed impossible at the moment and I deflated at the realization that, short of spastic wings that were missing feathers, I had no weapons. I’d clearly pose more of a threat with a plastic spork than I would if I used my wings again. Fear wove itself intimately through my frustration, urging me to scream. Need made the breath hang up in my lungs. I wondered what would happen if I did. Would I blow the windows out of the car? Could I hurt Armen? Little good it would do me, trussed up as I was. I’d hold onto that little talent and wait for the right time to use it. Maybe I could trump the spork. I surprised myself by smiling.

The men’s voices rumbled back and forth intermittently, though much of what they said was coded enough it made little sense. It surprised me when they turned the conversation to me, directly.

“What do you know about the Key?” Armen’s voice carried with deceptive softness. I waited for Noah to answer until the Fallen said, “I know you’re awake, Dani. What do you know about the Key?”

Surprised, I bit my lip to stop a snarky answer from popping out. I’d think this through, play my cards close. “It’s a child’s story, a myth.”

“What else do you know?” This from Noah.

“Not much.”

“You know more,” Armen snapped rabidly. “What good does lying do any of us?”

“Right. Because her interest is in doing us some good.” Noah’s answer was just as hostile. “You scared the shit out of her and now you expect her to help us. You’ve lived alone too long, man.”

Armen slammed on the breaks, tossing me into the floorboard where I struggled like a netted trout. “Shut the fuck up, Noah!” he yelled. “You have no idea what this is costing me!”

Tension between the two men blossomed until I could almost smell it.

“You have no idea,” Armen whispered, and something thunked against a hard surface a couple of times.

“Look, Armen,” Noah began.

“Forget it.” Leather rubbed on leather and Armen spoke down to where I laid. “You want to stay down there or sit up?”

“Depends on whether or not you’re going to drive like an erratic old woman the rest of the way.”

Noah barked out a laugh and even Armen chuckled. “Up you go, then.” He got out of the car and effortlessly muscled me into a sitting position. “Better?” He buckled my seatbelt.

“Can you undo my hands?” Couldn’t hurt to ask.

“Not yet. I don’t need you seeing anything you aren’t meant to see.”

A wave of vertigo hit me that had nothing to do with my concussion. He knew about my hands. It shouldn’t have surprised me since he knew the whole Key thing, but it was such an intimate piece of knowledge to possess.

The door shut and he settled back into the driver’s seat, the car roaring back to life as he pulled onto the highway again.

I don’t know what possessed me to say it, to defend myself from his assertions. It might have had to do with the vulnerability that washed over me when I realized he knew about me. Regardless, the words were out before I weighed them. “I’m not the Key.” I braced myself for another of his breaking temper tantrums, but nothing happened. “Did you hear me?” I asked, raising my voice.

“Yeah.”

We rode on for a bit before Noah said, “She doesn’t know.”

“Oh, she knows. She just doesn’t believe it.”

“Maybe you should tell her.”

“He already did. She didn’t believe him either.”

“Him?” I asked. “Him who?”

“This sounds like a bad version of a slapstick comedy skit,” Armen muttered. “Look, Dani. You’re the Key. Both Sheol and Malkuth know it, and you’re the hottest commodity going on this miserable planet. Believe it.”

“How do you know?” I demanded. “Of all the people in the world, who the hell chose me?”

He rumbled something unintelligible and leather creaked as he shifted. “You’re the Key, sweetheart, and it’s about time you bought into the program, because even if you’re not? There’s an open-ended ESO out there with your name on it.”

I swallowed hard. “Is that why you took me? The ESO?”

“You don’t know shit about why I’m involved.”

“Which is why she asked,” Noah said, the gentleness and compassion in his words further confusing me. “I’m taking her blindfold off.”

“Don’t.” Armen’s barked order must have halted the other man because Noah didn’t touch me. “She doesn’t need to see anything.”

“It’s snow and mountains and trees, Armen.” Noah’s irritation was clear. “I’m taking her blindfold off. If you want to stop me, pull over and stop me.”

Again I braced for hard breaking. Instead, the car hummed on.

Noah moved around, unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing over the console into the backseat. He brushed against me and I cringed against the door, breathing hard through my nose.

“Hey. I’m not going to hurt you.” Gentle fingers touched my temple and I flinched at the contact, but he didn’t hesitate. He worked his fingers around to the back of the blindfold and undid the heavy knots. “Geez, Armen. What did you think she was going to do with the blindfold? Form a garrote with her bound and taped hands and snuff you as you drove?”

“She shot me, Noah.”

“Stop whining about that already. You’ve healed; she’s contained. All for the greater good, right?” An unidentifiable bitterness tainted his words.

The blindfold fell away before I could ask what he meant about the greater good. Despite the car’s tinted windows, sunlight glared brilliantly off the blanketed snow, forcing me to squint. I looked back and let myself take Noah in. He was long and well-muscled like so many of the freaks, his hair a beautiful dark brown that fell to his chin. Eyes of a very strange green were set in a generally handsome face.

My eyelids fluttered shut and I laid my head against the headrest. “How long was I out?”

“Long enough for us to package you up, dispose of the car and let the sun come up.”

“The car?” I choked out. “What did you do with the car?” Cain had loved that car. If he found me and I’d lost it? I didn’t even want to think about costing him a second car.

“It’s gone. Don’t worry about it.” Armen’s blue eyes caught mine in the rearview mirror. “Something special about that car?”

I blew out a breath. “No.” Tears stung my eyes inexplicably, one breaking free to roll down my cheek. No. Crying. My mind shut down at what it meant that the car was gone because it was also my only hope of making any distance if I was able to get away. “What about my gun?”

“You won’t need the gun, or the money, anymore.” Armen shifted his gaze back to the road, effectively ending the conversation.

Except I wasn’t done. Fury welled up inside me. “You listen to me, Captain Fucktard. I don’t give a shit who you are, where you’re from or what you did to Fall. I’m sick of your innuendos and veiled threats. Until I’ve done something to heinously offend you, you can kiss my lily white ass and start treating me a little less like the World’s Most Wanted!” My head slammed into the doorframe and Noah slammed into me when the car swerved to the side of a road, skidding off the shoulder and coming to an awkward stop for the third time.

“Hey!” Noah shouted, trying to regain his seat.

The backdoor whipped open and Armen hauled me out of the car by my upper arms. Slamming my hips into the rear quarter panel, he fisted his hand in my hair and bent me backward. Memory fused with reality and I searched darker blue eyes for orange flecks but came up empty. With my feet and hands bound, I was forced to rely on Armen to even stay upright. His weight pinned me to the car as he lowered his face to mine.

“Is that right?” he snarled. “You listen to me, you ignorant, half-bred, close-minded, self-centered piece of shit. The fact that the end of the world rests on a single decision by you terrifies me. Would I pick someone else to be the fucking Key if I could? Hell. Yes.” He punctuated the last two words with violent yanks on my hair before shoving me away. “Samil’s intent on collecting your soul before Malkuth does because once it’s done? It can’t be undone. You’ve got to be dead for that level of certainty. Until then? Malkuth could change your mind.”

I managed to twist and bend my knees so they hit first, leaving me kneeling. “And if the ESO’s in effect, why not just carry it out here? Just get it over with.”

Armen stood less than five feet from me, seething. His eyes had gone amber. Stepping close, he leaned down and picked me up by the arms again, this time lifting me until my feet dangled and I was eye to eye with him. “I’ve got my reasons, and my orders, to do what I’m doing, and I’ll do the job. Do I like it? Fuck no, but the contract’s signed. Don’t pretend to know what this is costing me. Ever.”

“What’s it going to cost you?” I whispered.

Pain, the kind that speaks of fractured souls and unspeakable hardships survived, riddled his features. “The only friend I’ve ever had.”

I met his hardened gaze. “I’m sorry.”

He sneered. “Sorry?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry this, whatever this is, is costing you so much.”

“How can you apologize for something you don’t believe in and can’t understand?”

“I’ve never had a true friend, let alone one who meant so much to me.” The honesty burned. “Do I believe I’m the Key? No. But you do. Convince me.”

“Not my job, sunshine.” Armen dropped me to the ground where I teetered before tipping over. The bone-jarring thud when I landed made my head throb so hard I worried I’d be sick again. A gentle hand pushed my hair out of my face. Noah.

“Let’s get you back in the car. We’ve only got about an hour before we’re there.”

“Where?”

“Redemption.” He glanced over at Armen who stood smoking near the front of the car. “I hope…well, I hope he finds it.”

I was confused. “I’m sorry to be dense, but is Redemption a place?”

Noah smiled full on, and his eyes glinted in the light. “Think of Redemption as a destination, Dani. It’s one I hope you all find.”

“All?”

He silently scooped me up off the ground and settled me back in the car. Armen took a final, deep draw on his cigarette before crushing it beneath his boot. Rolling his jaw, he blew smoke from his nostrils and started for the car. He caught me leaning around the driver’s seat to watch him. The Fallen paused, shook his head and made his way back to us.

He settled into his seat and adjusted the rearview mirror to better watch me. His eyes were cool but they were no longer indifferent. I knew what mattered to him, and he knew it. Now I just had to figure out who this friend was and try to influence him to help me survive, but first things first.

I had a date with Redemption.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE SUN DIPPED TOWARD the horizon and bathed the world beyond the windows a crystalline pink and orange. Road noise was further muted as the highway shifted back to snowpack. Armen drove with skill, circumventing drifts and sticking to the straight and narrow, allowing us to make decent time as we continued north. None of us spoke after the last roadside confrontation, each lost in our own thoughts. Armen turned the radio on and the sound of Ten Green Monkeys rocketed around the car.

Every hair on my body stood at attention and my scalp crawled as fear’s fingers wound through my hair in a rapid, electric pattern. What were the odds? I wondered. Too long. They were too long because there was no way he knew. My shoulders ached and I had lost even the pins-and-needles feeling in my feet. I hardly noticed. Numb lips mouthed the words to the song, “Fire Branded,” and I couldn’t stop the manic giggle that broke free.

Both men looked at me. Noah’s curiosity made sense. Armen’s flat, shuttered stare threw me. It seemed like he’d played the song as a taunt, a reminder. But to remind me, he’d have to know, which took me back to no way. I shook my head at the ridiculous track this thought train had jumped.

The car slid and my shoulders involuntarily tightened, my legs pushing me back against the seat. Armen alternately looked between the road and me as he finessed the gas pedal and steering wheel to bring the car back under control. A brief tightening of his eyes was the only indication that anything abnormal had occurred. If willpower alone could drive a car, his did.

The weighted silence smothered me, the heated air both manky and stifling. I laid my forehead against the chilled glass and closed my eyes. How long would we ride like this, with triangular silence hanging over all of us, was anyone’s guess.

Armen’s voice, devoid of emotion, barely rose above the muted road noise when it interrupted my internal conversation. “How much do you know about angels and demons?”

That electric awareness shot through me again. I lifted my head and, in slow motion, turned to meet his stare. “Not much.” My voice was hollow, threaded with tendrils of shock.

The same heavy silence fell back over us and we traveled on, unspeaking, until I thought I’d break and scream. I think I’d sucked in a breath when the small town appeared on the horizon. Set against a backdrop of steeply rolling hills backed by craggy mountains, the setting reminded me of an old West painting. The closer we got, the more I thought I was right. Wood-sided buildings were silvered with age, knots in the planks had fallen out and left behind voids like giant bullet holes and glass appeared wavy from settling over the years. Sidewalks were wooden-boarded reminders of an era passed. A local pub actually labeled itself a saloon, complete with swinging louvered half-doors which boasted horned pulls.

“If the theme song from Deliverance begins to play…” I muttered.

Noah chuckled but Armen didn’t crack a smile. “You may be closer than you think.”

A snowplow must have cleared the main road sometime that morning. Side roads were still heavy with the frozen precipitation. Snowmobiles sat where pickup trucks would undoubtedly park during the short summer months.

“Are we still in the US?”

Armen glanced at me, his lips tightening. “Redemption is the northern-most town in Montana. The Canadian border is there.” He pointed and I looked as if I might actually see something.

Noah unbuckled his seatbelt as the car slowed. “Do you want me to go into Spittoon’s and check out the atmosphere?” He looked at Armen and, for the first time, seemed to pointedly avoid looking at or even acknowledging me.

The Fallen rolled his shoulders before coasting to a stop in the middle of the street and rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Yeah. If it’s all right, we’ll come in and wait a while. If it’s not, test the waters for me. I’m not getting out of the car until I know, until…you know.”

Noah nodded and buddy-punched Armen in the shoulder. “It’ll be good. Whatever happens. If he’s here, we’ll sort it out.”

I quietly watched the two men during the conversation. For once I didn’t feel like needling Armen, unsure whether it was empathy for his stress or self-preservation since Noah wasn’t there to save my ass if I pushed too far. Noah might have been in on the abduction, but Armen was the one who bore the animosity. I trusted the other man on some strange, unidentifiable level. Stockholm Syndrome. It had to be Stockholm Syndrome. I snorted, quickly looking away when Armen checked on me.

We sat in a suspended state of motion, neither coming nor going as we waited on the mysterious all-clear from Noah. The saloon doors swung open and Armen physically tensed. My response to him was immediate. I wanted to flee, to get away from the unspoken threat his body language promised was near. When Noah cleared the door and waved us in, Armen’s shoulders sagged. He pulled the car over as close to a snow bank as he could and parked.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to cut your hands and feet free. When the blood comes back to them, so will the feeling. It’s going to hurt. You’ve got five minutes to get it together, and then I’m taking you into the bar with me. We’re going to have dinner.”

“We didn’t come all this way because they make a mean bowl of chili, Armen.” I sucked in my breath at the cold glare he shot me.

“No, we didn’t. I can make you this promise, though. If things go to hell, you’re going to know why we’re here right quick.” He pushed himself out of the car and opened the back door, the influx of frigid air stealing my breath. A small, wicked-looking Spyder knife glinted in the dying sunlight. “Be still or I’ll cut you.”

The tape around my feet was the first to go. As promised, the rush of blood to my feet hurt. “Son of a bitch,” I ground out between clenched teeth.

“Told you. You want to wait to stand and have me cut your hands free, or do you want to turn around and—”

I turned.

“Works for me.” He worked slowly and more than once the cold blade of the knife touched bare skin. Once or twice he cut me, nothing major but it was enough to burn even my numbed hands. “When your hands are free, you’re to keep them to yourself. Don’t try me on this, Dani.” He paused. “Got it?”

“Yeah.” I had no intention of touching him. In fact, having him so close to my unguarded hands was freaking me out a little. “Trust me, I’m not interested in having any intimate details about your life.”

He hesitated and I was surprised to hear the smile in his voice when he said, “Normally that would bug me, a pretty lady’s disinterest. But under the circumstances, it’s for the best.”

“Never bed your kills, huh?”

This time he stopped. “I told you before—don’t pretend to understand me or my motivations. Not until you have all the facts.”

Like an earlier conversation in a different lifetime, he hadn’t said he wasn’t going to kill me. “No problem,” I whispered. The final band of tape was cut free and if my feet had yelled in pain, my hands screamed bloody murder. They swelled, the fingers like angry little sausages. I cradled them close to my chest and bent to protect them from the wind. The blanket my back had been covered with slipped, and the tattered remains of my shirt flapped in the breeze.

Armen tucked the blanket up over my shoulders. “We’ll take care of this later. For now, the blanket’s all I’ve got.” Confused, I looked back at him. He only shook his head and motioned for me to get out of the car. “You don’t need your hands to walk. Let’s get this over with.”

My legs were stiff, the muscles noncompliant, as I slipped and slid my way to the boardwalk and up the steps to the Spittoon Saloon’s half-doors. Noah held them open for us and I was surprised to see a small entry. The saloon’s real doors were heavy things that were carved with intricate detail, scenes of wildlife moving almost life-like in the wood. There wasn’t time to appreciate it, though, as Armen shoved past me and into Redemption’s inner sanctum.

By the time Noah grabbed the door and ushered me through into the cramped, smoky interior, Armen was already at the bar having a hushed conversation with the barkeep. I took a second to look around. Walls were lined with all manner of dead animals, stuffed and preserved so the mighty hunters could talk about their kills and compare the size of their rifles, no doubt. Shaking my head at the ridiculous yet appropriate décor, I took an empty table nearest the jukebox. Some country singer was going on about a bad way of saying goodbye.

“Good luck finding a good way, buddy,” I whispered.

Several men lounged inside the saloon and each and every one of them took the opportunity, either covert or open, to look me over. I felt like the next victim to be mounted on the wall and couldn’t help but wonder if the residents were gun-clad year round. Worse, I wondered if one of these guys happened to be the one Armen didn’t want to mess with. As a Fallen, the thought that someone worried him absolutely terrified me.

A large man with a keg belly pushed away from a table where he and his friends played cards. He hitched up his pants and adjusted his belt that clung, by default or necessity, to his narrow hips. Food bits clung to his ratty beard while bushy eyebrows wandered willy-nilly above predatory eyes.

“Randy!” barked the barkeep. “Keep it civil.”

The large man—Randy—dismissed the bartender’s warning with a rude hand gesture and kept coming.

All eyes were on Randy and me as the large man lumbered across the room, floorboards flexing beneath his formidable mass. Armen didn’t turn around, but watched in the mirror over the long, mahogany bar. Noah, who had joined him, spun his barstool to face us, his face stony.

Keg Belly reached my seat and leaned over, calloused knuckles to the table. “Move.”

“No.” I almost slapped a hand over my mouth. What the hell? I never encouraged confrontation, but my sharp, one-word answer promised to do just that. The only logical explanation was that I was sick and freaking tired of being assaulted by a new man every few days.

“Bitch, I said move.” He leaned forward far enough to invade my personal space. His breath hung between us, a toxic miasma, and I couldn’t help but lean back when my eyes began to water.

“You’re in my chair, whore.” Randy of the Foul Breath shoved the table out of the way, propped his hands on the arms of my chair and leaned closer.

“So which am I, a bitch or a whore?” My voice was lethally calm and in my peripheral vision I saw Armen turn as Noah stood. “I’d like to know whether I’m giving it away or charging for it.”

Randy took a deep breath, held it, then blew it out through his mouth. “All I know’s you look like sin and smell like them two men.”

My nose curled. “Hm.” I hated to do it but I didn’t have a choice. Tightening my fists, I took a shallow breath and leaned forward to kiss Randy quickly on the fetid mouth. He jerked to standing just as I’d suspected he might, and I followed him up, using his momentum to shove him back with a foot to his belly. Like a massive redwood, Randy crashed to the floor, arms flailing. His girth prevented him from doing much beyond rolling back and forth like a Weeble Wobble with its ass cut off.

I side-stepped the fallen man and got near his head, still out of reach of his massive arms. My knees popped when I squatted down.

His face was red, spittle joining the leavings of the late-day meal that decorated his facial hair. Eyes bulging, he reached for me and my back began to itch. I scratched my shoulders and he paused, eyes narrowing and following my hands. A size sixteen booted foot made me jump when it came from behind me and toe-punted the felled behemoth in the soft spot between neck and shoulder. He let out a squeal like a stuck pig and began slapping a blunt-fingered hand at the wounded spot. The guy was so large he couldn’t reach his own shoulder.

I looked over my shoulder at Armen, who glared at the man on the floor. “Was that necessary?”

He shrugged and then grinned. “He knows better than to fuck around with visitors. Don’t you, Randy?”

“She yours?” the felled man spat. “You shoulda said somethin’.”

“In a manner of speaking, yeah, she’s mine.” Armen hauled me to my feet then turned away to return to the bar.

“That ain’t a yes.” A steel band clamped on my ankle and yanked, landing me on my ass and pulling me forward. I squeaked and kicked out, my heel connecting with Randy’s nose in a sickening crunch. Blood flowed copiously and choked the man while I scrambled away.

Two of his five table mates rose and Armen turned back to the developing brouhaha. “You’re proving to be more trouble than you’re worth.”

Hauling me to my feet again, his hands were on my arms when my back started roiling. “Oh shit,” I whispered, panicked. My back was on fire and I knew the change was coming. “Cthar, cthar, cthar,” I chanted low and fierce.

“Is it happening?” Armen asked, moving in close.

I nodded. He’d understand. “Oh shit,” I whimpered, scared to expose myself in this room of potential poachers.

Angel wings were worth their weight in gold, literally. Freaks’ campfire horror stories almost always involved stories of poachers, sometimes norms and sometimes not, who imprisoned the rarest of the freaks and kept them for black market trade. And while that was terrifying, the thought of my father waltzing through the door to collect my soul made my brain freeze. I’d be outed and he’d find me.

“Take a deep breath,” Armen ordered quietly.

I tried. The result was more like a lusty wheeze.

“This is going to feel weird, but do not call your wings. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Nodding frantically, I bit my lip and closed my eyes.

He ran a single hand up under the blanket, blindly moving the tattered fabric of my shirt aside. Rough fingers found the soft skin of my back and moved to the first prominent knob of spine below my neck. Bending in close, he nuzzled in near enough to my ear that his whispered words scalded my skin. Speaking in an unfamiliar language, he ran his fingers down my spine with excruciating deliberation. Warmth spread through my torso, followed closely by a sensation that wasn’t altogether pleasant. It was like someone was folding my body in on itself, and it went unwillingly. Armen’s hand spread wide and pressed against my back firmly. The writhing stopped and for an inter-spacial moment between the press of his hand and cessation of my wings’ movement, I experienced nothing—no sound, no sight, no smell, no taste. It was as if I didn’t exist. And in that space, something immense waited for me. With a deep, shuddering breath, I came back to myself and began to live again.

“Noah.”

Armen’s call wasn’t necessary. The other man was already there, taking me by the elbow and walking me to a table farther away from the activity and the front door. He settled me in a chair and tucked my blanket more securely around my shoulders. “You all right?”

I looked up at him and tried to smile, not trusting myself to speak.

“Hang tight. I’m going to get you something to eat.” He strode away from the table and left me sitting alone. Unguarded. The thought that I might be able to fade out of the room unnoticed was quickly put to rest by the massive arms that settled on either side of me. Gripping the table, large hands helped form a cage around my body. But what rendered me totally and completely trapped was the smell. I knew that smell—expensive cologne, silk sheets and an underlying, cloying scent of—

“Hello, angel.”

—brimstone. Color me fucked.

He leaned in to me, black hair overlapping my brown as it fell across my breast. His breath was sweet and hot against my ear as he laid his cheek against the side of my head. “I told you there was nowhere you could go that I wouldn’t find you.”

My heart thundered in my chest as a wild riot of emotions chased every beat. Nothing made sense. I wanted to shove out of my chair and wrap myself around him to prove he was alive. I wanted to curse him for leaving me. I wanted to curse him for not staying gone. I wanted it all and I wanted none of it. I spoke on an exhale alone. “You told me to go, to get out.”

“I did, though the destination I had in mind was more along the lines of the living room, not the fucking Canadian wilderness.”

“We’re in Montana.”

“Semantics. You ran. I found you.” The air stirred as he stood, pulling his hands away from the table to slide up my arms and over my shoulders. My blanket slipped and exposed bare skin and shredded shirt. He tsked at me. “Looks like someone’s been losing her temper.”

“Just trying to survive.”

“Aren’t we all.” He ran a hand under my hair and gripped my neck.

A warm sensation spread through me to the juncture of my thighs and I gasped, arching my back. My reality grew hazy and I struggled to hold onto reality. “You promised you’d never do this to me.”

“So you keep saying. Clearly your memory’s slipping, angel. You asked, but I never promised you anything.” His hands left me to hook under the edge of my chair, sliding me back slowly. “Stand up.”

I reached my feet at the same time Armen’s voice cut across the room. “Don’t do this, Cain.”

The demon at my back stepped in closer to me. “Armen.”

“Clearly introductions aren’t necessary,” I said softly.

Cain chuckled low. “He didn’t tell you?”

“It was none of her business. It didn’t…it doesn’t change anything.” Armen stepped closer to us. “Look. Michael wanted me to show up before someone here made some piss poor choices.” The Fallen’s brows drew down as he glared at Cain. “Malkuth’s not happy, dude.”

“Yeah, well, they can get in line.”

“What happened?” Armen stepped closer yet again.

The sincere concern on his face confused the hell out of me.

“The Playground. You want to talk this out?” The grin in Cain’s voice was unmistakable, but I turned to look just the same. “I’d have thought they’d send someone a bit more schooled in diplomacy.”

Snippets of the conversation rearranged themselves in my mind. He didn’t tell you. Malkuth’s not happy. They’d send someone. I looked up and met Armen’s level stare. He wasn’t watching Cain at all. “No.” I shook my head. “Tell me you’re not Malkuth’s…Malkuth’s…”

“I’m Malkuth’s answer to the ESO,” Armen said in a voice cold enough to frost my fear.

“Answer me, Armen.” Cain still grinned, but the humor bled from his voice like a fatal wound. “Where does this leave us?”

Armen crossed his arms over his chest. “Your offer from Malkuth still stands. I’ve been hired to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

The conversation reorganized itself again as things began to fall into a rudimentary image that explained so many things. “No.” I turned back to Cain. “What does he mean Malkuth’s not happy?”

“Looks like we’ve both been holding out on her,” Armen said quietly. “Cain’s my best friend.”

The pain in his voice sliced through me so efficiently, igniting my compassion in that one pass, that I nearly looked down to see if I’d been wounded or burned. My mind reeled. Knowing that Armen was Makluth’s answer to Cain’s contract and that Malkuth was upset with Cain’s private response meant a few facts became clear. Cain was the one person Armen stood to lose in all of this, Sheol had punished Cain to try and get him to act on the ESO, and Malkuth had entered the fray and was trying to sway Cain in his decision to execute me. And if Malkuth was worried, Cain had either made, or come close to making, his decision.

Armen’s subdued tone only punctuated the fact that the entire bar had gone silent as they watched the exchange. “I don’t think this is the best place to have this conversation.”

Cain nodded once, sharp. “Agreed.”

“The cabin?”

“Fine. But call off your familiar.” He shot a glance over his shoulder where Noah stood, leaning against the wall. “At the moment, I’m not looking for a fight.”

“I don’t want to come against you, Cain.” The underlying pleading in Armen’s voice broke things down to such an elemental moment.

“Then don’t.” Cain’s answer was as soft, as broken, as Armen’s.

The Fallen turned away from Cain, and Noah moved up to usher us out the door.

WE TRAIPSED FROM THE bar to find Armen leaned against the car, a fresh cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He reached back and grabbed the blanket that rested near his hip, tossing it at me. “You’ll need this.”

I caught it before it hit the snow. “Where are we going?” My breath clouded on the bitterly cold air.

Armen sighed. “Just wrap up.” When I hesitated, he ground out, “Have I harmed you yet?”

“Define ‘harmed.’”

Noah stepped between us. “There are three of you and one of me. I can’t be between two of you at all times, so unless you each cut your shit—” his gaze met each of ours, one after the other “—I’m going to have to create a Bitching Schedule to make sure everyone gets fair field time.” He stepped up behind me and helped me spread the new blanket over my shoulders. “We’re going to Armen’s place.” I started toward the car and he dropped an arm over my shoulders. “Uh-uh. You can’t get there via car. We’ll be riding.”

I was almost to Armen when I stepped wrong and slipped on a patch of ice. Flailing, I tried to regain my balance. Someone grabbed my bare hand and my vision didn’t fade. It shot to black. The coppery tang of blood came through before blurry images began to form. The sounds of fighting were subdued, the sense of heavy fists hitting muscled skin followed by blossoming pain and a killing rage. The mirage of a body lay unmoving in the snow. Long hair meant nothing to me and I had no sense of male or female. Why couldn’t I see? I strained and had the impression of height and dark hair.

Before I could move forward, panic swamped me and the scene in front of me began to dissolve. Struggling to stay in the moment, I watched the vision fracture. I needed to know who was on the ground, damn it. The loss of control spiraled out and I fell to my knees, clutched my head and gave in to the sensation of chaos.

THICK, MEATY THUDS FOLLOWED by harsh breathing and grunts were familiar yet insignificant sounds when compared to the pounding conga in my skull. Melted snow puddled around me, soaked up by my jeans, socks and shoes. The unrelenting cold seeped through my skin to settle in my muscles.

“F-f-f-f-uck-k-k-k,” I stuttered. “Wh-wh-wh-a-t-t hap-p-p-pened? And-d-d-d wh-why d-d-d-d-do I alw-w-ways end-d up-p on the g-ground-d-d-d.” Words wouldn’t form without adding several extra syllables. The chaotic vision finally relinquished the last of its hold on me and I tried to push myself to standing. My muscles protested and I ended up falling backward, landing on my ass.

“Enough!”

The pounding noises stopped, replaced by the sounds of harsh breathing and footsteps. Boots stopped just inside my field of vision, confusing me.

Had there been boots in my vision?

“You fools gonna leave this girl out here to die?” The boots had a voice. He spat tobacco and it landed a few feet from me. “Because that’s what’s gonna happen if you don’t get her outta here before Randy and his crew come out and find you two preoccupied with beatin’ the shit outta each other and your third tryin’ to split it up.” He squatted down and pushed my hair off my face, shaking his head.

I rolled my eyes up and recognized the bartender.

“I’d take you in, but I ain’t prepared to defend against whatever it was as drove you to Redemption.” He looked ashamed to admit it.

I blinked slowly, keeping my eyes focused on him. It seemed important to not let him think he was being cowardly. Hell, I was only here because I’d been abducted. Twice.

My muscles seized from the cold and I groaned, only to be picked up and held close to Armen’s chest. His heart thundered beneath my ear but he handled me without straining. My eyes, the only piece of my body that seemed to move at will, sought his face and I sucked in air. He was beaten bloody, one eye nearly swollen shut, upper and lower lips split, amber eyes furious and brilliant.

“Hand her over, Armen.” Cain’s voice was colder than the snow pack I’d been sitting in.

“I’m not sure whether to just tell you ‘no’ or punctuate it with ‘fuck off.’” My personal Sherpa started across the street and my head flopped over to see where we were going. Please, not the snowmobile. The snowmobile. Crap. That must be what riding meant to Noah.

Cain’s booted steps followed, crunching through the snow. It was the only way I knew he hadn’t left.

“Wh-wh-wh-why—” I clamped my jaw shut, trying to stop the stuttering and the violent shaking.

“Why were we fighting? It doesn’t matter,” Armen snapped.

“You’re not leaving with her. She’s my ticket out. Either way, she’s my only hope.” Cain sped up and slapped a hand on the Fallen’s shoulder. “You know that my only hope for freedom is with the contracts I’ve been offered on her, Armen. You’ve got to understand that.”

“What I understand is that, right or wrong, you haven’t made a choice, Cain. She can’t be your salvation if you’re afraid to choose the right road to get you there.” Armen rolled to dislodge Cain’s hand, stepping away from him at the same time he continued forward. He cradled me close to his chest as he swung a leg over the snowmobile. The loud engine roared to life and I saw Armen look dismissively at Cain. “I don’t want this to destroy you, Cain. If keeping you away from her means you survive, even bound to Sheol, it’s what I’ll do.”

“Like hell you will,” Cain snarled. He flung himself at Armen. Using his neck as a pivot point, he slung a leg over the backseat of the snowmobile. The Fallen choked but didn’t give ground as Cain settled in behind him. The added weight sunk the machine further into the dense snow.

My head flopped over and I saw Noah, nose bloody and countenance furious, swing onto a second machine. He met my stare and shook his head, swiping at the blood on his upper lip and wincing when he bumped his nose. “Assholes.” He started his machine. “Truce is called until we get this sorted out at the cabin. Agreed?”

They must have all agreed because we took off, our motor straining under the burden of the third passenger it wasn’t meant to haul. Wind whipped around us and I was forced to close my eyes and turn my face into Armen’s chest. I thought he flinched but, with the vibration of the motor we straddled, I couldn’t be sure.

I knew we were going to Armen’s place, but there were too many questions left unanswered, too many things I was going to demand they share with me when I thawed out. The idea that my thaw cycle might not be realized before June of next year crossed my mind. Regardless of what they wanted to tell me and what they intended to withhold, there were a few things I knew for sure, not the least of which was that both Sheol and Malkuth had offered contracts on my life and, presumably, my soul. If Cain chose Sheol, I was as good as dead and damned. If he chose Malkuth, and Malkuth’s intent was presumably to save me from damnation, I just might survive. But how to convince him? What tools did I have?

Against an incubus? my conscience whispered. Are you really that naïve?

I’d only thought I was in deep shit before.

CHAPTER TWENTY

WE WERE ON THE snowmobile long enough for me to establish a theory about time: When you’re freezing your ass off and unable to do anything about it, the passage of time stops. The white on white on white scenery became hypnotic and had someone asked me to cluck like a chicken or speak in tongues, I undoubtedly would have. It seemed to take forever for us to get to Armen’s. When we finally pulled into the yard, I was stunned. A sleek log and stone cabin stood confidently in the middle of a moderate clearing. Two tall chimneys—one at each end of the peaked roof—adorned the end-walls of the house and lights blazed from several windows. A porch wrapped around the entire home. Rocking chairs were scattered like personal invitations to have a seat, take in the view, relax. Armen shut the snowmobile down and, somewhere nearby, a creek wandered, water playing merrily over rocks to call out its location.

Cain stood and Armen followed. They stared at each other for an interminable second before Armen started up the stairs to beautiful glass and iron front doors. Noah trudged up the steps behind us, still muttering about the idiocy of the Fallen he was burdened with and the demon who accompanied him.

“Oh, shut up,” Armen called back over his shoulder. “You could have chosen a new familiar when I fell.”

“Don’t think I haven’t spent years kicking myself over my choice,” Noah countered. “Years.” He pushed past us and stalked down a short hall, slamming a door. He immediately opened it and came back out, shoving a finger over me and into Armen’s face. “You tell her, Armen, or by the love of Malkuth and my honor to the Holy, I will.” Turning on his heel, he went back down the hall and slammed the door again.

“I see he still has a thing for theatrics.” Cain shut the door behind him and kicked off his boots, setting them in a mud tray next to the door with a sense of familiarity.

Armen carried me to the sofa and, in a move somewhere between gently setting and intentionally dropping, put me down. He collapsed into a leather club chair and propped his socked feet up on the coffee table that stretched between us. “I’ll get you a shirt in a second.” Scrubbing his hands over his face, his hair matted down from the knit cap, he looked rugged. And very tired. I could relate.

“Don’t hesitate to make yourself at home,” Armen snarked, directing the comment over my shoulder.

I looked back and found Cain in the kitchen, popping the cap off a lager. He tilted the bottle toward me in mock salute before taking a long swallow. Leaning back against the granite counter, he crossed his ankles and studied the bottle.

“There’s clearly a lot to cover.” Armen’s statement recaptured my attention and I turned back to him. “To be frank, I’m not sure where to start.”

I choked on a borderline hysterical laugh. Standing, I moved to one of the large picture windows and stared out over the fast-darkening forest. Shadows crept toward the house. The menace of the encroaching darkness made me shiver and I stepped back. Where to start…

“You might ask her where she wants to start, shithead, instead of assuming she wants to hear your personal timeline.”

I smiled at Noah, who had changed into flannel lounge pants and a thermal shirt before rejoining us. He nodded his head, winking. Our camaraderie was cemented in that moment, and I knew I’d turn to him for answers first. That simple fact made it easier to decide with whom to start. “I’ve got so many questions, and I’m pretty sure the answers are only going to lead to more questions.”

He moved toward me and I let him come. Reaching out tentatively, he tucked a rogue curl behind my ear. His smile was sympathetic, his eyes warm. “Why don’t we sit and start at the beginning—just sort of work our way through it.”

“This isn’t the fucking Dating Game, Noah, so drop the smarm,” Cain snapped, his words so biting they were nearly rabid.

Noah shook his head. “You need to learn the difference between extending compassion and experiencing compulsion.” The man reached for my hand and I whipped them both behind me, taking a stumbling step back. He put his hands up, palms out, in a stop motion gesture. “Sorry. Habit.”

Noah turned to one of the bookshelves that framed the fireplace and pulled an old book down. The pages were clearly yellowed, the spine broken and the cover ratty. Carrying it to the sofa I’d vacated, he sat down and gestured for me to take a seat. “I won’t touch you, okay?”

“I’d appreciate that.” I moved back to the sofa and sat, shifting to curl up in the corner opposite him. “What’s with the book?”

“It’ll play into answering some questions. For now, let’s talk about what brought you here.”

I arched a brow. “That’s easy. A misguided belief that I’m the Key, a handful of threats, an ESO issued by my father, contracts and counter-contracts issued by Sheol and Malkuth, betrayal by a friend, two abductions, a couple of knuckle-draggers and a hundred thousand dollar car that now smells like vomit.”

Noah’s laugh was rich and warm and I answered with a genuine smile, probably the first I’d loosed since this all started.

“And here you thought she’d need us to explain things,” Armen drawled, sliding lower in his chair, closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I take exception to the knuckle-dragger comment.” Cain moved into the living area and sank into the companion club chair near Armen’s. His eyes were bright, the flecks of orange ablaze.

“You can change a lot of things about yourself, Cain, but you have to want to.” The censure in Noah’s voice was clear.

Cain grunted and slid down to nearly mirror Armen’s position.

Reclaiming the conversation, I said, “I guess the first thing I want to know is why in the world everyone seems so convinced I’m the Key.” The blanket still wrapped around my shoulders had a frayed corner and I couldn’t stop fussing with it.

“The book’s up first then.” Noah set it on the sofa between us and carefully flipped through cracked and faded pages. Stopping, he traced a finger down the page to find the right place to begin to read. He paused and looked up at me. “This is the Apocrypha, a book believed to have been lost millennia ago. Written by the Celestial Choir of Dominions, it’s a record of the Holy’s instructions to them regarding events past, present and future and mankind’s role in it all.”

I leaned forward in excitement. “I’ve heard of it. The Holy was supposed to have recorded all the major events of time in the book, but it disappeared. Speculation ran the gamut, some believing norms had tried to open it and they, and the book, had been consumed by holy fire. Others believed it was lost and one of the Celestial Choirs were sent to retrieve it until mankind was ready to know its truths.” Total silence met my little speech and I blushed, looking down as I tucked my hair behind my ears. “I, uh, loved history in school.”

“Why?” Noah asked with unabashed curiosity.

I lifted my face to his and was only brave enough to meet his eyes for a moment before looking back at the ragged edge of the blanket. “Because it was solid and undeniable, and because I didn’t have one of my own, I suppose.”

Noah caressed the page with absolute reverence. When he looked up, his eyes were rimmed in brilliant gold. Then he spoke and changed my world forever. “This is your history, Dani. You’re in here. ‘A child, born of Death’s proscribed union, shall herald the End of Ages. Having dominion over the animals, the child will be the beacon that calls together the Four Destructions. The Destructions shall be contained until said time as the child brings forth the Key. Communion taken from the Cup of Consequence shall signal the turning of the Key and release of the Destructions. The tides of war shall follow on its heels. Sought by Light and Dark, the child will be the prospect or perpetrator of mankind. A band of Guardians shall form, but only one shall deliver the Key.’”

Noah turned the book around so I could see the flowing script. My fingers shook as I reached out to trace the words the same way he had. The page warmed under my touch and I pulled my hand away to rub my fingers together and considered. “It’s sort of vague.”

“Not really.” Noah read back through the paragraph pertaining to the Key. “When it refers to you being born of Death’s union, it’s referring to your father and your mother. Both were intimate with death.”

Butterflies began lazy but persistent fluttering in my stomach and I laid a hand across my abdomen to encourage them to still. “Coincidence.”

“You have dominion over the animals,” Noah countered.

“I shoveled shit for a living. That’s hardly ‘dominion’ over anything except a shovel.”

“The animals respond to you, don’t they?” he pressed.

“Coincidence,” I whispered.

He read through the prophecy and stopped. “The Cup of Consequence is debatable, but it’s believed that it signals you choosing your side in the Apocalypse.”

My head snapped up. “Choosing my side?”

“Why, exactly, did you think Sheol and Malkuth were so eager to get their hands on you and your soul, Dani?” Cain heaved himself out of his chair and stalked in socked feet to the fireplace mantle. He gripped the broad, rough-hewn wood and did vertical presses against it. “Whoever controls your soul and the release of the Four Destructions, or Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, controls the end of the world.”

The butterflies in my stomach took up radical maneuvers. Black spots danced across my vision and I teetered on the edge of consciousness—or losing it.

“Head between your knees,” Armen snapped, bolting out of his chair and effectively spinning me around to press me into the position. “You have a thing for puking on my Italian leather, and I love this sofa. Show a little mercy and spare it.”

Panting, snot dripping from my nose, I grunted.

“I’ll take that as your acquiescence.” He lifted his hand from the back of my head and I sat up slowly.

Noah reached behind him and grabbed a tissue off the end table. “Here.”

Cain stared at me, eyes impossibly brighter than before. “You believe me now?” he asked.

Instead of answering him, I looked at Noah. “I don’t want this.”

“Sometimes our lives and our destinies come together in a catastrophic clash of divine design, where our own desires must battle our obligations. What defines you, Dani, are the choices you make. Will you let the clash run over you so you’re wounded, defined by it, a victim? Or will you choose to rise above the carnage and embrace who you are and what you have to do?”

His words cleaved me in two uneven pieces. One part of me wanted to reject his explanation, violently and with prejudice. But another part of me wanted to accept the challenge to rise above the absolute destruction of everything I thought I knew. “Were you ever a war general in charge of rallying the troops?” I asked, one corner of my lips quirking in a rough approximation of a smile.

He smiled and closed the book. “You’re the Key, Dani. Too many things point that way to believe it’s coincidence. The Apocrypha goes on to offer astrological assumptions supported by mathematical equations that give your approximate date of birth, your gender and a handful of other things. Written by the Holy, it’s going to be accurate and more than a little reliable.”

Understanding and acceptance paralyzed me physically and petrified me emotionally. It was the cosmic clash Noah had just referenced in his motivational speech. I just hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly. Things seemed so fundamentally black and white that I couldn’t help but wonder what choices there were for me to make. “So, what now?”

“He reads you some vague, bullshit passage out of an archaic book that’s been missing for lifetimes and you suddenly believe you’re the Key? What the fuck, Dani?” Cain bellowed, nearly driving me out of my skin.

I turned to face him slowly, the reality that the fate of the world really did rest on my shoulders an infinitely immense and precariously balanced burden. “It wasn’t instant acceptance, Cain. You started this ball rolling weeks ago, forcing me to reevaluate my life, forcing my evolution. You did this.” The overwhelming urge to blame him for my fate bubbled up in me like some vitriolic concoction made up of all of the events that were out of my control, and there were plenty of them.

“If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else.” Cain’s jaw clenched, the bundle of muscles at each hinge-point balling up. “And I didn’t kill you,” he muttered.

“You haven’t killed me yet,” I countered fiercely. “But you’ve considered it, weighed the pros and cons as far as what’s in it for you. Your hesitation has been about you.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but Noah interrupted, his brows drawing down. “How did he force your evolution?”

Cain’s face shut down and I barked out a humorless laugh. “He threw me off a building to see if I could fly.”

Noah gaped. “He did what?”

Armen burst out laughing. “Effective if not conventional means, man.”

Cain actually flushed a little. “She pissed me off.”

I shook my head and, without thinking about it, reached for my shoulder, rubbing it in small, self-consoling circles.

“For the love of the Holy, Cain. You could have killed her,” Noah snapped.

“She’s fine.” The demon turned away from us. “Besides, I didn’t know what else to do.”

My arms went around my core in an effort to hold me together. Bending forward, I rested my forehead on my knees, one foot vibrating with nervous energy. My mind wandered through conversations I’d had with Cain, things I’d heard him say. So much of it made sense now. “The angels in Idaho, in the hotel room—they came to make you the counter-offer, didn’t they.”

“Yeah.” He turned back to me and lifted his chin defiantly.

I turned to Armen and found him watching me through slitted eyes. “And what about you? You were quick to point out at every turn that I don’t know shit about any of this, particularly your motivations. What’s in it for you? Enlighten me.”

“No.” His gaze slid to Noah. “Say anything and we’ll end up taking this outside.”

“Armen?” Cain stepped away from the hearth. “What did they promise you?”

The Fallen opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the other man. “Same goes for you. Leave it alone.”

Cain’s shoulders bunched and he whipped his ear toward his shoulder, popping his neck.

I watched the exchange between the two men and couldn’t help but ask, “How do you guys know each other? What are you to each other?”

Armen and Cain clamped their mouths shut in unison, turning their gazes away from each other as one offered a jerky shrug and the other remained stonily silent.

With clear disgust in his voice, Noah said, “Cain saved Armen’s life. He had an ESO on Armen and he chose not to execute it.”

“Leave it alone.” This from Cain, whose discomfort grew until it seemed to scent the air. “We’re friends, Dani. Nothing more, nothing less. We’ve known each other a very, very long time.”

Armen laughed out loud. “That’s a diplomatic way of delivering the truth.”

“Details are irrelevant and will only muddy already murky waters.” Cain glared at the other man. “Nothing could have been done differently, Armen. Let it the fuck go. It’s been more than two thousand years.”

Armen lifted a shoulder in silent acknowledgment.

Watching the Fallen carefully, I tucked that little bit of information away. I’d ask Noah about it later. Turning back to Cain I asked, “Then what about you? What did each side offer you?” I tried to guard myself against his answer, aware that in this, like in everything he did, he’d have his own motivations.

He walked past me, swiping the empty lager bottle off the coffee table as he went. The fridge door opened and closed at my back, the pop and hiss of a metal top being twisted off a telling sound. Cain moved back by me and reclaimed his chair but sat on the arm instead of the seat cushion. Careful eyes assessed me. He looked at Noah and, from the corner of my eye, I saw the other man nod. The demon looked down and asked, “You sure you want to know?”

“I…” No. “Yeah.”

“Samil came to me with Lucifer’s markers and two sealed letters—one for me, one for Khavien. My letter outlined the hunt and the payment. The money was significant, but that wasn’t the kicker. They offered me the opportunity to be released from Sheol. I’d have one job per year for six years, then I’d be free to live as I chose.”

“No more Playground?” Armen asked sharply.

“Nope. I’d be free.” The last word—free—rolled off his lips, the sound little more than a soft seduction.

“What’s the Playground?” I asked, confused.

Voice flat and eyes emotionless, Cain asked, “Remember what started to happen in the hotel?”

“Yeah.” I shuddered and Armen turned toward me with barely contained violence.

I’d never heard a voice so cold as his was when he addressed me. “You saw what began to happen and you left him.” The Fallen’s nostrils flared and a diffused amber glow began to peek around the blue of his eyes.

“I told her to go,” Cain interceded.

“She needs to know precisely what keeping her alive cost you because until she sees it, she can’t comprehend the ultimate cost.” Armen heaved himself out of the chair and ripped off his shirt, turning around. A wicked, heavy rope of a scar ran down his left shoulder blade, its continuity dissected repeatedly by silver stripes, some narrow and others as wide as my thumb. The scars ran up under his hair and down to disappear under the waistband of his jeans. His voice shook with rage. “When an angel falls, they’re sent to Sheol for twenty-four hours before they decide to either live a damned life or try to re-earn admittance to Malkuth by living in isolation Topside. In my twenty-four hours, they did this and more to me. The wing they took will only grow back if Malkuth deigns it. The other wing was stripped of feathers…then skin…then muscle. As an immortal, I couldn’t die no matter how much I pled, but without the benefit of Malkuth’s power, it took me months to heal.” His hands fisted, his entire torso strained with fury and his neck corded as he turned back to me. Armen stalked toward me slowly, leaned over and said, “Now ask Cain what they did to him.”

“Enough,” Noah snapped. “Cain, what did Malkuth offer you to counter Sheol’s contract?”

A look of doubtful wonder spread across Cain’s face. “They offered to intervene in Sheol’s summonings, effectively cutting me off from the underworld.” He swallowed hard enough I heard it. “And…” Sliding down the arm of the arm of the chair, he sank into the cushion. Burying his face in his hands, it was hard to understand him when he spoke. Giant goose bumps spread over my body and I felt my breath catch.

“They’ve offered me a chance to Ascend and become a Blessed Believer. They’ve offered me redemption.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MORE THAN A LITTLE stunned at Cain’s announcement, no one really knew what to say. Were congratulations appropriate when the recipient made it clear he was unsure the offer was an entirely good thing? Did we lift a glass with him in support? Or should we just go on like nothing had happened and wish him well in making his decision, particularly not knowing what Armen’s offer had been? No one volunteered anything as silence stretched out interminably. Noah shoved off the sofa and took the book back to his room without a word, leaving us to stare at each other uncomfortably.

Armen finally stood and, moving by Cain, clapped him on the shoulder in silent acknowledgment of his announcement. Such a gesture from me was impossible for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that I was now terrified to know what Cain’s future held with it being so intimately tied to mine. I eased off the sofa. “Can I get that shirt?”

Both men looked at me, and Armen nodded. “Sure. Gimme a second and I’ll grab something of Noah’s. He’s a little smaller so his stuff should fit you a little better.”

Smaller in reference to Noah was sort of funny and I smiled. The “smaller” man was probably still six and a half feet tall. At this point, though, I’d take whatever I could get.

Armen’s departure left Cain and me alone for the first time since I’d run from the scene at the hotel. I wasn’t sure what to say, and the fact he watched me so intently didn’t help. The bookshelves were full of both books and knickknacks, things from around the world that bespoke a long life full of travels. I perused the shelves, only partially aware of the contents and titles. Some of the stuff made sense while other bits and pieces were clearly without logical explanation, sentimental and significant to the owner alone.

“Here.” Armen’s gruff voice interrupted me. “It should fit if you roll the sleeves up.”

The green flannel shirt he handed me was soft and faded from a hundred washings, the kind of shirt you could find comfort in wearing. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Um, I suppose I should ask if you want to lie down for a little while. It’s been a while since you slept.” He shifted back and forth, foot to foot, looking over my head and out the nearest window into the absolute darkness outside.

“Did Noah tell you to offer?” I asked, unable to hide the smile in my voice.

Armen’s grin lit up his face and rendered me both dumb and mute. He went from sullen to stunning with that one change, and my mind struggled to process the change. When he looked down at me and saw my reaction, he paused, the grin fading. “What?”

“You just haven’t, um,” I flapped my hand ineffectually. “Yeah. You just don’t smile much.”

The more familiar scowl settled across his face. “I do too.”

“You aren’t really going to argue over this are you?” Cain asked, standing and shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m starving. Plus, Dani looks like she’s about to fall face-first onto the nearest horizontal surface.” He moved around Armen and reached out to lift my chin. I tried to jerk it away but he held fast. “When’s the last time you slept, angel?”

At the thought of sleep, my mind went completely hazy. “I’m not sure.”

“C’mon.” He looked at Armen. “I’m putting her in the loft.”

“Works for me. There are extra blankets in the cedar chest at the foot of the bed. She’ll need ‘em tonight.” Armen turned away and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll make dinner and save you something, Dani.”

“Thank you.”

The Fallen kept walking but called back, “For what?”

Thanking someone for basic kindnesses had never been so difficult. “For the shirt and the offer of dinner.”

He paused and looked over his shoulder, an unfamiliar warmth in his eyes. “What, you’re not going to thank me for abducting you, too?” His lips twitched, and I realized he was trying not to smile.

I shook my head and laughed softly. “You hold onto that dream, big guy.”

His widened grin obliterated the last of the hostile façade he had struggled to re-erect. “I’m going to. Eventually, you’ll thank me.”

“Comedy hour’s over. Let’s go.” Cain touched my arm and I turned to follow him. Of all the places I had imagined myself ending up, it had never been the Montana wilderness housed with a demon, a Fallen and an unknown.

WE TRUDGED UP THE stairs. Okay, Cain walked. I trudged. The thought of sleep became more important to me than anything else and all I wanted was to put the flannel shirt on, climb under weighty covers and let warmth and sleep cocoon me. They could compete for my affections for days and I’d be happy. Cain stepped aside as we topped the stairs and I moved past him. It took me a moment to process what I saw.

An unbelievably ornate iron bed stood in the middle of the room, anchored to the acres of wood floor by an aged oriental rug. The bedding was piled deep, as were the pillows. The cedar chest sat at the foot of the bed as promised and several pieces of antique furniture dotted the large, open space.

“You want me to come get you for dinner?”

I glanced at Cain. He appeared almost too large for the loft. “I don’t know.” My stomach growled, impossibly loud, and he grinned grimly.

“Sounds like you need to eat.” He surprised me when he moved deeper into the room and sat down in a rocking chair.

The fight was almost completely gone from me at this point. The last few days had been too much. My adrenaline had never had a chance to come down and it was taking the opportunity to crash while it could. I swayed on my feet, eyelids so heavy they felt made of lead. The bed beckoned. Stepping forward, my foot caught on the old rug and down I went. I sat there, wondering at the impossibility of getting up. Malkuth save me, I was exhausted and at the end of my rope. Maybe I’ll lie here…just for a minute.

“Let’s go, angel.” Cain was suddenly there. He swooped down on me and picked me up with brisk, impersonal movements, his frustration bleeding through the fog of my muted awareness.

With half-lidded eyes that wouldn’t focus, I realized he was stepping up to the bed. My head lolled to the side and rested against his chest. My breathing slowed. I’d forgotten how warm he was, how good he smelled when you got past the faint whiff of brimstone. “Why are you being nice to me?” I mumbled.

“You want me to be an asshole?” His chuckle rumbled through his chest. “I would have thought you’d have had enough of that.”

“You confuse me.”

“The feeling’s entirely mutual.” The words were so soft I wasn’t sure I hadn’t imagined them.

The next thing I knew, I was under the covers. Someone had taken my shoes off and tucked me in, the green flannel shirt nestled close. I don’t know how I knew it with certainty, but I did: I was alone. Rolling over, I snuggled into the down bedding. I smiled and thought, “Seems sort of hypocritical that I’m sleeping on someone else’s plucked feathers.” Sleep washed over me in an epic wave of oblivion, pulling me under to drown me in terror.

I WALKED DOWN A long corridor, sooty as if charred by some great fire. Grit and ash rubbed off on my fingertips as I trailed them down once white walls, leaving four wavering lines in my wake. I wandered past rooms and closed doors, though nothing interested me. I was in no great hurry. The sounds of terror and the stench of fearful desperation were nothing to me. I smiled but the emotion went no farther than my lips. My heart seemed suspended in a cold void. Instinct had me reach up to pat my chest but all I found was a hole that gaped where my heart should have been. I screamed, scrabbling at the gaping, bloodless wound, jagged edges of bone shredding the pads of my fingers. The screaming went on and on as other voices joined in, and I couldn’t stop.

I SHOT OUT OF bed and ran straight into a wall of muscle. Strong arms wrapped around me and I folded into them, tucking my hands against my chest to keep them free from the danger of contact. My labored breathing wasn’t alone in the room. Whoever held me was panting and his heart was booming in rapid-fire beats under my ear. I chanced a glance up and found Noah searching the room, his eyes a molten gold that defied reality.

“What happened?” he snarled, his voice deeper, broader than I’d ever heard it.

I tried to ease out of his arms but they only tightened. “Noah, let me go. I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are.” Still holding me, he continued to peer into the recesses of the room. His nostrils flared and he looked down, brows drawn to form a harsh ‘v’ in his forehead. “You’re bleeding.”

“No, I’m no—” I stumbled over the last word as my hands dragged through a sickeningly familiar warmth on my chest. “Let me go.” I struggled and used my elbows to push back at him until he finally released me. The front of my shirt now matched the back, vertical shredded ribbons barely covering what I needed in order to maintain any decency. “My dream,” I began, recollection a stone-cold bitch that grabbed me, ratcheted up my fear and wouldn’t let go. “In my dream, I was in Sheol. I was different, heartless.” I choked out a sob. “Literally. I was…oh, shit.” Bending at the waist, I propped myself up on my thighs and worked to get my breathing under control. Blood dripped to the floor, my self-inflicted wounds deeper than I’d thought.

The front door slammed shut, Armen’s and Cain’s voices rolling up to us. Their jovial banter stopped when they realized my light was on. Light steps started up the stairs until Noah barked out a response in a language I didn’t recognize. Then those steps changed from tentative to thundering. The Fallen and the demon fought to make it to the top of the stairs first. They slid into the room on socked feet, both fighting not to shift to their alternate, more dangerous forms.

“Are you alright?” Armen demanded, his voice richer, deeper, smoother, at the same time Cain apparently scented the blood.

The demon took five long steps to me and hauled me upright, ignoring my squeak of protest. He raked me with his gaze, head to toe, pausing at the deep scratches. “Who did this?”

“I did,” I snapped, trying to break free of his grasp. “I had a nightmare.”

“About what?” Cain asked. I hesitated and he tightened his hold on my arms, bruising me. “Damn it, Dani, about what?” He punctuated the end of his question with two sharp shakes.

“Hands off,” Noah snapped, slamming his fists down on Cain’s forearms. “You don’t manhandle her and demand answers, Cain. Not here and particularly when you’re undecided.”

I lifted my head and stared at Cain, dumbfounded, my near nakedness all but forgotten. “You haven’t decided?” My incredulity wasn’t tempered with common courtesy and couldn’t be masked.

Cain glanced back and forth between us and threw his hands in the air. “You’re making this impossible!” he roared, starting back to the stairs.

I charged after him and watched him take them two at a time. “Me? How am I making this impossible? It’s a matter of choice, you incompetent tool. You choose Malkuth or you choose Sheol. You choose, Cain. You. Notice something? I’m absent from that decision process!” I yelled.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, his movements wooden, his voice muffled. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Look, Dani. I’m a hired killer and an incubus. I get paid to kill and to fuck, usually together. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m good at. Don’t you get that?” He dropped his hands and tried for nonchalance, leaning up against the rail post at the bottom of the stairs. His attempts failed. “Nowhere in my job description, in my reality, has my personal choice been considered. If I choose Sheol’s offer, I live how I want, without consequence. If I choose Malkuth, I’m choosing a different, more rigid set of rules that require me to live right. I’m not sure I ever lived right when I was wholly human, so what’s to say I could do it now? It’s not hard to see why I’d take the first offer and be done with the hardships. All you have to do is pull off the rose-colored glasses and take a good, long look.”

“You bastard,” I said softly.

Blue eyes blazed at me. “Don’t live under the delusion that this is about you, Dani.”

“Get out.” He didn’t move so I grabbed a stoneware bowl from the top of a decorative table and stepped back around the corner. Hauling back, I hurled it at him and watched with sick glee as he yelped and ducked out of the way.

“You crazy mutt!” he yelled.

Armen brushed past me as he thundered down the stairs and got in Cain’s face. Nose to nose, the two friends stared at each other, one light, one dark. “That’s it. We’re done with this conversation. If you touch her while she’s here, I’ll kill you myself.” He turned to leave but immediately came back. “You’re going to ruin your chances to ever be more than you are, Cain, and for what? ‘Freedom?’” He shook his head and stalked toward the door. “You don’t know shit about freedom.” Armen stopped at the door, laying his arms against the glass and his forehead to his arms. The tension radiating from him was contagious.

I turned my attention back to Cain. My stomach clenched painfully and I was afraid for a moment that I’d be sick. “So, is this it then? You’ve decided to accept the first contract?” My voice was steady. Points to me.

“I’m…I can’t answer that for you.” Cain shifted his gaze to the fire. The logs shifted and sent a wave of sparks dancing merrily up the chimney.

“Why?” My voice cracked and I cleared my throat, determined to do this right. “Why, Cain? Why put me through the pain of making me believe in you when you didn’t intend to follow through for me?”

Cain’s gaze darted to mine. “Believe in me? You believe in me?” He let out a disbelieving bark of laughter. “After all of this, you drop this on me now?”

I couldn’t bring myself to affirm that I had, indeed, believed in him. Instead, I skipped ahead. “Why bother if you knew you were just going to kill me?” I took a page out of his book and stared at a point just over his shoulder, my jaw set.

Armen stood and turned to face Cain. “Get out.” His voice was bitterly cold, so remote I knew he’d withdrawn into a part of himself both heavily guarded and intensely private. “You’re welcome back here if, and only if, you change the path you’re on, Cain.”

“Armen.” Cain’s voice was tight.

“I’ve made my choice, and you’re right about one thing. It’s never about the person you think it is.” The Fallen stepped back and opened the door without another word. The rush of cold air swept through the room, feeding the fire and raising goose bumps on my skin.

Cain stared at me, a wild array of emotions racing across his face before he tamped them down with cold indifference. With a sharp nod, he turned and headed for the door. Grabbing his boots and jacket, he stepped out onto the front porch. The click of the front door latch setting was as effective as a slammed door.

I had hoped, somewhere inside me, that he would choose me. The shutting of that door broke something in me that had taken a chance, placed faith in someone finding me valuable enough to make the hard decisions for, and I crumpled to the floor.

Noah knelt near me as Armen’s heavy footsteps climbed the stairs, stopping just shy of the carpet.

“C’mon, Dani. You’re getting cold enough to turn your toes blue. Back to bed with you.” Armen’s hands were gentle as he lifted me to my feet and guided me toward the bed.

“You don’t like me,” I said softly. “It will be easier for me if you’re not nice to me now. That way when you turn on me it won’t be so hard to take.”

He cursed beneath his breath then caught me completely off guard, my eyes flying wide when he slung an arm around my shoulders and laid a tender kiss to the top of my head. “I’m not leaving.”

A warm hand touched my arm and golden eyes searched out my amber ones. “Neither am I.”

All I could do was nod my understanding. The words of gratitude wouldn’t come, no matter how I tried to coax them to the surface. It wasn’t that I was ungrateful. I knew they believed their own sincerity, but I wasn’t willing to believe in either of them or it. After all, Cain had defied Sheol for me, saved me from Tarron and kept me safe, all to more effectively deliver the crushing blow when he left. But it’s like he said. When did he ever promise you anything else? my conscience pressed. It wasn’t the first time in my life I tuned out my internal voice, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.

Armen folded the covers back and silently ushered me into bed, tucking the bedding around me. “Rest, Dani. I’m staying here and Noah will be downstairs.”

“Who is he to you?” I asked, refusing to look at him.

“Who? Noah?”

“Yeah.” I rubbed my forehead and turned on my side to face Armen, who had pulled the rocking chair up close to the bed. Noah stood near the footboard, his face congenially blank.

Armen drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He’s like a guardian.” He shot a look at Noah then back to me. “I am, or was, an archangel, Dani. When I Fell, my punishment wasn’t severe by the standards of either Sheol or Malkuth.” He rolled his shoulders, seeming to feel the weight of the fabric against his scars. “I was sent to Earth to earn forgiveness, to re-Ascend. Noah’s here in the event I choose to Fall permanently.”

“He’ll stop you.” My voice felt small in the face of such a huge realization.

“Yeah. He’ll stop me.” Armen’s gaze met and held the other man’s. “He’s empowered to take me down in the event I can’t keep it together and end up giving in to temptation. The last thing Sheol needs is the power of another Fallen archangel with such intimate information about Malkuth.”

Noah touched my foot and I started. “I won’t hurt you, Dani. And for all Armen thinks I’m just a Watcher, I’m very fond of him. Time does that.” His smile was benevolent.

“But what are you?” I asked, awed.

An entire conversation seemed to pass between the two men before Noah answered. “Exactly what I said, Dani. I’m a Watcher. There’s not an earthly equivalent. I’m assigned to a particular soul, given guardianship of its secrets and security, and I ensure that it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands, by choice or by fate.”

“So you would have to kill him if he chose to Fall?” I pressed.

Noah nodded. “Likewise, if his soul was in danger of being compromised by Sheol, I would be required to stop that from happening by whatever means were necessary.” He was so nonchalant about it all, as if this was a simple, everyday matter. Of course, to him I supposed it was.

I snuggled deeper into the bed, my brain too tired to process such a complex concept as a soul’s guardian. My mind wandered, the oblivion of sleep teasing me despite my fear of the dreams that might haunt me. My eyes drifted closed. A dry towel was pressed against my shredded skin and I hissed before accepting the pressure, and the pain.

Like with so many difficult questions, when you don’t look at it head on the answers are clear. I suddenly understood, with sickening clarity, what this meant, what Armen’s earlier statements meant and, likely, why he resented me. Moving very slowly, I lifted my chin to look first at Armen, then at Noah. “Will I have a Watcher?”

Again, the two men looked at each other before Noah said, “You will, though we haven’t been told who it’ll be.”

I pushed myself to sitting and pressed the cloth against the deep scratches, clinging blindly to the pain I could rationalize and understand as a simple, one-dimensional thing. I found myself wishing that I could reach out and lay a comforting hand over Armen’s. His situation was neither simple nor one-dimensional. I didn’t want to ask, but I need to be sure I understood the stakes. “You’re Cain’s Watcher, aren’t you?”

Grief etched his face and he fought to control the amount it revealed. “I am.”

Empathy nearly choked me. “I want to understand.”

“What? Why he has a Watcher?” Armen asked.

“Yeah. If it’s too hard to talk about, it’s all right.”

“It’s damned hard, but it doesn’t change anything,” he snapped. Running his hands through his hair, he leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. “Watchers stop souls from falling into the wrong hands, Dani. Some souls have a more important role to play than others. Me? I had intimate knowledge of one of Malkuth’s most treasured books, and Sheol wanted it. When I chose to try to earn my re-Ascension after Falling for twenty-four hours, Sheol issued an ESO for my soul. I’d been totally debauched in Sheol and it was both sickening and tempting in ways you can’t imagine. The temptation to just give in and return was there, but I couldn’t make myself do it. Cain was my Hunter. When he found me, let’s just say we found compassion for each other’s situation.” Armen shook his head. “I won’t go into details, Dani, but will only say that Cain spent a hundred years in the Playground for failing to execute me. He gave me the time I needed to heal and choose my path toward forgiveness.” Armen looked up at me, his eyes full of guilt and two thousand years of burdened knowledge. “He saved my life.”

Noah reached over and punched Armen in the shoulder hard enough the impact flipped the rocking chair over and dumped the Fallen out. “And Cain’s told you to stop the drama after two thousand years, princess.”

I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle the laugh that burst out.

Armen climbed to his feet and glowered at his Watcher. “What the fuck, man? Stop punching me. That’s twice today, plus you stuck your finger in my face.”

“Don’t get too worked up. It’s far from your personal best,” Noah responded, nonplussed.

Setting the rocker back to rights, Armen sat down and leaned toward me, forearms on his knees, his hair a tumbled mess. “Look, Dani. Malkuth set a Watcher on Cain because he’s got such immediate access to you. He’s also been offered an out, so to speak, by both teams, and that makes him unpredictable. My own offer from Michael to serve as a Watcher only came the day before I left to find you. I figured Cain would be where you were and I lucked out, running into you in Wyoming.”

“Wait. You knew you were coming after me, which means you scared the shit out of me, freaking herded me to the bar, on purpose?” I snarled.

He and Noah both had the grace and good sense to look abashed.

“You two ever do that again? I’m shooting you both,” I snapped.

Noah held up his hands. “He goes, I follow.”

“Oh don’t act like you didn’t have a little fun with it,” Armen said. “Back to Cain. If he goes back to Sheol and they up their offer somehow, he’s going to have more incentive to come for you without any of us knowing. It means I’m supposed to stick to him and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” He snorted. “Guy proved tonight that my presence isn’t going to stop him from being a dick, but that’s hardly fatal. Noah and I talked about it and we think I need to stick close to you until your Watcher gets here. If we’re both close to you, we limit your exposure and Cain’s not likely to do anything stupid with us around.”

“You left me with him earlier.” I hadn’t meant it to come out as an accusation, but it had.

Both men opened their mouth to speak, but Noah was faster. “We did. The thing is, we were both here and we…well, we screwed up.”

“Okay.” Had one, or both, of them offered excuses, I’d have flipped my lid. I’d always found it harder for me to get angry with someone who owned their actions, probably because so few people around me ever did. It was a novelty.

I pulled the pad away from my scratches, the cotton loop of the terrycloth pulling at the healing furrows. “I’m not your obligation at this point.” When they started to protest, I held up a hand and spoke quickly. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m really glad you’re here, and I’m not so stupid I’m going to go running off to do this, whatever it is I’m supposed to do, alone. But you can’t jeopardize your own chance to re-Ascend, Armen. Please.”

He stared at me, slack-jawed. “Seriously? It’s like you’re some sort of science project.” He dodged Noah’s swing. “What? People aren’t kind without some sort of self-serving purpose. She’s got nothing to gain from this.”

“You’ve been away from Malkuth a long time,” I murmured.

He hooted with laughter and Noah’s gaze darkened. “Malkuth isn’t all sunshine and rainbows and ponies for everyone, Dani.” His face sobered slightly, the smile still playing around his lips. “There’s a caste system and there are rules. We work. No one’s idle. But is it amazing? Yeah.” His face grew soft. “It is.”

Wait. “There’s a caste system in Malkuth?” I demanded. “How is that fair?”

Armen laughed, but it was bitter. “Only the Holiest is golden, Dani. The rest of us? We all live with a sliding scale of tarnish.” The disillusionment must have shown on my face because Armen leaned in and tugged at my hair, his mood lifting. “Don’t judge what you can’t yet understand, Dani. Cain wants to Ascend more than anything. Or he did. We’ll keep an eye on him and see whether or not he lands on his feet when he leaps this time.” Despite his attempt at nonchalance, Armen’s worry was clear.

Noah shouldered past Armen and sat on the edge of the bed. “Sleep, Dani. We’ve got some time to set this to rights and figure out what we’re going to do.”

“What about Sheol’s Hunters and the ESO and—” I yawned, “—the book, and other stuff I don’t know yet that I’ll need to know that you’ll need to tell me.”

Armen’s brow creased. “You scare me sometimes.”

“Cain used to say the same thing,” I said, my words barely audible.

Noah’s soft lips brushed across my temple. “There will be plenty of time to worry after you’ve slept. In the meantime, let me and Armen assume the watch towers. You just rest.”

The shadows of the night grew long as the moon set. The Aurora Borealis moved outside the frosted windowpane and, even in my current fugue, I thought it one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. But, like everything beautiful, it faded. The loft cooled perceptibly and a soft, deep voice began to hum. A hand stroked my head. The fact that I’d found comfort with these two was, in itself, a miracle. But it didn’t change the fact that my last conscious thought was about a demon, out there in the cold, with murder on his mind.

Cain.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

THE SHOWER WAS A total indulgence. Waterfall heads, steam options, heated floors—Armen hadn’t missed a thing, and this was only the guest bath. I wanted to sneak into the master and see what luxuries he’d hidden away in there.

I have no idea how long I’d slept, only that I’d woken up physically recharged, slightly sore and emotionally numb. The wounds on my chest were almost healed, but the wounds to my psyche were still raw and bleeding freely. Only one set of wounds concerned me when it came to scarring.

Shaking off the self-pity, I stepped from the shower and lost myself in the comfort of routine, drying my hair and donning borrowed sweats. I had to cinch the waist up tight, but the comfort-factor was off the charts, and I wasn’t complaining.

The smells of breakfast wafted up to the bathroom and my stomach roared in response. Hair still damp, I skipped down the stairs and stopped. The table was set, food was mounded on serving platters and fresh coffee steamed from a carafe near the head of the table. Both men were seated, lost in discussion. Their heads turned in unison, taking me in, and I felt incredibly exposed and well outside my own environment. I raised a hand lamely and started across the floor. Noah stood abruptly, Armen following with more studied apathy.

“Good morning,” Noah said, stepping toward me. “Slept well, I hope?”

“Yeah.” I looked over at Armen. “Everything alright?”

A preoccupied smile played around the corner of his lips. “Fine. Strategy planning gets me wound up. I need to eat then burn off some excess energy.” He lifted one shoulder indifferently. “No big deal.”

Not understanding but also not really wanting to, I left Armen’s comments alone. A place setting had been laid out for me and I took the opportunity to pile my plate high before sitting down to eat. Noah poured me a cup of coffee and passed it over. The clink of silverware resonated in the cavernous space of the vaulted ceiling, sounds alternately muffled and enhanced.

The men plowed through the food with single-minded focus. It took me a little while to realize that the fourth place setting remained untouched. Armen had waited for Cain to return. Faith burned in him, his hope driving him to look out the windows at regular intervals as we ate, to search for any sign that Cain was coming back, to find that the demon had made the redeeming choice. The meal long finished, Armen sat at the table and waited, a large mass of reserved hope that evolved to bitter violence with the second hand’s every tic.

I began to clean up dishes, glancing at Armen now and again. My concern was sincere, but there wasn’t anything I could do for him at this point. Cain would choose Malkuth’s offer or he wouldn’t. The cup in my hand slipped and shattered against the tile floor. Armen erupted from his seat, spinning to locate the target. The realization that it was me seemed to disappoint him. He turned back to the table and gripped the edge, his shoulders bunching under his flannel shirt.

“Being cooped up in here is making me fucking nuts.” The sound of creaking, splitting wood was loud over the more natural background noises. The heavy oak table had become the victim of his frustration, cracking and splintering under his hands’ unrelenting pressure. “Damn it!” He yanked his hands back and slowly turned. “I’ll be outside.”

I watched him warily and swallowed hard. “Sure.”

The Fallen shut the door with intentional, exaggerated care and stepped off the porch before I felt like I could breathe. Noah emerged from the small pantry with a broom and dustpan, moving silently to the table’s edge and beginning to sweep up the mess.

I moved up behind him and touched him with the back of my hand. “I suppose he’s better than a wood chipper.”

Noah snorted and kept working.

“Hey. I’ll do this. Why don’t you go see that he’s alright?”

The Watcher’s shoulders slumped. “This was my biggest fear for him—that he’d take this contract and get back to Malkuth but with such resentment that he’ll spend eternity miserable, maybe even choose the true end for an angel as punishment. I don’t want to see that happen, and I don’t want to end up forced to intervene.” He blew out a hard breath and turned to face me. “Sorry. I’ve not discussed this with anyone since…” He paused and cocked his head to the side in a move that made him appear “other” for the first time. “I guess this is the first time I’ve discussed it with anyone.” He smiled. “Thanks.”

“Be still.”

He nodded, eyes grave.

I leaned in and laid a soft kiss on his cheek, watching up close as his magnificent eyes flew open. Breaking contact, I stepped back and watched him struggle.

He cleared his throat and touched the spot where I’d kissed him before looking at me. “Thank you, Ambriel Danitheus Phael.”

“Just Dani, Noah. I’m no one beyond that name.”

This time it was he who stepped in close and drew me into an embrace. “You are so much more than you see when you look in the mirror.” Laying his lips against the crown of my head, he whispered into the curls.

The words were unintelligible but heartfelt and, when he stepped away, I felt a sense of longing to slip back into his arms. It was completely platonic, purely innocent, but the feeling was there. Noah represented safety and security, a person in whom my faith would prove well placed—for once.

He looked down at me, his smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes and making them sparkle with genuine goodwill. “I’m going to take you up on your offer.” The smile faded. “Armen’s hurting and needs to work off some anger so he doesn’t do something stupid.”

“What’s his story, Noah? How did he Fall?” I’d wanted to ask since learning he was Fallen. Now that I knew he was an archangel, though, there was a burning need to understand.

“That’s his to tell or not, Dani. Regardless, I wouldn’t ask him about it just yet. Get to know him while you give him some time to settle down. He’s a good man.” Noah grabbed his jacket and sunglasses, looking back to me. “He may or may not talk about it. If he doesn’t, don’t push.”

“I won’t.” When he only continued to stare I added, “I promise.”

With a short nod, he stepped outside and called for Armen, and I went to work cleaning up the mess from the damaged table, the porcelain of the coffee cup I’d dropped and the little left of breakfast. It was odd to dig around in Armen’s kitchen, to make myself at home in a place that so clearly wasn’t.

Chores done, I grabbed the rug that lay in front of the sink and stepped outside to shake the shards of porcelain free. The sight that met me made me stop at the porch’s edge. I dug the fingers of my free hand into the rough cedar rail and watched.

Armen and Noah were stripped down to pants and boots, hair tied back, chests bare. They had come up with heavy swords of some sort and were pounding the shit out of each other. Armen was grinning like a maniac and Noah was grimly focused. They swung and ducked, leapt and dodged in a graceful pantomime of unparalleled violence. It was stunning.

Armen’s scars nearly glowed silver in the sunlight reflected from the snow—all except the wicked vertical scar that marked where his wing had been. Muscles rippled and moved as he sparred, sweat tunneling down the hollow of his back created by the heavy muscles on either side of his spine. It was remarkable. He was remarkable.

The Fallen used his extra reach to swing wide and nick Noah’s arm. The Watcher growled and threw his sword aside. His form began to shimmer, shifting.

Armen laughed and tossed his sword to the side and grew. On an average day, the guy pushed seven feet tall. Today was clearly an above-average kind of day. He drew in on himself then stood, expanding in every manner. When he was done, one massive blue-tinted black wing was held out from a body that was easily now pushing ten feet tall.

Movement caught my eye and I turned back to Noah. I dropped the rug in the snow. A giant creature stood where the other man had been and I had the fleeting thought that I hoped it hadn’t eaten Noah while I wasn’t looking. With a coat of dappled brown, his body was that of a lion, with feet the size of tractor tires and defined by thick, rounded claws that curved into the ground. Dew claws were barbed. His head was that of a raptor—something like a hawk but not quite, the neck feathers flowing seamlessly into the fur that started above his shoulders. Large, gold-fringed wings tucked in close to his body. His tail was like a lion’s with two exceptions. The first is that the tail was tactile. The second was that there was a wicked, spiked ball—of bone?—at the end that looked very much like a medieval mace. It flicked back and forth, agitated.

The two revised versions of the men I knew moved on each other. There was no careful assessment of position or any type of tactical assumption. They threw themselves at each other without reserve, the sense of wild violence in and around them making my muscles twitch with the eons-old instinct to flee the superior predators.

They pounded on each other. It quickly became clear that it would be impossible to declare a winner unless they made this a fight to the death. It wasn’t, was it? I followed Noah carefully, watching for any sign he was working to kill his charge. The Watcher delivered brutal, punishing blows, but he kept his claws retracted. If he had intended to cause harm, he would have left them out.

Armen swung, jabbed, kicked and punched with beautiful grace. He sought Noah’s weaknesses and unguarded points, occasionally landing an almost playful punch. After one such jab to the soft spot near Noah’s hips, the creature screamed and Armen was forced to defend himself from a volley of vicious counterblows. The Fallen was being forced backward toward the edge of the creek that was just visible through a near copse of aspens.

“Uh-uh,” Armen grunted, swinging out and connecting with Noah’s chest. “I’m not going in.”

Noah screeched at Armen and spread his wings.

“Don’t do it, Watcher,” Armen growled, clearly disturbed.

Claws extending, Noah launched himself at Armen. He took a couple of solid blows before he managed to pin the Fallen to the ground. Wrapping those enormous claws around Armen’s arms, Noah launched himself into the air.

Armen struggled, cursing his Watcher with impressive creativity. A loud splash was punctuated by a high-pitched yelp, and Noah soared over the tree tops, landing in the front yard. He shifted back to his human form and I could only stare. He was in perfect condition. His pants and boots hadn’t been shredded by the shift. His hair wasn’t even mussed. Walking toward me with a confident swagger, he couldn’t seem to contain the smile that broke free. Noah’s eyes glittered a molten gold that defied definition and reality, brilliant and fluid. As distracting as it was, it didn’t matter. The humor on his face was contagious and I burst out laughing at the same—unfortunate—time Armen stormed out of the woods. Seeing him sopping wet made me laugh harder.

Noah jumped up on the porch and stood behind me, watching the Fallen stalk toward the house. “Stay between us for a minute.” His voice was laughing but his request was clearly sincere as he grabbed my upper arms and positioned me firmly in front of him. It startled me that I didn’t flinch when he touched me this time.

“Stop hiding behind the woman,” Armen ground out, taking the steps two at a time, tucking his wing up tight to his body.

“No way, man. I’m not suicidal.” Noah kept shifting me around so I constantly faced the man who stood across from us, soaked to the skin and shivering madly.

I held my hands out in front of me, fisted and backs to him, and couldn’t stop the small laugh that broke free.

Armen’s scowl eased as he looked at the Watcher hiding behind me, taking in the fact we were both trying our best not to laugh. Suddenly, he was smiling with us, the tension over. “Do you have any idea what I could do to you, Dani?” he asked, shaking his hair out and pelting me in a frigid, impromptu shower. “That water’s ridiculously cold.” He grinned evilly and I shrieked, scrambling behind Noah.

Both men laughed and headed for the door. “No worries, Dani. He won’t do it because I’ll repay him tenfold and he knows it.” Noah reached forward and tagged Armen on the shoulder.

The other man shrugged and kept walking, opening the door and ushering us inside. “Some things are worth it.”

“I’ll remember that,” I murmured, slipping past him. His words reminded me of Cain’s similar sentiment. It felt as if he’d uttered the words a lifetime ago instead of little more than two weeks ago. Chin tucked down, I made for the stairs.

“Hey, did I say something wrong? I was just teasing.” From Armen, this was an apology.

“No, you’re fine. I think I’m just going to lie down for a little while, try to catch up on some sleep while I can. Do me a favor and wake me in a couple hours?”

“Fair enough.” Noah slid down in one of the club chairs and folded his hands over his stomach, a single finger tapping restlessly against his still-bare stomach. “We’re going to have to start talking about what to do with the time available to us and how we’re going to stay ahead of this thing.”

And just like that, the butterflies in my stomach were back.

CURLED UP ON MY side, I stared at the overcast, timeless sky that filled the loft with diffused light. Noah’s parting remark rolled around in my head. I don’t know what I’d thought we would do about the Apocrypha and the Key but, somehow, I’d never considered myself a part of the solution. Clearly it was time to stop living under the delusion that life would ever be my version of normal again.

Moving the arm that cushioned my head, my shoulder protested with a loud crack. Aches and pains radiated through muscles unaccustomed to the near-constant adrenaline dumps and physical stresses ever present in my life these days. I rubbed my eyes then pulled the covers higher, making vague promises to myself about dealing with the mess that was my life when I woke up.

I closed my eyes and gave in to the pull of sleep, praying for sanctuary.

“STOP HER FROM SCREAMING, DONNA,” the school’s Regent snapped.

The house monitor, Donna, continued to stare at me in horror as I wailed for the loss of my parents. My chest felt as if it were being crushed and I cried out louder, desperate to convey my heartache to whomever could hear me. Other children fled, chased out by the eerie sounds echoing around the room. Glass began to shatter and the Regent shoved Donna out of the way. She slapped me hard across the cheek once, twice, three times before the shock of her actions stunned me into silence.

“Regent Caroline!” Donna gasped.

“You’re useless under pressure,” she said calmly, looking over her shoulder at the other woman.

I stood holding my swelling cheek, tears slipping down my face and dripping off my chin. She’d hit me before, but never in the face.

Turning her attention back to me, she stared down her patrician nose and narrowed her eyes. “You will be addressed as Dani from this day forward. Ambriel is dead. Do you understand? Dead. And if you ever keen again, use your forsaken powers in any way, I’ll see you sent to the Federal facility before that day is done.”

Rumors of the Federal facility were the bogeymen of the orphanage, the ultimate threat for the worst behavior.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered in a broken voice.

“Let’s make sure that you are. Solitary confinement, one month, half-rations.” She swept from the room like royalty.

Donna silently escorted me to the small, windowless room and locked me in, never once making eye contact with me. That room was where Ambriel had officially died. When I emerged at the end of my confinement, my life as Dani began.

Three days into my stay in Solitary, Regent Caroline died from an unidentified illness that caused her body to systematically shut down over the course of an hour. Ironically, or not, she’d just had her annual physical and passed with flying colors.

No one blamed me, but they didn’t have to. I knew who had killed Regent Caroline.

I had.

I HURTLED INTO CONSCIOUSNESS, the scream lodged in my throat. Old memories flooded me, a bevy of things I’d put away with the intent of never revisiting, let alone reliving. Dreams were like that for me—a reliving of the worst memories.

“Everyone has skeletons. Get over it and move on,” I muttered, berating myself. Flipping the covers to the side, I set my feet on the floor.

“I was trying to decide if I should wake you.”

I squeaked and scrambled backward. Pushing my hair out of my face, I found Armen sitting near the bed, again in the rocker. “What the hell, Armen? Do you stalk all your house guests, or am I just the lucky one?”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You were screaming in your sleep, Dani.”

My stomach plummeted. Shit. “I didn’t hurt you or Noah, did I?” Desperation tinged the words as they tumbled out.

His brow wrinkled. “We’re fine. Why would hearing you scream…ah. Makes sense. Your mother’s a banshee, so she called death. I’m guessing you’ve done the same?”

I took a shuddering breath and nodded. Please, by the Holy, please don’t let me have hurt them. “The person seems to have always heard my voice.” I looked up at him. “I don’t want you to die because you heard me scream.”

“Dani, banshees can’t direct death. They’re only portents.” Leaning forward, he straightened the wadded up bedcover, keeping his eyes averted. “Your father’s the one to fear.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Adrenaline was leaving my system and my shoulders slumped. I glanced at the window behind the bed and saw the glass had cracked. A very detached feeling swept over me. “Armen? How many of the windows in the house did I break?”

He waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. The only real inconvenience is that it’s winter. I’ll get them replaced.”

“How many?” I demanded gently.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “All of them.”

“I’ll pay for the damages.” How? “I have some money saved.”

“Stop it.” His voice was hard and uncompromising. “You’ve got enough going on without worrying about glass, Dani. We can dance around the fact that the Apocalypse is looming, pretend we’ve got all the time in the world to sort out our game plan. But like Noah pointed out, the truth is rather different. We have absolutely no idea when things will begin to go south, and we—you, Noah, and I—need to talk about what we’re going to do. I’ve put in a request to see Michael, but I’m not holding my breath. He’ll show up when he shows up because Malkuth isn’t ready to get involved, not until something they’re anticipating but aren’t disclosing comes into play. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I drew up my knees and laid my forearms across them, burying my face. “I do,” I answered, voice muffled. I rolled my head to the side and looked over at Armen, deciding it was better now than never. “Is there any way I can do something to influence Cain’s decision?”

Armen looked at me carefully and seemed to weigh and measure several responses before he said, “I don’t know. I think we need to go downstairs and get Noah involved in this conversation, though. He’s got the book and it’s his night to cook dinner. We need to make the most of the time, and the daylight, we’ve got.”

“Okay.”

Armen stood and tossed my jeans on the foot of the bed before starting for the stairs. “We’ll have to make plans to get you to one of the malls soon so I can get you some new clothes. You need more than a single pair of jeans and borrowed sweats.”

“You sweet-talker,” I said softly, mostly to myself. Except he heard me.

Stopping halfway down the stairs, he peered through the rungs of the banister at the front of the loft. “You know it.” He winked and disappeared.

The short laugh felt good. I was fast learning that being greedy with happiness was prudent. Grab as much as possible when it passed within reach or else go without. I’d been starved too long to willingly deprive myself.

LUNCH WAS A FAST, light and relatively silent affair. Helping with the dishes gave me a temporary purpose as well as a legitimate reason to stall. The men would undoubtedly soon join me in wishing I wasn’t the Key when they found out I was miserably non-qualified.

Chores done, we all moved to the living room and got comfortable. Armen treated it like a true strategy meeting despite the fact his office supplies were sorely lacking. He spread out a map of the United States on the coffee table and used small marshmallows to denote places we’d been and where there’d been increased demonic activity reported. A spinning globe on a floor stand was pulled closer to his chair for reference, and he asked Noah to take notes. It began to sink in that this was happening, that this was very, very real. Three of us against Sheol.

The guys were discussing starting points when I figured, “What the hell,” and asked a question that had been eating at me. “Armen?”

He paused in his marshmallow placement. “Yeah?”

“Can I ask a couple of questions? They’re about angels and Cain.”

“You can ask, but I won’t promise to answer.” He looked at Noah then back at me. “There are some things that aren’t mine to share, no matter what side he comes down on.”

“I respect that, actually. What I wanted to know was, first, if you’ll teach me more about being an angel.” An unexpected blush crept up my neck and stained my cheeks. “I mean, it’s a silly favor, I guess.” I looked up and the stunned expression on his face made me think I might have overstepped the bounds of our acquaintance. What if you’ve just shown your angelic ass? Worse, what if you just propositioned him somehow? I muttered an expletive and said, “Forget it. I’m sorry. Moving on.”

“No.” Armen’s voice was deep and soft, softer than I’d ever heard it. “I’d be honored, actually.”

I looked up. “Yeah?”

He smiled and I answered with one of my own.

“Okay, then. Can I see your wing? Up close? I don’t really remember much about my dad’s.” I realized both men had gone still. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Noah moved to sit next to me on the sofa. “It’s just that he’s sort of taboo in Malkuth and the bogeyman on Earth. It’s unusual to hear someone refer to him in casual conversation.”

“Don’t think he doesn’t scare the shit out of me. He always did.” I rubbed the back of my neck and pushed the over-long sweatshirt sleeves up for what seemed like the hundredth time. “He was always…intense. We can talk about this later. I’d like to see your wing, Armen.”

“Let’s go outside for a few. Noah?” Armen pushed out of the chair and started for the door.

He grinned and winked at me. “I’ll hang out here and play with the marshmallows.”

Armen flipped Noah off, ushering me outside. We stepped off the porch and he moved a few feet away. “You know how to call them.”

“Yeah. I’m not in control of them, though. They might show up for the party, but they’re like spastic puppies that won’t take direction.”

Armen chuckled. “Yeah. New angels are kind of funny to watch.” Ignoring the nasty look I shot him, he spread his feet and very casually said, “Chayah.” His wing was suddenly there, snapping out with less force than mine did. It was raven black with blue highlights deep within the feathers—a color that echoed the blue of his eyes when they weren’t burning amber.

I watched Armen’s wing stretch to its full width before folding in close to his body as if it were at rest. Why didn’t mine do that? I stepped across the snow to move in a wide arc around him. Armen followed me with his eyes as far as he could, but allowed me to circle behind him. My hands trembled as they reached out, independent of thought.

His wing twitched and his breath caught when the back of my hand made contact with his skin. The point where the wing joined the angel’s back fascinated me. It was the first time I’d seen it that I could remember. Smaller feathers grew in thick lines, gaining in length the farther they were from the body. The arch of the wing was powerful, not nearly as fragile as I’d originally thought. And the flight feathers were simply enormous. Easily five feet long at their longest point, I couldn’t help but ask, “Why are your wings so much larger than mine?”

“We were created for different reasons,” Armen murmured.

“How so?” I asked distractedly, staring at the massive vertical scar where his other wing had been cut away. The ragged tissue, silvery with age, looked hard and knobby.

“I was created solely for war. You? You’re an anomaly, the first angel with absolute free will.” He turned toward me. “It’s part of the theory—about why you’re the Key.”

“Huh.” I stepped back and gave him some room. “If you don’t mind, maybe we can talk later about… I’m not even sure what to ask.” I ran my fingers through my hair, grabbed handfuls and pulled in frustration.

“Hey.” He stepped close and reached for me, dropping his hand when I stepped back. “Look, I’d be glad to help you where I can. I can’t teach you everything, but we can cover a lot.”

I relaxed incrementally. He still made me nervous. Color me jaded, but I was firmly in the camp that said if you abducted someone, you were starting that relationship on the wrong foot. Talk about piss poor first impressions.

“You also wanted to talk about Cain.” His voice was more guarded, but he was making an effort, too. “We might as well do it out here. Noah knows most stuff, but still.” A single shoulder rose and fell in a nearly defensive motion.

“I don’t mind talking out here.” I lifted my face to the clear sky and thought of the demon sitting in the camp chair outside his trailer and soaking up the sun. It felt like it had happened to someone else in a different lifetime. My back itched and I absently scratched at it.

Armen shifted, his feathers ruffling and settling in closer to his body. “What did you want to know about him?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing I can’t answer for myself.” Cain stepped out of the forest, clothes ripped, covered in bruises and bleeding freely from several gashes on his upper body and thighs. “But we’ve got bigger problems.”

Armen turned and faced the other man, arms crossed, feet spread. “You choose then?”

Cain stared hard before he answered, effectively offering the equivalent of a verbal grenade. “Tarron’s been tipped off. He’s on his way here, intent on fulfilling the ESO.” Then Cain took a step closer, pulled the pin and dropped the bomb.

“He’s found a way to summon Samil.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“DANI, GO INSIDE.” ARMEN’S voice was calm, nearly detached.

“No.” Just like it had in the bar, my mouth volunteered a response independent of my mind’s involvement. Shit.

The Fallen looked down at me and arched a brow. “Did you just tell me no?”

“Apparently,” I grumbled, stepping out of his reach.

He shook his head and turned back to Cain, who was smiling. “She’s always been a little, hm, difficult.” Cain stepped closer and Armen stepped slightly in front of me.

“Look,” I said in a granite voice I hardly recognized as my own, “we don’t have time to argue about whether I should stay or go, or whether I sit or stand when I get there.” My arms snaked around my middle and focused on slow, deep breaths. “When will he be here, Cain?” Just saying his name ripped at me in ways I refused to examine too closely.

He looked me over carefully despite one eye being swollen nearly shut. “If my sources can be trusted, I’m guessing tomorrow by noon. He’s got at least three lesser demons with him and doesn’t want to risk losing them by dematerializing to get here faster. They tend to get lost in translation between the realms.” He smiled wickedly. “It isn’t pretty.”

“Three plus Tarron and…” I hesitated, sinking to my knees. Despite it all, I couldn’t lump Cain in with the group of Hunters headed our way. “We’re fucked.”

Armen squatted next to me. “Go get Noah. Now.”

“Am I no longer welcome in your home?” Cain’s voice was low, emotionless.

Armen never looked away from me when he answered. “I can’t risk her.”

“Don’t lose a friend over this, Armen. They’re rare and precious and…please.” I swiped angrily at the tears that threatened to expose me as the wreck I was quickly becoming. Female emotions should seriously require a license to operate and come with a mentor and an extended training period before a person was allowed to operate them individually.

Armen stood and offered me a hand.

“She won’t take your hand.” Cain’s voice was even lower than before. “She can’t.”

My breath caught in my chest and I looked at him. “Don’t pretend to know me, Cain.”

“That’s the hard part, angel. I don’t have to pretend.” He stepped closer, watching me carefully. He was heavily guarded and not a single, familiar tell slipped through.

Armen rose, spreading his feet and shaking his hands out. “I need to know where you stand, Cain. You can’t just come up to the house, offer intel and have me believe it’s a gesture of good will. You’re still a threat, and one unexplained good deed doesn’t change that. It just doesn’t fly, my friend.”

Cain’s eyes tightened. “You’re so sure we’re friends, but you can’t practice trust.” He looked over at me. “And you’re so sure we’re not, but you preach compassion. Talk about mixed messages, and me without my friendship decoder ring. Leaves me at a distinct disadvantage.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he spun around and started back into the forest.

“Hey.” Armen took a few steps after him.

“It’s fine,” he answered, never breaking his stride.

“Cain!” I called his name. It rang out over the snow, the attached wordless plea exaggerated by the dry, still air.

He paused and partially turned, offering only his battered profile. “Don’t you dare plead with me, Dani. Not now.” The skin I could see of his face was pale and drawn, the bruises standing out in stark relief.

Rising, I started toward him. Armen grabbed my arm and I yanked on his iron hold. “Let me go. Now.” My eyes began to burn and his answered.

“Not happening. You think you know what he can be like.” Pain washed over his face and he turned his face away but kept his grip tight. “Wanting your own version of reality doesn’t change what actually is.”

I looked back and forth between the demon and the Fallen. “Don’t do this.” I’m not sure who I addressed—Cain, Armen, the Holy, or anyone else who might have some influence over the moment. I’d take help from wherever I could get it. I met Cain’s gaze, fought to see in him the man I thought I’d briefly known. “Stay.”

Armen’s hand tightened.

“She’s right, Cain.” Startling us, Noah stepped off the porch. “You should stay tonight. Let me look at your wounds, eat something, whatever.” He reached Armen’s side and laid his hand on the Fallen’s corded forearm. “You’ve got to find a little faith.”

Armen’s breath came in harsh pants and his grip was bruising. “I know.” He looked at Cain and just as he was about to speak, I whimpered.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Screw bruising, I was afraid he was going to break my arm.

Cain took two large steps toward us, his eyes on me. “Dani?”

I held up a hand to stop him. “I’m good. Armen’s just a little stressed.”

Armen let me go, whipping his hand back like my skin was caustic. “Sorry.” Balling his hands into fists, he turned back to the house. “Don’t make me regret this,” he murmured.

The words might have been low, but Cain heard them. He lifted his chin a fraction, and set his jaw, his eyes drilling holes in the back of the Fallen’s skull. “You know I won’t.”

Armen kept walking and whispered, “I don’t know anything anymore.”

“Dinner’s on in thirty,” Noah said quietly, eyes on mine. He inclined his head toward the demon before he turned and followed Armen into the house, leaving me with a sullen demon who harbored guarded motivations, divided desires and a questionable conscience.

Maybe Noah was the real danger in all of this.

CAIN STARTED TOWARD ME and I fought the urge to flee. My back itched. While it wasn’t horrible, it was enough to make me squirm. I slapped a hand on my shoulder blade and scratched, though I knew it wouldn’t really help. I’d have to shift or the danger would have to dissipate before the feeling went away. That thought stopped my every motion.

“You’re the reason my back’s been itching.” My hand fell away from my shoulder and I stood there numb with understanding. Snapshots from the last few weeks flashed through my mind like a high-speed revelatory slideshow—in the stables the day I’d saved the boy, in Khavien’s office, on the parking deck, in the hotel with him, when he’d left yesterday. Now. But there were also snapshots that didn’t fit—in the car on the way to the city, the hit-and-run, at the hotel when he’d saved me from Tarron, when he’d chained me to the bed. I shook my head, trying to clear it. “From the very beginning, it’s been you.”

“Yeah.” His voice was calm, non-threatening. “I thought you knew. So you didn’t realize your wings would react when there’s a threat?”

Instead of answering him and confirming my ignorance, I asked, “Did my evolution occur because of you?”

A small look of surprise widened his eyes. “Maybe.”

I backed toward the porch and he advanced, matching me step for step. “Why are you back, Cain? To execute the ESO?”

He hesitated, slowed, then stopped. “I don’t know.” His closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sun in the same gesture I’d remembered moments before he stepped out of the forest. “I just don’t know, Dani.”

My mind frantically raced, trying to find a way to buy some time for both of us, all of us. I nearly tripped over a possible answer. “Tarron gets here tomorrow? By noon you said.”

Tilting his head forward, he opened impassive eyes. “Yeah.”

“So if we call a truce until, say, nine tomorrow morning, you’re not out anything, right?” Please, please, please let him agree.

He lifted a single shoulder indifferently. “If he gets here earlier—”

“We’ll deal with that if it happens. Truce?” I took a step toward him, my back going nuts, the butterflies in my stomach taking up radical maneuvers and my sense of self-preservation screaming at me to run. I ignored it all.

He moved toward me one step and a small smile teased one corner of his mouth. “I’d offer to shake on it but we both know that’s not a good idea.”

My answering smile was tremulous. “Not a good idea at all.” A fine shudder raced like wildfire through my body and I clenched my teeth, trying to keep my lips from trembling.

Cain considered me, searching my face and blinking slowly. “Until tomorrow morning, then. I give you—all of you—my word that I won’t act on the ESO until tomorrow, one way or another.”

The relief was overwhelming. I started to turn toward the house when an impossibly hot hand wrapped around the bruised area outlining Armen’s earlier grip. A hiss of pain escaped, despite my best effort to control my reaction. “Was that necessary?” I asked through gritted teeth.

The heat of Cain’s body slid up against me, his other arm wrapping around me as he settled his free hand around my neck. He tightened his grip enough that I could feel my pulse thundering against his fingertips. “It’s a reminder, Ambriel Danitheus Phael. I use every resource available to me in a fight, from pain…to pleasure.” Languid heat coursed through me, drowning out the fear.

“We’re not fighting.” My words carried to him on a single breath. My fingers twitched with the urge to claw at him, to get him off me. At the same time, my hands fisted to keep from accidentally touching my palms to his bare skin. A push of lust from him drowned out both instincts, made me rub my thighs together.

“No. We’re not.” He briefly tightened his hands then let me go. “Let’s go.”

As far as warnings went, it was effective.

I OPENED THE DOOR with shaking hands. Shucking my wet tennis shoes into the mud tray, I listened for Cain to do the same with his boots as he followed me in. Armen sat in his club chair, his feet on the coffee table. The map and marshmallows had been put away. A tall glass of bourbon balanced carefully on his knee, ice cubes clinking against the glass when he picked it up and took in a healthy swallow. He looked us over, missing nothing. When his gaze found mine, I dipped my head casually. He returned the gesture and stood. “Something to drink, Cain?”

The demon moved past me and sat not in the companion chair but across from Armen on the sofa. “Whatever you’re having.”

“You don’t like Jim Beam,” Armen snapped.

“Why’d you bother asking if you already know what my preferences are?” Cain retorted. “If this is what I can expect for the next sixteen hours, I’ll pass.” He stood and started for the door.

I shot Armen a harsh glare and stepped in front of Cain. “Look. We’re all on edge. Let’s give it a chance before we turn on each other like rabid chipmunks.”

“Rabid chipmunks?” Cain fought a smile.

“It was the first thing that came to mind out here in the land of Dudley Do Right.” I shrugged. “Work with me.”

He grinned and shook his head. “I’ll take a glass of Prichard’s Crystal.”

“When I figure out what and where it is, I’ll make it happen.” I turned to Noah. “A little help?”

The Watcher grinned and gestured to the pantry. “We keep it in the pantry because Cain’s the only one with a taste for the stuff neat, and we rarely mix drinks around here.”

I followed him into the pantry and left Cain and Armen in the living area alone.

“Good girl,” Noah said so softly I was forced to lean in to hear him. “We’ve got to remind them who they are to each other.”

“And who, exactly, are they to each other?” I asked, mimicking his volume.

“They’re friends, Dani. They’re the only friend the other has had for more than two thousand years.” Noah touched my cheek with profound tenderness. “You’ve known loneliness, too. I need you to help me remind them that they don’t have to live this way. It takes faith to reach out—just as much as it takes faith to reach back.”

“Okay.” To have someone like that, someone who saw you, loved you beyond reason, someone who would make life richer just for knowing him. No amount of money could touch the value that held for me, and I coveted what these three had together, no matter the hurt. “Okay.”

Noah hugged me. “It will be a good reminder for everyone.” Picking up the bottle, he started for the door, hesitated, then looked back. “No matter what, Dani, remember that faith never abandons hope, particularly in its darkest hour.”

Before I could respond, he was out the door and back into the kitchen, setting the bottle down. It took a second for me to get it together and follow him out. I’d pour the demon a glass of expensive rum with the subdued hope that I could figure out how to do what Noah had asked. I grabbed a glass out of the cabinet and called over my shoulder, “Ice or no ice?”

“Ice. Nothing else.” Cain strolled into the kitchen.

I chanced a look and was surprised. His cuts and bruises looked much worse under the kitchen’s bright white recessed lighting. The eye that was nearly swollen shut was a bloody mess, ruptured blood vessels marring the normal white. One cheek and both lips were split. His nose had clearly been cracked, though I was sure it would heal straight. A deep cut ran front-to-back through the muscle above his collar bone as if someone had brought a large knife down in an attempt to behead him. More bruises rained over his exposed skin and glimpses of others, partially hidden by his torn shirt and ripped pants, could be seen when he moved. Another deep cut ran across his belly.

“Do I pass?” His quiet voice startled me.

“Pass?” I looked up stupidly.

He eyed the glass of rum and reached for it with exaggerated slowness.

I stepped back and gave him plenty of room to pick it up without any risk of our hands touching. Picking up the bottle, I mumbled, “I’m going to put this back in the pantry.”

He smiled, clearly amused at my nervousness. “You do that.” Turning to Noah he asked, “Want me to set the table for dinner?”

I stood in the pantry for a few minutes, trying to get my bearings. Set the table? He acted as if this was just another night, like it was totally normal for him to wander the woods and randomly stop by for dinner after having had the shit beat out of him. I thumped my head against the nearest shelf before grabbing a new package of paper towels. They’d serve as a sufficient explanation for my extended absence. Unwrapping it, I carried the roll to the edge of the sink with purpose, ignoring the fact that a nearly new roll had been placed on the dispenser. If anyone noticed, they didn’t question me.

Cain moved around the table and set out dishes, making several trips back and forth from the kitchen to the table as he helped with dinner’s final preparations. The two men chatted as Cain put together a salad and Noah stirred broth into the risotto. It seemed as if they were each comfortable slipping into the familiar friendship that existed outside of their individual relationships with Armen.

Keeping an eye on the kitchen, I went to the living room and sat down on the coffee table in front of Armen. He moved his feet aside and I scooted closer. “You alright?” I kept my voice low but allowed the sincerity of my concern to weave through the words.

Dark blue eyes watched me intently before he closed them and laid his head against the back of the chair without speaking.

I wasn’t offended. Sometimes, when things hurt so bad, there weren’t words. I stood, intent on going back to the kitchen and finding some way to help, but Armen’s hand shot out and touched my knee. Nothing else about the Fallen had moved but his arm. His hand rested, unmoving, light as a finch’s touch. He didn’t ask me to stay, but he didn’t need to. Because when someone understands that kind of hurt? They just get it. I sat back down and watched Armen open his eyes, search my face and barely shake his head.

“It’s like a death.”

Emotion, devastating and raw and fierce, clogged my throat. “Yeah.”

Armen set his glass on the end table and stood, ran a hand down the back of my head and moved away. Grabbing his jacket, he stepped into his boots and went outside without a word. Seconds later his lighter flared, illuminating his face as he lit a cigarette. He moved out of view.

Sympathy rained down my face and I gently swept away its evidence.

Noah sat next to me, dropping an arm around my shoulders.

A short sob broke free and I pressed the heel of my hands to my lips.

“Hey.” The Watcher turned my chin toward him and kissed my forehead. “You’re grieving over a lot of maybes and a handful of what ifs, Dani. It’s wasted emotion.”

I leaned forward and laid my forehead on his shoulder, pulling the sleeves of the sweatshirt down and wrapping my hands in the extra length. “When did you get so smart?”

“Living with him for two thousand years has given me the time and motivation to hone a few brain cells.”

“Dani?” Cain’s low baritone cut through emotion’s private, fragile cocoon.

I looked up and bit my lip, fighting the maybes and what ifs that threatened to drag me down again.

“Do you want me to go? It might be easier.” He looked over his shoulder. “On everyone.”

He’d said faith never abandons hope in its darkest hour, I thought, and then he’d asked me to have faith. Given that it was pretty damn dark at the moment, it seemed like now was as good a time as any to put the theory to the test. “Stay.” I met Cain’s unsure gaze and shored up my hope. “Please.”

The demon snorted. “That damned word. It’s worked in times nearly as bad as these. I might as well keep my batting average perfect.”

“Something I missed?” Noah looked between Cain and me.

Cain started to speak but I interrupted him. “Yeah, but this is between us.” I chanced a small smile.

Cain watched me, undoubtedly searching for my motivation, but sincere hope has few, if any, ulterior motives. He smiled back—barely, but it counted. “What she said.” He glanced back at the glow of a cigarette tip I could see through the kitchen window.

“Cain?”

He turned his attention to me at the same time Noah tightened his arm infinitesimally.

“Dinner will wait.” A faint blush stole up my cheeks. “If, you know, you wanted to…” I gestured to the porch with my covered hand, looking away to give him what privacy I could without leaving the room.

“Yeah. Look, if this goes poorly, I’ll just fade out and find somewhere to spend the night.” He shifted back and forth. “Fuck.” Sitting on the sofa, he let his face fall into his hands and threaded long fingers through his hair. “I shouldn’t have stayed. I’ll just—”

“Do the right thing.” I’m not sure which of the three of us was more surprised at my outburst. Empowered, I twisted around to look at him. “You’ll do the right thing, Cain. He means too much to you to just throw it, throw him, away.”

“Eternity’s a long time to—”

“Regret making the wrong decision. So don’t.”

“I’d love to finish my own thoughts,” he snarled.

“Then say something intelligent and I won’t be forced to interrupt you so frequently.” I stood and leaned over him. “Do the right thing, Cain. It’s as close to a do-over as you’ll ever get.”

“Right. And what’s in this for you?” He tapped his chin in mocking thoughtfulness. “Oh! That’s right. You don’t get delivered to Sheol. Don’t pretend you’re selfless in your push to see Armen and I set to rights.”

I gasped at the verbal blow at the same time Noah stood up.

Cain followed suit.

Stepping back, I watched as Noah pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and dug through it. He fished out a small silver square and flicked it at Cain in a single, deft movement.

The demon instinctively snatched it out of the air at the same time Noah sat back down. He turned the foil packet around in his fingers and looked down at the Watcher in confusion. “I’m, um, not exactly sure how a condom fits into the conversation.”

Noah looked at him, his expression bland. “If you’re going to act like a dick, you should at least be prepared. Go ahead.” He waved a lazy hand. “Slip it over your tongue and make sure you’re safe before you re-enter this particular conversation.”

Cain gaped at him, his mouth working wordlessly.

I didn’t have that problem. Laughter welled up in me and it was only seconds later that I was holding my sides as I laughed so hard I cried.

“Fuck you, Noah,” Cain snapped.

“Sorry, dude. There was only one condom.” Noah grinned, flinching as the demon reached out and punched him in the shoulder. “Go talk to him, Cain.”

When the door snicked shut seconds later, Noah stood up and took my elbow. “You did really well, Dani. I was proud of you.”

“Me?” I sputtered. “You were brilliant.” Trying to keep from staring out the window at the two dark forms I could see on the porch, I went to the table to help cover the food while we waited.

“You knew when to let your vulnerability show and when to push back. I think you know him better than you think you do, to his serious detriment.” Noah moved around the kitchen, never even peeking at the men.

“Why to his detriment?” I picked up my glass of tea and took a sip.

“Cain has been alone for the majority of his life.” The Watcher weighed his words shrewdly as he watched for my reactions. “Short of the friendship he’s had with Armen and, to a certain extent, me, he’s never had anyone to believe in him, expect the right things from him. Now he’s got you.”

I choked, setting my glass down hard enough to slosh tea over the edge. “No. Oh, no, Noah. He doesn’t have me.” Storming to the kitchen, I grabbed the new roll of paper towels I’d set out and carried them back to the table, cleaning up the mess with sharp, jerky movements. “There’s nothing there, between us. He despises me, and I’m none too fond of him. Don’t delude yourself.”

Noah laughed out loud. “Deluding myself, am I?” He walked up to me and laid his hands on my shoulders, patiently waiting until I met his eyes. “Remember you said that. And remember we all make the decisions that define who we are in a way that is louder and more permanent than words, ours or others’, ever will. In the end, we leave a legacy of choices. No matter what else might happen, I want you to remember this conversation.”

“What do you mean, whatever else might happen—” The door opened and interrupted me.

Noah and I shifted to stand together and face the consequences that crossed the threshold.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

DINNER WAS A SILENT affair punctuated with the sounds of silverware on dishes and subdued requests to pass the whatever. Each of us was lost in our own world, aware of—and indifferent to—our table neighbors. Tension was in season. The men jumped at every small sound, hands making instinctive false starts for weapons they didn’t have. I wanted to scream. Spending my last evening here as a veritable hostage made me a little crazy, and ideas involving grand escape swirled through my mind in an epic display of impossibility. There was no way I’d get farther than the front door before a predicted two out of three men took me down like wolves on a wounded moose.

Noah got up to make a pot of coffee while the rest of us sat silently staring at our plates. He came back with a pecan pie, the sound of the coffee maker hissing behind him and the rich scent of freshly ground beans dogging his heels. We were the most dysfunctional group I could have imagined. The fact that we were responsible, individually and collectively, for varying aspects of the Apocalypse left me reeling. No small part of that was personal denial.

I’m the Key. I tried it out several times, each with varying inflection. It didn’t matter. As much as I believed they were right, that the Apocrypha was accurate, I couldn’t place that level of importance on my own existence. I’d been nobody for so long. My stomach clenched at the same time Noah handed me a piece of pie. I accepted it with shaking hands that tattled on my internal state of affairs.

“You want whipped cream?”

I stared up at him, speechless. Whipped cream? The Hunters would be here for me tomorrow and he wanted to know if I wanted whipped cream? It was my breaking point. The pie plate clattered to the table and I pushed away from the edge and stood without ever looking away from him.

Noah set the whipped cream can down and watched me with shrewd eyes. A finite nod seemed to offer his blessing, cutting loose the invisible tethers that bound me to the moment.

I headed for the front door. The image of the wounded moose was there, waiting for the sound of predators stalking me. I didn’t look back as I shoved my feet in my damp tennis shoes and grabbed an enormous jacket off a peg. It smelled like smoke. Armen’s, then. I stepped outside and sucked in a lungful of dark, dry, killing cold. The moment was liberating, feeding a part of me I hadn’t realized was hungry.

The temperature had crashed as night fell. I had no idea how cold it really was, but if the thermometer had a reading that said “Witches: Protect Your Tits,” the mercury would be firmly settled there. The neck of the coat was large, hanging loose despite being zipped up all the way, and cold air crept in uninvited. Too bad. I wasn’t going back inside for a scarf. Taking the steps carefully—last thing I needed was to bust my ass with an audience more inclined to offer score cards than assistance—I made my way to the yard.

The sounds of the night were almost nonexistent. A large owl hooted sporadically and the trees seemed to sigh when the wind brushed their tips. The night sky appeared never-ending in breadth and depth, a rich blue-black. Falling stars swept across the sky in brilliant death, prevalent enough to give me the hope that just one of them was a wish granter. All I’d have to do was make the same wish over and over until I hit on the right one. I tilted my chin back and watched the stars, tracing those wishes across the sky.

“Just one,” I whispered. “All I need is one.”

My wish would change everything—turn back time and make me someone else’s child, help me grow up wanted and secure, have me make different decisions that wouldn’t lead me to the Fair. These were suggestions. I’d settle for anything that would change a past that had been set in stone long before I’d been born.

The flare of a bright star refocused me, its dying trail slightly sobering. What a brilliant way to go, I thought, leaving an indelible mark that’s yours and yours alone.

My subconscious leaned in, a velvet weight on a heavy mind. Isn’t that part of what being the Key offers you? See it for its opportunities as well as for its obligations.

That’s selfish, I argued with myself. The purpose of the Key, even in the stories, is that it’s a selfless choice between right and wrong.

Define right and wrong. If it’s a matter of what’s right for you, who’s to say it’s wrong at all?

Damn subconscious. It was a good thing I had a conscience to counter its influence, because the dark, seductive words were tempting. What it comes down to is what’s right for the good of the world, not what’s right for me. I only wish I knew what that meant—“the good of the world.” How was I supposed to know? I couldn’t know the pros and cons for every single soul if I swung toward one side’s machinations over the other. Bottom line? It’s not about me. So crawl back into your deep, dark hole and entertain yourself with some other part of my psyche. Selfishness can’t be part of this, not in any form. Silence met my admonishment and I was pleased, in a sick way, that I’d won an argument with a darker side of myself I hadn’t known well, or really at all, until lately.

A strange sense of reconnection occurred in me somewhere between self and soul. The desire to wish away my reality and hand over the weight of the choices I would have to make if I survived passed in hushed quietude, taking with it the urge to wait for the right wishing star.

I chanced a look back at the house and wasn’t surprised to see that Cain had moved to take my seat at the table and that Armen had turned his chair to face the door. This gave every one of them equal opportunity to watch me. Rationally, it made sense. Not all my mind worked on that rational level, though. More’s the pity.

I walked through the yard, snow still deep enough it was halfway up my shins. If my feet had been perpetually cold in Iowa, they constantly bordered frostbite here. The snow had crusted over with an ice film so every step I took through the yard was punctuated with exaggerated, brittle sounds. I didn’t go far. The wounded moose/hungry wolf image was too fresh to encourage me to attempt a wilderness prison break. I snorted and the inside of my nose froze. Holy crap. Tucking my face inside the neck of the jacket, I took a few warm, damp breaths to try and temporarily thaw things out. It didn’t really matter if it worked. I was so absolutely enamored with the duality of the silence and my privacy that I would have suffered hypothermia had they left me alone long enough.

Of course, they didn’t.

Loud, insulated voices announced raised emotions inside, and I doubted it was a rousing version of Kumbayah. No, those three weren’t in harmony about anything. The argument was brief and harsh, punctuated by a weighted silence so abrupt it was if the vocal cords of each man had been severed simultaneously. Given that it could have happened just like that, that they were each capable of violence against the others in the right situation, I almost checked on them, but I stopped myself. They were adults. They might be men and suffering reduced mental capacity due to overwhelming testosterone surges, but that wasn’t my problem. Not until tomorrow anyway.

The sound of booted feet echoed on porch planks and announced that whoever had come outside wanted to ensure I knew he was there.

“Here.” Cain issued the word like a command.

I turned with decided leisure, unwilling to allow him to tarnish the realignment of self and soul I’d just experienced. “Here what?”

He held a scarf in one hand and a pair of men’s boots in the other. “You’re already starting to shiver. Noah said you need these.”

“Why didn’t he bring them then?” Cain growled; I grinned. “That was the argument. You drew the short straw, did you?”

“He used fucking spaghetti noodles,” Cain groused. “We’re not five.”

“Were you ever?” Burning curiosity overrode common sense. The question was out before I could weigh the consequence of testing him when he was already on edge.

The demon’s eyes flared a brighter orange and it was clear the decision had been a bad one. He held out both hands and dropped the items.

I watched the scarf slither down the steps like a serpent. It paused at a rough spot on a step’s edge before the weighted length below pulled the tail forward and it pooled casually in the snow. I shivered.

“Take them or don’t. Just don’t freeze to death. It’s a stupid way to die.” He turned to go back into the house.

“As opposed to sitting around and waiting for you to choose your preferred manner? That’s a better option than this? At least I could say I chose this.” I took a step toward him when he paused, amazed I’d found my feet, and my bearings, with him now of all times. Talk about bad timing, I thought.

My subconscious sighed. Take what you can get.

The problem was the bitch was right. I took another step forward…then another…and suddenly I was walking toward him. “Answer me. I think you owe me that.”

“You going princess on me finally?” His hands fisted on his hips, his head tilting to one side. It wasn’t hard to imagine the flame of Sheol’s fires in his eyes.

“So you’ll insult me as a means of avoiding answering the hard questions? I expected better of you.” I tsked him just as he’d done me on several occasions. “Copping to the easy out seems to be your M.O. What a disappointment.”

“What did you just say?”

“Your hearing’s just fine. It’s your ethics that are in question here. Don’t confuse the issues.” I’d made it to the stairs and bent to sweep up the scarf. “Toss the boots down here.”

“I’m not your bitch or your bellboy.”

“No, you save that service for the highest bidder.”

The boots sailed by my head. I retrieved them and managed to pull off my shoes and shove my feet in the sloppy-big boots without falling. “Go back inside, Cain. I don’t want you here any more than you want to be here. Spare us both the heartache and just go.” The last word hung between us, a painful reminder to me that it was the one thing I could count on him to do—leave. In the end, Cain wouldn’t stick. And right now? I needed people I could count on to stick. True, Armen was contracted to stay. But if I intended to survive, I’d have to learn to accept that loyalty sometimes came with terms and conditions. And Noah? I wasn’t sure, but I thought he was part of the plan somehow.

I lifted my chin and stared into a darkness only relieved by orange eyes. “Go.” I managed the word with more finality. Then I took my own advice. I left.

Trudging through snow in boots that were several sizes too large was neither fun nor effective for making a great escape. I couldn’t pick my feet up but instead had to sort of kick my way across the yard. It was dense and difficult and I didn’t care. I cursed myself for allowing him to rile me. I cursed him for being so predictable. I cursed myself for not telling him to leave when I had the chance. I cursed him for not insisting. I cursed myself for…oh, son of a bitch. I cursed myself for caring. I truly cared about Cain.

I stumbled, my arms flailing wildly as I worked to regain my balance. Breathing hard, the cold slicing through my lungs with near criminal intent, I dropped my hands to my knees and bent forward. Of all the self-revelations to uncover. Holy hell. This was bad. Bad. Really bad. I couldn’t care about him. I couldn’t.

The sudden itch of my back coincided quite nicely with the face plant I did into the snow. It wasn’t voluntary. Something with the strength of a runaway train plowed into me, knocking me out of my boots as it drove me into the ground. I’d made it to the edge of the forest and had that brief fear it was a predator. Sad thing was, I was right. It just wasn’t the one I had anticipated, though it was definitely the one I should have feared.

Cain rolled me over and forced my arms above my head. Straddling my lower torso, he pressed me deeper into the snow. He leaned over me, his hair swept to one side, his eyes a blaze of fury.

Snow that had been shoved down my loose collar began to melt and run in cold rivulets that pooled behind my neck and shoulders, and I shivered.

“You think it’s that easy, do you? That I sit around waiting for the highest bidder to come in? That I have a choice about whether or not to take every job that’s ‘offered?’” His sneer was a vicious slash across his battered face.

“You’ve said as much.” I tested his grip on my arms and his hands tightened. “I don’t want to believe it, Cain.” He arched a midnight brow and I snapped, “I don’t! But you give me so little room to negotiate the facts, even when I argue with myself.” Noah’s words echoed through my mind—that I might know Cain to his detriment. Faith, I thought, and I stepped out blindly. “I miss the man you were when I met you.”

It might have been dark, but it was impossible to miss the pallor his face took on. “You don’t get it, angel.” He struggled to find the words and, when they came, I wished he’d never spoken. “You saw and heard what I wanted you to see and hear. Millennia of conditioning in brutality and violence will kill the kindness in anyone, but when someone had so little to spare in the beginning?” He huffed out a breath. “It’s only a matter of time before the weaker personality is lost. I’ll never be that man again.”

“You could, though.” The words were weighted with sincerity. “You’ve admitted that person could have existed. Choose him, Cain. Make that your reality. I want the man who comforted me and brushed my hair that night.”

He watched me with eyes that burned. When he leaned closer, the anger I saw scared me. “He doesn’t exist. That’s the man that I might have been had things ended differently. This? This is the man I’ve unquestioningly become. You’re blind to reality, Dani. I’ll give you that every person has both light and dark in them, but don’t presume to know me just because you saw a finite, weak part of me that you felt you could bond with or, even worse, tame. That’s not me. It was a cover persona that allowed me to fit in.” His hands tightened even further. “You don’t know shit about me.” He pushed off me and stood, a vision of both rage and indifference. “And don’t you dare lie there and pretend to get my motivations when I’m only just figuring them out myself. It’s an insult to both of us.”

My feet were absolutely frozen and I struggled with the too-large jacket and floppy boots, barely making it to my feet. When I got there, I was pissed as hell, driven by an emotional anger I wasn’t brave enough to evaluate just yet. Instead, I fought back. “You’re a walking, talking contradiction. You can’t claim to have both light and dark in you and then tell me you ‘let’ me see one side! It means they’re both there and you choose—you choose—which part you’re going to cleave to. It may be a daily choice, an hourly choice, even a minute-by-minute choice, but it’s still a fucking choice.” I stumbled as I moved a single step closer to him. “Don’t come out here and tell me it’s impossible. It’s not. That’s just a convenient excuse.”

He mimicked me, moving a step closer, driven by his own anger, puffs of hot breath condensing on the air in angry bursts. “You ignorant fool,” he hissed. “You follow your notions of right and wrong, clinging to your ideals as if they’ll save you when the world turns its back—when Malkuth turns its back—on you. They both need you right now. What will you do when they don’t? Because that day’s coming.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t make this about something it’s not.” I ran a trembling hand over my face, pushing wet strands of hair aside. “This is about now, the choices we’ll make that define who we are now.”

He took another step toward me. “Choices, is it? So what should I have done, Dani? Huh? Do you think things might have been different if I’d chosen to skip through Sheol and propose poker night to promote inter-species bonding? You think things might have been different if I’d talked to Lucifer about alternate career paths because I wasn’t happy? You think I can change things now because it’s not what I want?” He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s like you live in a bubble. I saw where you came from, Dani. I. Saw. You can’t stand there and tell me your life was perfect. You lived in a pop can on wheels. You shoveled shit in an environment that encouraged people to gawk at you. You didn’t have friends. Your boss sold you out to save his own ass. And now you’re out here straddling the Canadian border with two men who kidnapped you, and you think they’re your friends. Malkuth is willing to hedge its bets with a Fallen, but what have they offered you? Hell, have they even been to see you, to offer you something to choose their side? No. So go ahead and lie to me, tell me your life wasn’t, isn’t, total crap simply because you didn’t and don’t want it to be.” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. “You just never saw it.”

His words crashed into me with an emotional violence I hadn’t known existed. I struggled to gather the breath to say, “Every time you open your mouth, I think I like you a little less.”

His face was a cold mask of indifference, too schooled to be genuine. Still, he said, “Aw. That hurts.”

I nodded, the movement tiny. “Good.” I cleared my throat once, twice. “It should.”

Cain’s eyes narrowed and his brows drew together as he considered me. The confusion faded to a strange, controlled look. “I’ll tell you what. You’re not sure you like me? Let me help you make up your mind.” He stepped in to me and grabbed the ends of my coat sleeves, transferring them to one hand before gripping them shut. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin the moment,” he murmured. His head dipped toward me as his other hand slipped around the back of my neck, fingers languidly sliding into my hair to grip my skull. “This should make your decision easier.”

I wondered briefly if a person could drown in their own confusion. “Cain,” I choked out.

“Shut up, angel.” His lips met mine in a soft caress, their warmth shocking and inviting. They moved with deceptive carelessness. Fingers tightened in my hair and I followed the pressure to tilt my head and give him easier access. His hot breath branded my skin as he moved away from my lips, the tip of his nose trailing up my jaw. Soft lips planted in the tiny depression under my earlobe then lifted to breathe, “Let’s see how well you play the game.”

“Game?” I croaked.

“Game,” he confirmed.

A flash of pure lust shot through my belly when the tip of his tongue traced the edge of my ear, brief then gone, leaving with a parting nip. He dropped to my neck, pulling his hand out of my hair to move the loose curls aside and afford him easier access. Soft kisses trailed his every move.

I shook but I wasn’t cold. Tremors raced from fine to full blown with nothing more than a change in his approach, the tilt of his head, the pressure of his lips.

Cain leaned forward, nuzzled the long muscle behind my jugular. Then he bit me.

I gasped and went rigid in his arms.

His tongue traced circles on the captured skin. Pulling back, he breathed on the moist area and the cold was electric on the exposed skin. More soft kisses mapped his return to my ear and he paused there, breathing harder. “Game on.”

The demon shoved his hand into my hair and gripped it, yanking my head back and bending me to his pleasure as he met my lips with predatory intent. His fierce dominance overwhelmed me. I couldn’t think. I could respond only when he made me respond. I could go only where he led me. I could only be. I was what he made me in that moment.

He traced the seam of my lips and I opened to him with a whimper. Cain’s answering growl punctuated my moan as the aggression evolved into raw need. I kissed him back, falling into the rhythm of his mouth and the feel of his body and the heat of the moment. Lust spread through me like the wind rips across the plains—all-encompassing, everywhere, gathering up anything loose and dislodging it, owning it and directing it at its discretion. Cain lifted away from me without warning and the cold shock to my wet lips forced me to open unfocused eyes.

His own were living flames. “Don’t ever dismiss me out of hand again. And don’t ever presume to know what I’m capable of, Dani. Ever.”

Without warning, he let me go and I tumbled to the snow. He turned and stalked toward the house, never looking back.

I made my way to my knees and raised a hand to my lips, pressing them hard. My thundering heart quieted with every step he took away from me and I couldn’t help but breathe his name.

His step never faltered.

Bending forward, I folded myself around the inexplicable pain that choked me, squeezing my heart and lungs so they worked harder just to exist. A small part of me couldn’t hold on and it slipped away, coming to rest in the snow. I looked at it with a clarity I’d never had before.

It was the last of my innocence, and I watched it die.

THE TRIP BACK TO the cabin was surreal. An hour ago its windows would have been a beacon that promised my despair respite, but Cain had changed everything, drawn into question everything I thought I knew. Nothing was sacred any longer, and I was no longer sure I could trust the warm light that called me back.

With my reality so skewed, time lacked any concrete meaning. I counted my steps, desperate to assign my vacuous mind a responsibility. Count the steps back to warmth. Don’t think about…anything. I moved ahead, stumbling near the steps and going down to my hands and knees. My head hung low. Holy, I hurt. Prayer or damnation, I wasn’t sure.

“Oh, Dani.” Strong arms tried to help me stand and I swung out wildly.

“No!” I looked up, slightly crazed. “Don’t fucking help me!”

Noah’s face was so raw, his expression so pained. “It’s all part of the choices we make.”

“Don’t you dare talk to me of choices,” I whispered, my breath harsh, the sharp consonants punctuated by my breath condensing on the air. “Never again.”

“I can’t make that promise.”

“Then don’t speak to me.” I nearly recoiled at the venom in my words but the death of innocence left me hardened in an ugly way.

I made it up the steps and shed the borrowed clothes as I made my way to the stairs. The loft was my only refuge in the entire world and I would claim it tonight before finding my own way tomorrow. My survival equaled my responsibility.

“Dani?” Armen couldn’t hide the concern in his voice. “What happened?”

“Leave it alone, Armen.” The words were flat, and a fragment of my mind knew they lacked the hostility I’d shown Noah.

The demon stood near the fireplace, hands in his pockets. The silence between us bled.

I had to move by him to get to the foot of the stairs. Drawing level with him, I swear I had an out of body experience. It was with total disinterest I watched my balled up fist connect with his surprised face, plowing into the more damaged of his two eyes and smashing his head into the mantle. Shaking out my fist, I moved on wordlessly.

The near immediate sound of breaking glass and grunts, fists on flesh and volleyed curses told me Armen and Cain were at it again. I looked down. Noah stood at the threshold and watched me, his eyes that fluid, impossible gold. For the first time, the peacekeeper of the group let violence rain.

I nodded in acknowledgement and detached approval. Let them kill each other. I didn’t care.

He nodded back then turned his attention to the fight. Crossing his arms over his chest, he let the demon and the Fallen wage war on each other.

I couldn’t help but wonder if the cabin would survive it. It was such a pretty place.

As for the combatants? I just didn’t care.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

THE SMELL OF COOKING bacon woke me. I lay there, warm yet unmoved. My stomach was of another persuasion, rumbling with greedy lust at the thought of breakfast.

“Traitor,” I mumbled.

I hadn’t thought I’d ever fall asleep last night, but my self-preservation had seen the wasteland of sleep as a sufficient place to which it might retreat. It had fled, dragging me along. I’d been out in minutes. In the twilight of wakefulness, I thought Noah had come to me, tucking me in while whispering over me in a strange, lost language. Dumping that train of thought as nonproductive, I flipped the covers back and gasped as the cold hit my body and my bladder tightened. Of all the damn times to need to make a break for the bathroom. Could nothing afford me any dignity?

The subdued voices below quieted at the sounds I made as I waffled back and forth, trying to decide what to do. In the end, the bladder won. Bathroom first, deal with getting the hell out of here second. I could use Armen’s willingness to help to my advantage. The train of thought derailed and went up in a magnificent fireball of death as my conscience intervened. You are not that person. Never have been, never will be. Do it on your own or don’t do it at all. I heaved a deep sigh, knowing that internal voice was right. Dragging the comforter around me more firmly, I started for the stairs.

All eyes were turned to the landing when I got there. I looked down and held tight to my poker face when I found the three men companionably eating breakfast at the dining table. Laying a steadying hand on the railing, I took the steps one at a time, keeping my attention focused on the blanket wrapped about my legs. Tripping and breaking my neck would render me just as dead as Cain delivering the killing blow. I nearly stumbled, and all three chairs shoved back from the table at once. Shaking my head, I managed to get to the bottom and drop the blanket before shuffling off to the bathroom.

Coffee awaited me in a large stoneware mug on the fireplace mantle. I picked it up and lifted a questioning brow toward Armen.

“Take it with cream or sugar?” he asked.

My, weren’t we being careful this morning. “Black’s fine,” I rasped out, clearing my throat of the last vestiges of sleep.

Cain stood and moved silently out onto the porch, shutting the door behind him.

He sat on the swing, sipping his coffee and looking out over the small yard that bore the tracks of my footsteps away and back as proof last night had happened. My heart hurt with a near-debilitating ache. It took me several minutes to realize I stood in front of the other two men, shoulders rolled forward, rubbing my breastbone in an effort to assuage the pain while staring at the demon’s partial profile. I turned back to the stairs, intent on spending some time in the loft sorting out what my options were.

“Dani?” Armen moved toward me and I stopped mid-turn, deliberately taking a sip of coffee without looking directly at him. “Hey. What did I do to warrant such a cold reception?”

I shrugged. “It was a long night, Armen.” Sipping my coffee, I changed course to buy some physical distance and chose to curl up on the sofa, tucking my feet under me. I needed a pair of those battery-powered, heated socks.

“He won’t talk about whatever happened out there last night, but clearly something did. I want to know what it was.”

I smiled humorlessly into the coffee cup. “You made archangel with that mind? You must have been so proud.”

Noah snorted from somewhere nearby—kitchen?—and I fought the urge to look for him.

“Look, I’ll tell you the same thing I told him.” Armen sank down to the edge of the coffee table, perching there as he watched me intently. “You guys need to either work it out or I’ll get rid of him. We don’t need the complication when the shit hits the fan.” He glanced at the clock. “And it’s coming.”

Despite my outward bravado, my stomach tightened miserably. I inhaled, counted to ten, and blew it out, all the while trying to grab a single emotion to latch onto. My innocence had taken my naivety when what I actually wanted it to take was the bevy of useless emotions that weighed me down. I turned to the cracked dining area window and watched Cain’s head move in and out of view as he swung.

“Dani?” Armen pressed me to answer the unspoken question.

“What?” I snapped. “What do you want from me, Armen? Do you want to hear that I want him sent away? That I’m ready to damn him for eternity?”

The swing stopped moving.

“Forget it. I can’t give you that,” I said, lowering my voice. “I can’t give you the answer you need from me any more than you can absolve me from having to make some hard decisions. I’m sorry on both accounts, and that only makes me a bigger fool.” I stood, scratching absently at my shoulders. When he started to speak, I held up a hand. “Stop, okay? Just stop. There are enough personal elephants in this room to start a circus. Unless that’s your intent, leave it alone.” I looked back at the window and found that Cain was gone. I visibly sagged and buried my face in my free hand, turning away from the fallen angel to master the thoughts I knew raced across my face with uncontrolled abandon.

The rustle of denim and creak of leather said Armen had moved away from me. I left my eyes closed, craving the illusion of solitude.

When the backdoor opened sometime later, I assumed one of the men was leaving. It wasn’t until I heard the heavy stomping of someone knocking snow off his boots that my heart tripped in my chest. The door shut, the click of the latch apparently the secret code for my muscles to twitch reflexively. I slid a shaking hand from my eyes to my mouth, closing my fist and pressing it against my lips, willing myself silent. The movement brought back memories of last night, my reaction the same when he left me, and I flung my hand down. I couldn’t go there, wouldn’t go there.

“Good morning.” Cain’s subdued voice reminded me of who he’d been weeks ago, and the memory led back to last night’s cruel exchange. It seemed all roads led back to him.

I was afraid to answer him, unsure what I might say, so I nodded.

“I wanted to talk to you before this happens.” He coughed and fell silent.

I turned to him and found the room empty except for us. “I think we said it all last night, don’t you?” Maybe it was blunt, but I truly couldn’t think of any way to make this easier.

“Yeah. I suppose we did.” He lifted his gaze, and the depth of emotion I found rendered me mute.

My mouth worked silently until I pressed my lips together, biting the bottom one until the copper taste of blood accompanied the pain of the splitting lip. The cost of doing business with him seemed to forever revolve around pain.

He watched me, the small stress marks between his brows and at the corners of his eyes more pronounced than normal. He was pale, his normally tanned skin washed out. Fists clenched and opened repeatedly, and every couple of seconds his right hand would lift and drop, like he wanted to move.

The clock chimed and I counted the gongs like I had counted my return footsteps. One. Two. Three. I waited. Four. Five. Six. I held my breath. Seven. Eight. I closed my eyes…and opened them on nine. Truce over.

The final gong was still wavering on the air when he started for me.

I watched him coming with clear purpose and I stood ready to meet him, emotionally ravaged. I couldn’t defend myself from him, not now and maybe not ever. My cup fell to the floor in slow motion and I didn’t flinch when the coffee scalded my leg. I was entirely resigned to the moment at hand. The backdoor flew open and Armen stepped in, his single wing held aloft and the power of Malkuth cloaking him in righteous fury. It didn’t matter, though. No matter what he did, it would come too late.

Cain yanked me off my feet and crushed his mouth to mine, shocking me senseless. I hung in his arms with less structure than a well-loved rag doll. The enraged demon took three large steps forward and, cupping my head in his hands, slammed my back into the wall. “Respond, damn it!” He pulled farther back to scowl at me at the same time the Fallen stepped back through the door.

Armen paused, clearly conflicted. “Honor your promise. You won’t hurt her.”

“On my honor as you know me. Give me ten minutes.”

Armen nodded and slipped out the door without another word.

Still hanging in the demon’s embrace, I turned my face away. Emotion clogged my throat. A strangled sob struggled to the surface and I choked it out.

“You listen to me,” he hissed, going to nose to nose with me.

“I did,” I whispered.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” he roared, dropping me and spinning away. I started to slide down the wall but he was back, grabbing my arms and hauling me to my feet. “You listen to me now, Dani. You forget what I said last night. I need to tell you—you need to know why I did it.”

“I can’t.” Tears began to flow down my face and I was unashamed. They screamed at him, trumpeting my hurt in undeniable fashion. “Don’t do this to me, Cain. By the mercy of the Holy, don’t.” He opened his mouth and I shook my head hard. “Don’t. Don’t you see?” I whispered. “I won’t let you break me, Cain. Yes, you’ve got the ability to do it, but I can’t allow it, not now and not ever, because I don’t know if I’d ever recover.”

His forehead rested against mine before his grip tightened on my arms. “Listen to me, Dani. You listen and you hear what I’m saying to you now.” He leaned back and caught my gaze. “You’re the first woman I’ve chosen, Dani.” The confusion on my face teased a ghost of a smile from one corner of his mouth. “Since I became an incubus, you’re the first woman I’ve chosen.”

Understanding dawned. “But you didn’t choose me. You played me, Cain. You played me and you walked away.”

He shook his head at the same time his lips thinned. “Again, Dani, did you ever consider I did it for you instead of to you?” A single, hard shake punctuated the question. “You don’t need to tie yourself to someone like me. I’m a murderer and a whore.” Painful self-awareness flashed across his face. “You needed a reminder. So did I.”

“And now?” I asked, voice devoid of the rage that simmered just below my diaphragm.

“Now? I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t. Matter?” The words were forced out through clenched teeth.

“I’m…” He swallowed and shook his head. “Fuck.” Scratching an inconsequential itch on his chin, he stared out the near window before turning back to me. “I’m…I’m sorry.” He shuddered. Drawing a deep, shaking breath, he held it then let it out, slowly lowering his stare until it locked with mine. “You matter.” His grim tone of voice both soothed and savaged my raw emotions.

Before I could formulate my response, the backdoor slammed open.

Cain tossed me into the nearest chair and spun to face the interloper, placing himself between me and the unknown.

“Can’t give you any more time, man. We’ve got incoming.” Armen moved with lethal grace to a chest where he withdrew a series of weapons. “What can you handle, Dani?”

My thick mind couldn’t find words enough to answer him.

Cain answered for me. “She’s had some sword training and she can fire a gun.”

“First-hand knowledge on that last one.” Armen paused and turned amber eyes on Cain. “Look, I’ve got to know where you stand.” His voice was infused with a deep chime, and I saw him as an archangel for the first time. Cain started and stopped his answer twice before Armen cut him off. “I can’t risk her, Cain. The Holy knew if there was anyone who would tempt me to break my covenant to her, it was you. I love you as my brother in all things, but I can’t risk any part in this.” He swallowed hard, fighting an undertow of emotion while Cain just stood there looking at him. In a quiet voice Armen said, “Go outside, Cain. Don’t bring this to her here. At least give her a chance to fight.”

Cain started for the door and I closed my eyes, unable to watch him go. The backwash of cold air slapped me. When the demon slipped through the opened door, I knew it was over.

Armen took a sharp breath. “Dani.” His words were choked.

Opening my eyes, I moved into his outstretched arms, tucking my hands in the sweatshirt reflexively.

“I just knew he’d come around. I thought when he asked for ten minutes with you it meant he’d decided.”

I nodded, wiping my tears against his shirt. “He had. I think you interrupted his goodbye.”

He gently set me back, resting his hands on my shoulders. “We can’t do this now. Listen, you can’t hesitate with any weapon I give you. This is going to be fierce and ugly because I don’t know what they’re coming with. It’s also our first fight together. We’ve got to get through this, to keep you alive, so you can choose on your own. It has to work that way in order to maintain the balance of choice and mankind’s free will. Otherwise Sheol will roll over the earth and all life will end.” He closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring.

It was clearer to me then than it had ever been. I was an unclaimed soul and had to choose my allegiance. It wouldn’t be today. The point today was that I intended to make it clear I wasn’t going anywhere against my will. Not anymore.

“Take what you’re able to use and stay as close to either me or Noah as you can. Don’t get separated. If you do,” he looked at me and his eyes blazed, “call your wings. Do what you can to get out of here.”

“I can’t fly,” I whispered.

He cursed. “I forgot. You’ll have to stay close and fight hard. It’s the best we can do.”

The truth bloomed frightfully bright: Armen thought we were going to die and, in that moment, I thought he was right.

We took what we could carry and went out the door to answer Sheol’s first challenge.

A snowmobile rocketed into the clearing, its driver slumped to one side and bleeding profusely from a variety of nasty wounds. The machine slid to a stop twenty feet in front of Armen. It was the barkeeper.

“Tarron,” he sputtered, “Hunters. Town.” He fell the rest of the way off the machine before anyone could get to him, landing face-first in the snow. I started forward but Armen grabbed my arm and pulled me behind him.

“If Tarron let another demon get this far, there’s a reason.”

I stared at the bartender. He’d never registered as a demon and it surprised me.

A grating noise, metal rubbing metal, vibrated the air near the snowmobile at the same time the faint sounds of approaching engines reached us. Cain’s fellow Hunter, Tarron, flickered into being behind the downed man, a wicked smile on his face. He stood motionless as the engines drew closer. “To his credit, he didn’t give you up regardless of what I did to him. I had to let him make his way here so I could track you down. You’ve hidden well, Fallen.”

“Armen?” I asked in a low voice that bordered on pleading as I looked at the bleeding man.

He didn’t look away from Tarron when he shook his head. “Leave him.”

My back itched like mad, my shoulders jerking and twitching so bad that I must have looked like a marionette. I wondered if I’d be able to contain the change or if it would rule me. I rolled my shoulders and Tarron shifted his attention to me.

“You nearly cost me my existence, which means you and I have a personal score to settle.” He winked at me, and a low, rattling threat emanated from deep in his chest. His narrowed gaze shifted between the three of us. “Where’s Cain?”

Things had happened so quickly that I hadn’t looked for him when we raced outside. Knowing he wasn’t with us or them, I couldn’t help but look around. The reality shouldn’t have struck me such a blow, but it did. He’d left the cabin. And then he’d left us.

Tarron chuckled. “Why drag this out then?” He folded in on himself, mumbled something in the same Sheolian language he’d used at the Fair with Cain, grunting as bones broke and reknit, muscles lengthened, tore and healed, and talons split through the ends of his fingers and toes. He stood painfully slow, almost twice the size he had been. His clothes shredded and fell away from an orange-brown body now heavily muscled and sporting the physical reality I was familiar with as this sub-species of demon. I hadn’t noticed at the hotel that his legs were jointed backward, like an ostrich’s, so he moved in an odd, rocking way.

Tarron reached down and, with a single hand, picked the bartender up by the neck. He moved his free hand behind the barkeeper’s back and the frightened demon’s eyes went wide.

“Are you voyeuristic, Ambriel?” he taunted. “Do you like to watch?”

Before I could answer, two snowmobiles bumped and slid into the yard. They were driven by lesser demons of some type, but that was all I could tell. Abruptly cutting the engines, the silence left my ears ringing. They hopped off the machines and moved to Tarron’s side with athletic grace. The realization they’d be capable combatants made my stomach pitch and roll, forcing me to breathe heavily through my nose.

Tarron shook the bartender to reclaim my attention. “You shouldn’t deny me the pleasure of your voice, Ambriel. It makes me cranky.” He shoved his taloned hand into the smaller demon’s back.

The bartender screamed, a high-pitched wail of desperation. He clawed and slapped at Tarron as he tried to shift, to fight, but his form only wavered in the morning light. He wasn’t strong enough to shift in the face of the sun.

“Don’t be a pussy,” Tarron admonished with a grunt. The bartender choked and blood dribbled out of his mouth as he coughed, hands scrabbling at his chest as he arched and twisted, trying to break free of the Hunter’s hold. He grunted and his eyes went wide, his mouth slack, when a wet, meaty sound ripped through the air. Bones snapped and Tarron yanked his arm backward, dropping the body before holding up the heart up for all to see. It steamed in the cold mountain air. Gore decorated the demon’s thick arm while blood spatter adorned the side of the snowmobile and blackened the snow all around his feet. Tarron split the heart with two hands and it went to ash. He wiped his hands on his shredded pants before gesturing to the two lesser demons to spread out and flank Armen and Noah.

Armen reached behind to pull me firmly between the two. I palmed my gun and silently swore that I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if they came at us.

Tarron’s lips twisted and pulled over his elongated jaw when he grinned. “You outfitted the Key with a gun?”

Armen blinked slowly and cocked out a hip in feigned boredom. “Why are you here, Tarron? You know you can’t possibly best me and I’m not about to allow you to carry out the ESO. Even if you somehow managed, you don’t have the chops to summon Samil.”

Tarron’s threat rattled in his chest, more substantial this time. “I’ll enjoy killing you. You’ve not been reclaimed by Malkuth so you’re free game, and I happen to know Samil has special plans for the demon who delivers you to him at the Playground. You’re a bonus, Armen, not a deterrent.”

“Uh-huh.” Armen’s words were indifferent but his arm flexed and relaxed, an involuntary response that validated the weight of the threat.

Tarron moved to one side of our group and we shifted a bit to track him. “What is it about you, Dani? You were able to distract Cain from a significant payoff. Then you managed to earn the so-called loyalty of this lying, cheating fuck. You that good between the sheets?” His eyes roved over me irreverently and he blinked slowly. “You’re attractive for all that you’re a mutt. Would you like to try to dissuade me from killing you?”

The urge to puke was so strong that I had to swallow convulsively to get my stomach under control.

“Enough.” Noah’s voice was sharp and commanding. “Leave, Tarron. This isn’t something you can hope to win.”

The Hunter crouched just a bit and shook out his hands, a look of anticipation. He issued a series of commands and his soldiers spread even wider.

Noah drew a gun and short sword. He stood vibrating with barely harnessed energy and I had the fleeting thought that he might be enjoying this just a little.

Armen flared his wing and exploded in size, hauling an enormous sword from a scabbard on his back. “One last chance, Tarron.”

“All I need is one,” he answered.

Noah snarled and took an ill-advised step toward Tarron. The threat was enough. With an unintelligible word from Tarron, the lesser demons charged us, changing forms as they came.

The fight for the right to complete the contract was on.

TARRON AND ARMEN RACED for each other, colliding with a near supersonic boom. Fists flew with blinding speed and every few seconds a spray of blood would arc across the snow. Armen took a vicious punch to the solar plexus that drove him back and he staggered. Coming up grinning, he approached Tarron with a measured assault that drove the Hunter back from where Noah and I were about to engage the lesser demons.

Tarron’s men reached us in unison, and I took a near point-blank shot at one. He spun and went down, only to scramble to his feet and turn back to me with a snarl. Noah managed to get his hands on the other demon and threw him into the one I shot. The scene would have been comical in almost any other situation.

Noah shoved me behind him and turned toward the two. They rushed him and he took them both on, fighting with deceptive ease. He was quick to lunge and retreat, slash and parry, and given the chance, knock the shit out of someone with a closed fist. His moves coalesced into a concise pattern and violently graceful rhythm.

I chanced a glance at Armen. He fought like the wrath of all time empowered him. He used brute strength and undiluted rage to smash into Tarron with single-minded focus, clearly trusting us to manage—and stay out of his way. He bloodied the Hunter’s lip with a sharp jab, smiling at the damage and following up with a roundhouse kick that dropped his opponent. Tarron rolled toward us and called out a command to his men before he lunged upward and attempted to leg sweep Armen.

The Fallen jumped back only to slam his sword down and skewer Tarron’s thigh. He laughed and stepped back at the same time one of the lesser demons spun away from our fight and stepped in to deliver a violent blow to the side of Armen’s head. It was apparently the end of the dance for the Fallen because he wrenched the sword from Tarron’s leg and turned to behead the creature with a single swing, watching dispassionately as it went to its knees before him. The lesser demon fumbled and twitched while the wound oozed thick, pustulent yellow goo that smelled like rotting meat.

Tarron may have lost a man but his goal had been accomplished. He’d driven his fight with Armen closer to us.

Not realizing what had happened and his proximity to us, Armen took a fast step back and turned in a harsh movement to find out where Noah and I were before Tarron could get back up. He caught me with his elbow in a hard backswing. The impact knocked me off my feet. He shouted a warning but what happened next couldn’t be stopped.

My hands shot out instinctively, to break my fall. I fumbled the gun and felt it jettison from my fingertips as I hit the ground with a jarring impact. My spine compressed from tailbone to skull base. Snapping back violently, my head slammed into the ground, leaving my body nothing more than a stunned mass of temporarily inoperable pieces. Snippets of recognizable sounds broke through, my sight narrowed to tunnel vision, and all I smelled was snow.

Armen yelled but the words were too muted to understand. He grabbed my hand to haul me to my feet and a flash of light blinded me. Everything was that burned-out white you see when you look at the sun. I shook my head and then the voices started.

Chants and whispered prayers lifted me up and the blinding force of light dimmed. I couldn’t make out anything other than the surreal blank background lit uniformly by the omnipresent light, but I knew the voices were there, embodied within it. Those voices pulled on me, urging me to my feet.

Something slammed into me, sending me skidding through the snow. Sounds of the conflict washed over me, and the light flashed out. I opened my eyes to a dull reality where even the pure snow seemed dingy, grey. Pain ripped through my head as my hair was jerked viciously. Someone was using it as a handle to drag me across the snow, reseating my current dilemma’s importance.

I railed against the hands that had me, my fists balled to protect my palms, my heart hammering wildly. A hiss of air and a yank were my captor’s answer. A huge body flew over me, followed by a harder yank that separated hair from my head and made me cry out even as the tension on my hair relaxed.

Desperate rage and a strong sense of self-preservation pushed me to flip over and scramble to my feet. I searched the ground for my gun but it had been buried in the melee. I spun around in time to see Armen pull the heart out of the creature he had beheaded—the same one that had been dragging me toward the clearing’s edge.

Armen turned back to the fight but it was too late. Tarron had taken advantage of everyone’s distraction and pulled himself off the ground despite massive injuries. He rushed me with blinding speed, snatching me to his chest without slowing down. He skidded to a stop near the cabin’s porch, his noxious breath coming hard and fast as his acidic blood burned slowly through my clothes and blistered my bared skin. He yanked a blade out of his side and set it to my throat. Threading his free arm under my armpit and across my chest to grab my shoulder, he snugged me up nice and tight to his chest. He transferred the blade to the hand at my shoulder, resting that blade across the front of my throat. Then he retrieved a pencil dagger buried in his thigh. That blade he pressed against the base of my skull. The tip pierced my skin and slid off the bone to a spot of softer tissue. My wings rolled under my skin hard enough the demon felt them against his abdomen.

He leaned in close and said very softly, “I’d suggest you don’t sneeze, let alone morph. You’ll never make it.”

The horror on Armen’s face was second only to mine. He paled and took a step toward me.

“Stop!” Tarron yelled, eager to gain control of the conflict, his spittle decorating the side of my exposed face and neck.

Noah had been caught in a downward swing at Tarron’s yell. Tarron’s demon stopped but Noah didn’t. He lopped the head off the creature and paused, confused at the silence. The fight had ended so suddenly it was almost comical, with all eyes turned toward me.

“Stop,” Tarron said again, this time with more authority. I twitched and he leaned forward and said, “If you begin to shift, I’ll kill you. It will reduce my compensation, but there’s a secondary clause in the contract that allows extreme measures in your retrieval.” He turned to Noah and his eyes slid half-closed. “That will cost you. I needed him.

“Armen, you and your pet come together where I can see you,” Tarron spat. He brandished the longer blade like a director’s baton. Leaning down, he settled his chin on my shoulder to speak softly into my ear. “You’re quite sure you don’t want to try to persuade me to postpone the delivery of your soul?” Bending his knees, he ground his pelvis into my ass.

“Fuck. You.” My bravado spoke without my internal consent, and I regretted it as soon as it left my mouth.

“Rest assured I’ll see that you get your wish, bitch,” he hissed. “If Samil doesn’t immediately need the Key, I’ll ask him to give you back to me to learn some manners.” He licked the side of my face from jaw to temple, and I couldn’t stop the revulsion that shook me.

“If you’re so tight with my father, why isn’t he here?” I demanded.

“Because it takes a lower level demon to summon him to this plane,” Armen answered, holding his side where it bled profusely, dotting the snow in bright red spots. “Tarron isn’t strong enough without siphoning power off other Sheolians.” Seeing my confusion, he closed his eyes and said, “Samil was banished to Sheol twenty years ago and isn’t allowed to leave the realm without being summoned or escorted by a demon of the Seventh Realm or lower. It was Malkuth’s way of chaining him to the Underworld. He still makes special collections. I’m assuming your contract specifies he’s allowed to make the collection if your death is directly caused by Sheol.”

My chest constricted as the timeline, paired with Khavien’s information, settled into place. Samil had Fallen sometime immediately after taking my mother. I had always wondered why he’d never come back for me. There was my answer. I opened my mouth to ask what had happened to my mother but Tarron clouted me over the head with the dagger hand.

“Keep your mouth shut.”

My mind scrambled, trying to find a way out of this. I wanted my tiny trailer, my library card, the anonymity I’d enjoyed in the stables, a cup of coffee, my ratty slippers—all such mundane things, but all things that defined my life.

“Summon him. Now.” Tarron pressed the long blade into my throat hard, splitting the skin.

My eyes must have bugged out of my head as I rolled them back and forth between Armen and Noah. How the hell could Armen summon a demon? I stared at the Fallen and bled desperation. I didn’t want him to be capable of such darkness, but when he dropped his gaze, I knew that what I wanted didn’t mean shit compared to what was.

Tarron observed the byplay before he leaned forward. “You’ll have to ask your charming Armen why he fell, Ambriel. He’s famous on both sides of the divide.” The demon shoved the dagger further into my head without warning and I cried out, the pain no longer manageable.

“Stop it,” Armen snarled. “I’ll do it. Just stop hurting her.” Armen stepped forward and laid down his weapons.

“No.” Cain’s command ripped across the dry air.

Armen stiffened.

Noah’s face went curiously blank and he refused to look at the demon he’d placed his faith in.

“I assumed you’d abandoned the contract,” Tarron said conversationally, wicked glee tickling his voice.

“You know better than that,” Cain drawled, walking into my field of view. He looked me over with clinical disinterest. “Something came up.”

“Whatever. She’s my kill and I’m claiming the contract payout.” Tarron shifted his grip on the dagger and the tip of the blade slid across bone.

I grunted and tears began to slide down my face.

“Suits me. This one went south from the beginning and has been nothing but difficult.” Cain shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth, heel to toe. Looking over at Armen he said, “Like you said earlier, man, I love you like a brother in all things. You know the temptation to Fall will overwhelm you if you go to Sheol. Can’t let you do it, so I’ll go.”

Noah laid a hand on Armen’s bicep. “Let him, Armen. You can’t do this.”

“It doesn’t matter.” The bitter dejection in his words was so hard to hear. “I’ve failed her.” Armen looked up at me, eyes bright. “I’m so sorry, Dani.”

Cain met my gaze and my world shifted as I watched the demon flicker before disappearing.

I closed my eyes and prayed for justice for the demon who had sentenced me to death.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THE SHADOWS FROM THE forest crept across the yard as we waited. Armen watched me carefully, keeping tabs on my every move. Twice he started to say something but stopped himself. Noah stared at Tarron, never taking his eyes off the demon.

The pain in the back of my skull settled into a throbbing ache that left me nauseous, little black spots dancing through my vision. It was manageable until Tarron moved. Then it nearly drove me to my knees. As such, I kept as still as I could, barely moving my eyes to watch the other men or the headless body that randomly rolled over. There hadn’t been time for Noah to retrieve the heart.

Armen made a choked sound of distress. Looking back, that’s what I would always remember as the signal that things were very, very wrong. Whatever had caused his distress was happening to my right and moving toward us. The Fallen schooled his face hard and fast when Noah touched his arm.

Cain made his way into my field of view, pushed backward by the hand that gripped his neck in a strangle hold. He fought for every breath, his purpled face and blue lips a ghoulish canvas for the blood that drained from empty eye sockets. The hand that held him by the throat tightened a final time before flinging him to the snow. Cain lay there, wheezing, trying to breathe.

My heart stopped and, despite it all, the cruelty of the act stirred my sympathy.

Tarron let the blade at my throat fall with a muffled whump into the deep snow. Using the freed hand, he wound it into my hair and pulled back against the dagger and I cried out, desperate to keep the blade tip from my spinal cord and my brain.

Time slowed to a crawl as my denial crumbled. If Cain was back, he’d brought—

A man, larger than life, filled the doorway of our summer home.

Light emanated from sun-kissed skin.

My small hand lay across it, outlined in brilliance.

A woman’s back, her long hair wound around hands the size of dinner plates.

Wings of white now smudged with dark streaks that made me inexplicably sad.

Angry words fell from lips carved of marble, and I hid.

Wings, darker now.

We hid to protect him, to keep anyone from knowing where we were or what he’d done.

“Ambriel?”

My bowels turned to water at the sound of his voice.

The physical size of him had, if anything, grown larger. His shoulders and chest were still broad, defined. Muscular arms ended in strong hands with beautiful fingers. His hair was as brilliant a gold as it had ever been, though streaks of black and red wove through. Lips—a full, perfect cupid’s bow—were the same shape but held a cruelty I’d never fully known. A patrician nose with a knife’s edge separated perfect brows that arched over eyes that… Holy shit. Cain’s eyes looked at me from the wrong face and it confused my sluggish brain. Cain.

My own eyes shifted over to his battered form and watched as he pulled himself up to his hands and knees.

“I don’t believe I gave you permission to move.” A heavy foot connected with Cain’s ribs and I heard multiple breaks, even at this distance. The demon collapsed, clutching his side. The most pitiless face I’d ever encountered turned back to me and asked again, “Ambriel?”

“No,” I mouthed.

Tarron made some movement behind me before he said, “Allow me to present your daughter, Ambriel Danitheus Phael.” He pulled the knife tip from the base of my skull and forced me down. “Kneel.”

Samil took careful, even steps toward me. The thing my fractured mind latched onto was the fact the snow melted all around him but he never seemed wet. Even his robe hem remained dry. He stopped in front of me and reached out to lift my face for perusal. Cain’s eyes sat slightly loose in sockets too large for their mass and I felt my stomach pitch. His eyes narrowed at my reaction and he raised his gaze to Tarron. “This isn’t my daughter.”

The demon behind me began to stutter and stumble through an explanation but my father’s hand flashed out and smashed into the side of his jaw, knocking him to the ground and silencing him. Tarron’s hand had been wound through my hair and I ended up going down with him.

Samil turned cold eyes back to me. “Get up, woman.”

I tried to focus on his throat, stay away from his face. A small scar caught my attention.

Mother had fussed over the minor wound to his neck, doctoring it despite his admonition that it would heal. The gash had faded in hours, leaving little more than a one-inch imperfection on an otherwise perfect body. The gash—where had the gash come from? A Fallen’s blade. I remembered that much. A Fallen’s blade.

“What are you staring at?” His voice was colder than the snow beneath me.

“A Fallen’s blade.” My hand visibly trembled as I laid three fingers against my neck, mirroring his point of scarring.

“How do you know that?” He squatted in front of me and grabbed my chin again. Time crawled as he roughly examined my face, turning it back and forth. “This is not her.”

“M-m-master,” Tarron stuttered. The demon’s bravado was gone, replaced with a groveling weakness even I didn’t respect. “She’s your daughter. I swear it.” Tarron held out a beseeching hand.

Had the demon rolled over and shown his belly, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

Samil arched a brow and looked at the demon with chilling arrogance. “Are you alleging that I don’t recognize my own child?”

“Never. It’s only that she’s changed since you last saw her,” Tarron quickly answered.

Samil rolled his head on his shoulders and folded his robes back, revealing a crisp black custom-tailored suit. He settled his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath, his chest straining the bone buttons on his shirt. “Prove she is who you claim she is.”

“May I?” he asked, lifting the fallen dagger from the snow.

Samil looked at me consideringly before he nodded. “Know this. If she is indeed Ambriel, I will destroy you for harming even a hair on her head. Do you understand?”

Tarron grasped the dagger hilt harder and swallowed audibly before nodding. He approached me with caution, the dagger held out. “You’re going to change for me, Ambriel, and prove to your father that I’m not lying.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and felt my lips thin to a hard line. “No,” I said through gritted teeth.

“You won’t change for him?” Samil asked, interested in my defiance.

I shook my head but kept my eyes averted.

“Perhaps, then, you will change for one of them. Consider this my proverbial shot across your bow.” Samil spun on his heel and strode over to Armen. He stood and considered the Fallen. “You and I have a score to settle as it is.”

Armen’s jaw clenched and he stared at the larger angel. “I’m done with you.”

“Not until Malkuth reclaims you, and an unfulfilled contract isn’t reclamation, my Fallen friend.” My father turned back to me. “What shall I do to force you to change, woman?” He tapped his lips with his free hand. A devilish grin brought out a dimple in his cheek. “Change or I shall order his remaining wing cut away.”

I bent forward and retched, heaving out bile and coffee. Spitting, and without lifting my eyes, I shook my head. “Don’t.”

“I don’t take your commands.” His voice cut through me like a honed scalpel to thin skin. Samil circled behind Armen. Without warning, he savagely kicked the back of the Fallen’s knees, dropping him to the ground in a forced and painful kneeling position. He held him there with a hand to the back of the neck. “The only thing that would make this better would be to force Cain to do the deed himself. As that’s not possible, you’ll suffer through Tarron’s attentions.”

The demon palmed the hilt of the larger blade and moved toward Armen.

Noah tensed.

“No,” I growled.

Samil shrugged, apathetic. “You had your opportunity. Now you’ll either convince me you are who I seek or I’ll exercise my creativity on you in similar ways.”

Horror rocked me when I realized Armen—the big, Fallen, angry archangel—couldn’t stop what was about to happen. Turning my head, I forced myself to look at Cain. The demon’s eye sockets continued to bleed despite the fact he closed his lids over the depressions. He held his ribs and breathed in shallow pants.

“Armen.” The pleading in my voice was clear. He rolled his eyes up to me the best he could and nodded so minutely that I wondered if I’d seen it at all. I’d have to take my chances.

“Chayah,” I hissed. Wings burst out of my back but I was ready for their snap this time and managed, barely, to stay on my feet.

Samil’s eyes widened in disbelief as my honey-colored wings swept out and crashed into Tarron before he could turn to face me. The demon slammed into the side of a giant pine tree, cracking it at the base. The tree crashed to the forest floor but no one paid it any attention. The crumpled demon lay on the ground, equally inconsequential. A small, vacant sense of horror swept through me that I’d done that.

Samil abandoned the others and moved toward me. Noah grabbed Cain and hauled him to rest beside Armen, who struggled to regain his feet.

Samil stopped in front of me, his physical size and presence blocking out everything else until he became my total focal point. “Are you truly Ambriel?” he asked with clinical curiosity.

Relief for Armen made me careless and I snapped, “Looks that way.”

The Angel of Death didn’t miss a beat when he reached out and slapped me hard enough my head snapped back, cracking my neck. “You will not disrespect me.” He casually shed his robe, dropping it to the ground before walking toward Tarron’s still body.

I looked at Armen and he shook his head, a clear warning not to antagonize Samil. I nodded. We both turned to watch the Angel of Death.

He discarded his jacket and then his shirt, casting them aside as insignificant despite the cold. He spoke so softly I couldn’t hear him. The explosion of his wings scared me, sent me stumbling back, landing on my ass in the deep snow. My memory had been so far off. His wings were larger now, and colored an all-encompassing dark. They were the darkness of deepest space, where no light traveled and nothing save silence existed. Each wing extended an easy seven feet from the point of connection to the body. I’d never seen anything like it.

“You cut her.” Holding his hands out over Tarron’s body, he closed his eyes and began to chant in a hybrid language of Latin and Sheolian. Tarron gasped, his eyes flashing open, his mouth stretched open in a silent scream. His body was lifted off the ground by an invisible force, flopping to a crude V at the point where his spine and pelvis had broken.

Samil lifted his hands higher and the demon’s body followed. Shadows crept nearer the Angel of Death, seeming to answer his call. Revenant figures emerged from the lengthening darkness, shapeless save for the gaping mouths with which they whispered. Samil clearly commanded them and they began to circle him, closing in with every pass they made, following a prominent figure that focused on him at all times.

Tarron watched them in abject horror, his mouth moving in silent screams as his useless body was lifted above Samil’s head.

The Angel of Death stepped out of the circle of specters, disregarding the clinging wisps of effluvium that melted back into the circling mass once he was free of them. With Samil’s final, unintelligible command, the ring of shadows moved on Tarron as one, linking together and assaulting every opening he had, diving in and out. The demon couldn’t have battled them if he’d been hale. Broken as he was, they made short work of him. His body crashed to the ground and he rolled his eyes toward me as he breathed his last. With his final exhale, a new shadow emerged from his mouth and stood with the others as they awaited my father’s orders.

“Go,” he ordered, waving a hand toward the forest. “I’ve no use for you now.”

They dissolved into the deeper forest without a sound.

Samil turned back to me and watched me with borrowed eyes. “The making of a wraithen is a reality to which you must become accustomed, Ambriel. They are precious to me.” He moved close enough to stroke my face. “You will come back to Sheol with me where we will discuss your role as the Key.”

I was numb, overrun with emotions. “No.”

His lips thinned and his wings flared just before he slapped me again. “Do not disrespect me.”

I licked the fresh split on my lip, lifting my chin defiantly.

“Dani.” Noah snapped my name out like a command.

“Muzzle your pet, Armen, or he’ll find himself sorely wishing he’d held his tongue.” Samil looked over his shoulder at the motley group. “Unless, of course, you’re willing to complete your defection from Malkuth. Then he’s welcome to come with you, provided you can control him.” He dropped his hand from my face and turned to face the Fallen. “What say you? Return with me?”

“Go to hell,” Armen spat.

Samil smiled benignly. “Where do you think I’ve been?” He turned back to me, effectively dismissing the group as inconsequential. “There’s quite a bit to do before you release the Horsemen. I’ll depend on you to ensure the tides of favor shift for Sheol.”

I had no clue what “tides of favor” he was talking about. All I knew was that I didn’t have any intention of returning to Sheol with him. I backed away a step and lifted my chin, opening my mouth to speak. Cain beat me to it.

Cain had been helped to unsteady feet by Noah and he stood, supported by the Watcher and clutching broken ribs. His eyelids were crusted shut with dried blood. “She’s not going anywhere with you, Samil. Malkuth laid its counterclaim to her soul, so free will is invoked. You can’t force her to go.”

Samil’s face was thunderous as he rounded on Cain. “What have you done?” he asked, his voice resonating with such vitriolic fury the ground trembled.

“Talent always goes to the highest bidder, motherfucker, and you’ve been outbid.” Cain shook off the hands that supported him.

“You will spend an eternity praying to your new god for a salvation that will never come.” He stepped away from me and toward Cain, his wings expanding to their greatest width. “I will delight in seeing to your torture myself since you’ve clearly made this personal.”

Armen stepped slightly in front of Cain and extended his single wing. “I’m thinking you’ll not want to do anything that might cause Ambriel to lean toward Malkuth, Samil.”

The Angel of Death paused and then nodded with a single dip of his chin. He stood silent long enough that I began to fear his next move because he was clearly weighing each option. Wings tucking up close and tight to his body, he turned to me. “Come with me willingly, Ambriel, and I’ll spare Cain’s life.”

“He’s immortal,” I whispered. “Even if you take his heart, he’ll be reborn to Sheol.”

Samil dipped his head and a small smile played at the corner of his mouth. “True. I will spare him torture at my hand.” He began walking back to me and Noah moved to support Cain again when the demon’s legs began to shake.

“You’ll order it at someone else’s.”

He narrowed his eyes and his nostrils pinched together over that hard mouth. “I do not negotiate, Ambriel.” His wings opened slowly and he spread his feet. “You’re both my daughter and the Key, and no amount of free will changes that.” Samil reached out and grabbed me by the throat with one hand, lifting off the ground in a spiral movement.

My wings intervened, slapping forward instinctively to knock him off balance. The countering rush of air created a temporary vacuum and we plummeted toward the earth. Armen leapt for us as did Noah. They grabbed my ankles and pulled.

Cain had been holding on to Armen and followed his hands to my feet, managing to grip my ankles at the same time Samil regained his upward momentum. Cain’s grip was tighter than either Armen’s or Noah’s. His hands ground bone on bone. The two other men grabbed Cain and held on, anchoring him. Something inside me tore and I tried to scream. I was terrified the men would tear me apart—Cain blind and unknowing, Samil never caring so long as it meant the opposition couldn’t keep me. I would die in his hands and never have made my choice.

Voices crashed through my head, the cacophony of sound more brutal than anything I’d experienced. The screams of the damned mingled with the hymns of the holiest and I tried to grab my head around the Fallen archangel’s arms. Samil’s eyes, Cain’s eyes, were alight with victory. The flames of Sheol devoured the borrowed orbs and the smell of burning flesh was choking.

Oblivion pulled at me, whispering seductively. It would be so much easier to give in, stop the fight and just go with him, to stop this suffering.

“You have choices, Dani,” Noah bellowed, his voice that of a thousand voices combined.

Cain yanked on my ankles and I felt Samil’s grip slip on my sweat-slicked skin.

The internal voices increased in volume and I struggled to hold them off as the demon and Angel of Death pulled me in opposing directions.

Samil’s entire being flickered as black smoke roiled around him. Something in my stomach tore free and I grunted.

Realizing I was being torn in two, Armen tried to pull Cain off. “Let go! He’s killing her!”

Cain’s grasp tightened before his hands slid free and I felt myself rise. The cloying smell of brimstone clogged my lungs and the light began to fade faster. Chants of the holiest grew faint. I raced toward the end, death nipping at my heels as Death held me by the throat and prepared to claim my soul when the time came.

No.

My wings whipped forward with massive force, shattering Samil’s arms. I fell toward Earth, my vision graying. It was divine providence that I had the presence of mind to tuck my wings away before I hit the ground. “Cthar.”

Armen shoved Cain aside and the demon went down with a grunt of pain. The Fallen snagged me out of the air and we slammed to the ground, the wind knocked out of us. We lay there, fighting to breathe.

Samil turned in the air, regaining his balance. With a snarl, he lifted his hands at the wrists, his splintered arms unable to do more. His eye sockets were filled with Hellfire and he conjured the same between limp hands. Coaxing those flames of damnation to life, I suddenly understood that he’d try to take us this way. Sprawled on the ground, we were indefensible, and I knew neither Armen nor I could survive this.

With a righteous scream, Noah threw himself at Samil and knocked the Fallen archangel from the air. They tumbled to the ground, a twisted, macabre display of limbs and legs. The ground shook when they hit and they began fighting with a fierce brutality that bespoke life or death.

Noah’s eyes had gone liquid gold. He seemed larger, more violent than ever before, but he didn’t shift. Delivering a crushing blow, he threw Samil several feet back and rode him to the ground hard.

Death snarled in his face, eyes still burning. “You’re a dead man.”

“I’m a Watcher,” Noah roared.

Samil stilled.

Noah got in his face and said, “You’ll leave the Key to the covenants of free will, Samil, Fallen Son of Malkuth.”

“Not without sacrifice, for even covenants come with costs,” Samil answered in a ringing voice that echoed with the souls of the damned.

Noah raised up. “So it is written, so shall it be.”

Samil sneered. “Fool.”

I saw it happening and couldn’t gather enough air to scream, couldn’t move fast enough to stop the horror that unfolded in front of me. “No!” I wheezed. “Oh, Holy! No!”

Samil called the fire to his hand and shoved it into Noah’s chest.

The Watcher screamed and fell back, writhing in agony. His hands clawed at his chest, trying to pull the fire free. It was too late. He burned and screamed and suffered immeasurable horror. The fire consumed him, lighting him up from the inside out. Arching his back, his arms fell to his side and he shuddered violently, heels digging into the snow. “Holy! Have mercy!” He screamed, pleaded, lamented. Tears rolled down his face and he sobbed in agony.

I pulled myself to my knees, my own injuries leaving my abdomen free-moving. Things were torn, things that had been meant to hold me together. It was wrong in every way. It didn’t matter. Sobs racked me, burning my gut, as I dragged myself to Noah’s agonized body. Pain pushed me, desperation pulled me, as I covered the ground between us. Every inch was a horrible victory. My eyes stayed glued to him, keeping him as my focus and my goal.

He arched again and cried out, raising his arms to the heavens before flinging them wide. His body lay spread in supplication, an offering of absolute sacrifice.

“Noah,” I breathed, covering the final distance.

Golden eyes, bright with misery and ageless with understanding, turned to me. He arched again, gritted his teeth and tried not to scream.

I lifted a shaking hand and reached for him. My soul pleaded with the Holy that my gift would flare, that I would see Noah’s future, some promise of redemption.

He met my outstretched hand with his own, lacing his fingers together with mine and holding on tight. His hand was so smooth, the skin warm and dry. “Dani.”

My name on his lips was my breaking point. I began to sob, bending over his hand and pushing with everything I had. “Please!” I screamed. Laying beside him, I ran my other hand through his hair, reveling in its thick silkiness and the ridges of his skull. I traced his face and wiped the tears from his face. “Oh, Holy,” I moaned, “no. Don’t do this.”

There was nothing. No future. No death. No anything but him under my fingertips.

“Dani.” He watched me with such sympathy. “Remember what—” he tightened his hand on mine and groaned in misery. “Remember what I told you.” He panted, fighting for breath. His fingers gripped mine hard enough to grind the bones together. “We all make the decisions that define who we are in a way that is far louder and more permanent than words, be they ours or others’, ever will. In the end, we leave a legacy of choices. Never forget. You are the Key. You are precious and valuable beyond measure.”

“Don’t do this to me,” I cried. “Don’t leave me, Noah. You can’t…you can’t be like everyone else.”

The sound of feet crunching through the snow penetrated my denial, demanding my attention. I lifted my head to see Samil approach, a look of triumph on his face. “He is done, Ambriel. Come with me and you’ll spare your other two defenders the same fate.”

“My soul is not yours.” Agony flooded me and Samil was blurry through my tears. “I invoke my free will, you son of a bitch.”

The sky opened above him, revealing a visual horror greater than my mind could rationalize or make sense of. The Angel of Death was ripped through the tear in space, screaming as he went. It slammed closed behind him, creating a shock wave equivalent to a small bomb.

Absolute silence fell over us and I shut that away to deal with later. Noah. I turned back to him, shaking my head. “No. You don’t leave me.”

A single tear fell from the corner of his eye. “Oh, Dani.” He gasped and pushed with his heels, driving his head tighter into the palm of my hand. “Promise me you’ll remember. Give me your word.”

I nodded. I would have given him anything in that moment. “I promise.”

“Faith and hope are part of the solution. You’ll get there.” He cried out in sheer agony.

“Noah!” I screamed.

He pulled me closer to him and I leaned in until our lips touched in a moment of tender understanding, a kiss of absolute, pure love like I’d never known. He pulled back and nodded, watching me as he took his final, sharp breaths. “You are my hope.” The gold of his eyes faded until the color was gone and only emptiness met my gaze.

I curled into him, sobs racking my broken body, wrecking my shattered soul. A trembling hand laid against my back, quickly joined by another. Armen and Cain had made their way to us and we lay there together under a canopy of shared grief.

Armen uttered a short prayer in Hebrew, his chest trembling with every breath.

“Not Noah,” Cain moaned.

I nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see me. Tears coursed down my cheeks, my grief more painful than the torn muscles and tissue in my abdomen. I couldn’t breathe. Holy help me, I was responsible for this.

Armen laid a heavy, knowing hand on my shoulder and forced me to sit up. He tucked me in close and we wept together.

Cain felt his way to us and laid a hand on each of us but didn’t come any closer.

“I’m so sorry, Armen,” I said through the tears. “I’m so sorry.”

The Fallen leaned back and took my tear-stained face in his hands. His eyes burned bright and a fierce look came over his face.

I tried to look away but he tightened his grip. “Please don’t,” I whispered, beseeching him to not damn me.

“You listen to me,” he said, his voice rough and raw. “Noah chose this. His self-sacrifice ripped Samil back. Absolute evil cannot reconcile absolute sacrifice.” Armen sat up and looked over at me. “He’d have wanted it that way, Dani.”

I shook my head and pressed my lips together, unable to speak for a minute. Finally, I managed to offer a final, broken, “I’m so sorry.”

“You honor his memory and you keep your promise,” Armen ground out through clenched teeth. “You don’t let this go unanswered, Ambriel Danitheus Phael.” He clutched me closer to him and we held onto each other with the desperation of having survived. Armen kissed the top of my head. “You invoked free will, Dani. Things are officially set in motion.”

I nodded, wiping my tears on his shirt.

Cain stroked the back of my head. “We need to get inside.”

I turned to him and recoiled slightly. “Your eyes.”

“They’ll regenerate in seventy-two hours or less. It’s not the first time this has happened and it probably won’t be the last.” He lifted his chin in defiance of that future certainty. Reaching out with searching fingers, he found my face and held it. “You okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” As soon as every breath stopped making me feel like I was being sawed in half. I closed my eyes for a moment, opening them when I heard the men begin to move.

They helped each other up and then Armen grabbed my arms and lifted me to my feet.

I cried out and doubled over, the burning in my gut more than I could bear. Falling to my knees, I curled in on myself.

Strong arms swept me up and held me close. I lifted my face to find Cain’s battered countenance faced forward. “Help me get her to the house so we can deal with…” A shudder ran through him and a single, bloody tear traced down his cheek. Strong hands gripped my clothes and perfect lips trembled. His nostrils flared and he shook his head, the movements short and harsh.

I laid my head against his chest and nodded.

Cain started for the house with Armen’s guidance. He stumbled several times, prompting Armen to insist on taking me. Once relieved of my weight, Cain went to his knees, one hand on a thigh and the other holding his broken ribs.

“Cain?” Armen turned back to the demon and nearly set me down.

The downed man’s shoulders shook softly and he waved us off, shaking his head, his face protected by his hair. It wasn’t lost on me that as much as I’d come to care for Noah, my time with him didn’t even constitute a blip when compared to the millennia he’d known Armen and Cain.

“I think…let’s go inside.” Armen started for the house.

The yard was a total mess where we’d initially confronted Tarron and his men. One of the bodies still rolled around on the ground, flipping about like a freshly beheaded chicken.

“Such nasty bastards,” Armen snapped. “Can you manage?”

“Set me on the steps and I’ll be fine.”

The Fallen deposited me there gently, rolled his sleeves up and turned slowly back to the headless demon. “For you, my friend,” he said softly. Walking up to the headless body, he efficiently flipped it over, ripped open its bloodied jacket and shirt and, on a deep breath, plunged his hands into its chest. Air exploded from the trachea on a whine as Armen dug through the chest and ripped the heart out. He dug fingers into the meat and halved the six-chambered organ. The body and heart went to ash.

It didn’t even faze me when the light wind began to blow it away. “What happens now?”

Armen knelt and ran his hands through the snow, scrubbing at the blood and grit. “He’ll go back to Sheol where he’ll be reissued a body.”

“He’s not dead?”

“There are only two ways to kill a demon. The first is if he becomes a wraithen. That’s irreversible. Second is death by a blade forged from Michael’s steel.”

“What’s Michael’s steel?”

“The archangel Michael has a blade that was forged by the Holy Himself. It’s indestructible. Every now and again, Michael will shave off sections of the steel to hammer into new blades. His sword heals itself and you can’t tell where the shavings were taken from. Run a demon through and either hit or even nick the heart with Michael’s steel and it’s not recoverable.” I opened my mouth to ask another question and Armen shook his head. “That’s enough. We’ve got some time to bring you up to speed on what we need you to know.” He paused to take a breath and looked over the yard to where we’d left Noah’s body. “Holy help me.”

I followed his gaze and gasped. Noah’s body was gone. It took everything I had to stand, but I managed. “Where is he?”

Armen turned to answer me and ended up sweeping me up as I collapsed. “He’s gone home, Dani.” The awe and envy in his voice were unmistakable.

“Malkuth?”

The Fallen nodded. Shaking off and pretending his eyes weren’t damp, he said, “Let’s get you inside.” He worked his way through the door and deposited me on the couch before he turned back to the yard to retrieve Cain.

When we were all in the house and Armen had stoked the fire, we quietly sat in the living room. Cain had a warm cloth draped over his eye sockets and his ribs had been wrapped. I had a blanket in my lap and pain meds in my stomach. Both men nursed highball glasses while I blew across the top of my cocoa. There was so much to say to one another, so much to do in the way of planning, and yet none of us was willing to open the conversational door. Instead, we each mentally retreated. I couldn’t speak for the men, though I suspected their minds followed mine to thoughts of Noah. He was the first of what I expected would be many casualties, and I selfishly hoped that none would hurt worse.

Unstoppable events had been set in motion. The road to the end would be paved with hard choices, painted in the blood of both the guilty and the innocent. No matter the costs, I would see this through to the very last.

I was the Key.

Acknowledgments

WHEN IT COMES TO acknowledgements, there are too many names I want—and need—to include. There would be pages and pages of people to thank if I were to list everyone who made this book come alive. But in what feels much like a televised speech, the prompter is counting down, so here it goes.

Deidre Knight, my agent extraordinaire, has been described to me as a force of nature. That may be the understatement of the century. The woman makes the impossible happen on a daily basis and makes dreams come true without batting an eye, yet she’s always the first one to celebrate with you over good news. This story would have remained boxed for a long time if it hadn’t been for her steadfast encouragement. She loves these characters as much as I do, and that’s saying something. Every cherub has been included for her amusement.

That inner circle I mentioned—Heather, Amanda, Gina, Lenny, Moira. You guys each invested time and energy in reading this story and helping me straighten out the complexities. Enough so that Deidre Knight signed me as a client based on this manuscript. To each of you, I am eternally grateful. I’m not done writing, though, so keep sending the emotional chocolate. Of course, the literal stuff works well too.

To my sister-in-law and freelance editor, Paige, I cannot thank you enough for the untold hours you spent reading and re-reading this manuscript before I would let it venture out of my grasp at all. You helped me fine-tune it until it sounded more like a sports car, less like a Vespa.

To the readers who have been patiently waiting for this book, I applaud you. I’d tackle hug you, but I hear the law’s getting a little weird about that in some areas. Still, you have my unending gratitude.

And finally, to my darling husband. You’ve been my rock. My foundation. My strength. Every leap of faith I took along the way may have appeared brave, but it really wasn’t. I knew, no matter what happened, you had a contingency plan, and you’d catch me.

Coming Soon!

Look out for the next book in The Key Guardians series: RUIN OF SOULS

Rock Addiction by Nalini Singh

New York Times bestselling author Nalini Singh stuns with a sizzling contemporary romance…

A bad boy wrapped in a sexy, muscled, grown-up package might be worth a little risk…

Molly Webster has always followed the rules. After an ugly scandal tore apart her childhood and made her the focus of the media’s harsh spotlight, she vowed to live an ordinary life. No fame. No impropriety. No pain. Then she meets Zachary Fox, a tattooed bad boy rocker with a voice like whiskey and sin, and a touch that could become an addiction.

A one-night stand with the hottest rock star on the planet, that’s all it was meant to be…

Fox promises scorching heat and dangerous pleasure, coaxing Molly to extend their one-night stand into a one-month fling. After that, he’ll be gone forever, his life never again intersecting with her own. Sex and sin and sensual indulgence, all with an expiration date. No ties, no regrets. Too late, Molly realizes it isn’t only her body that’s become addicted to Fox, but her heart…

Special Excerpt:

HER SMILE SMASHED INTO HIM with stunning force. He heard nothing of the party around him, saw no one but her. God, that smile, the way she cupped her sister’s face with such open affection before the two of them hugged. Really hugged. No fake bullshit, no playing up for the journalists in the room.

They weren’t paying attention to anyone else, happy simply to see one another.

Then she laughed as she drew back and the sound was chains around his heart, a thousand guitar strings pulling tight. It hurt and it was beautiful. For an instant, he almost forgot where he was, he wanted so badly to have that unguarded smile turned in his direction. He could imagine her warm brown eyes looking up at him as she ran her fingers over his jaw and rose on tiptoe to slide one hand around his nape to haul him down for a kiss.

Fucking hell.

When was the last time a woman had done that to him the instant she walked into a room? Never. Not even when he’d been a hormone-drunk youth. And the fact he knew she was exactly as she appeared to be, that she wasn’t out for fame or money? Yeah, that just made her sexier. No way was he leaving this party without her, the raw need to possess her a violent craving in his gut.

He didn’t believe in fantasy shit like destiny or fate or the biggest con of all—love—but he knew himself. And he knew what he wanted: to tug her to him with his hand fisted in her hair, brand her with his mouth, warn every other male in the room that she was off-limits. But the instant he did that, he’d make her front-page news when he wanted her all to himself.

Private.

Alone.

No cameras.

No lights.

No fucking interruptions.

Purchase ROCK ADDICTION!

About the Author

Kelli Ireland spent a decade as a name on a door in corporate America. Unexpectedly liberated by Fate’s sense of humor, she chose to carpe the diem and pursue her passion for writing. A fan of happily-ever-afters, she found she loved being the Puppet Master for the most unlikely couples. Seeing them through the best and worst of each other while helping them survive the joys and disasters of falling in love? Best. Thing. Ever.

Visit Kelli’s website for more information: www.kelliireland.com.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2015 by Kelli Ireland

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

eISBN: 978-1-942356-11-0