Jessa Slade - Vowed in Shadows

What he’d said in the shower . . . He knew her in ways no one else ever had. He’d touched her when that had been the one thing she’d forbidden.

Now she remembered why. A touch could hurt. And it hurt worse when the touch was gone.

She left her hopelessly disgusting sneakers in the bathroom, found the strappy new heels she’d bought with an angel’s money, and teetered down the silent hall on her toes so the heels wouldn’t click.

She’d made it as far as the front door.

“Going somewhere?”

She stopped, pivoted slowly, not to be coy but because the five-inch spikes prevented anything else. “Out.”

Ecco appeared from behind one of the columns supporting the inner walls. Walls, she knew, that had been cross-braced the last time the league had confronted Corvus and almost lost. The big talya swept her with a rude gaze. “Nice shoes.”

“Thanks. They don’t come in a size eleven.”

He smiled, sharp as his missing gauntlets. “Size fifteen, sugar.”

She didn’t think she could take Ecco, even without his gauntlets. She didn’t want to take him on. If she never saw another single drop of talya blood . . . She tossed her head, wishing she had the dreads to lash around. “I’m meeting Jonah later.” There. That would explain the sandals and shut the man up.

She gestured at the box in his arms. “Moving out?” She managed to infuse it with the tone that said, Running away? Insults would make him glad to see her go.

“Leftovers from last night,” he said. “Sera wanted to run some experiments. She thinks Corvus was up to something superbad.”

“No doubt,” Nim muttered.

“Worse than usual. Tenebrae, encased in glass . . .” He shook his head. “Strange way to keep them fresh.”

“I’m sure Sera will figure it out,” Nim said. “If you’d take her the stuff sometime this century.”

Ecco’s gaze fixed on her again. “We’ve got forever.”

Not necessarily. Corvus had said “tonight.” “Trust me, us female talya aren’t that patient.”

Ecco snorted. “Seems to me you girls put up with far too much.”

“Don’t worry,” she said softly. “Someone will find you one day.”

His face tightened. The broken glass chimed in the box under his grip. He turned on his heel and left.

That had been almost too easy. A man rocking gauntlets shouldn’t wear his heart on his sleeve.

The heat tried to flatten her as she stepped out onto the street. Luckily, her spiky heels kept her upright. A passing truck driver honked his horn, and she flipped him off. It was good to be out in the city.

She walked the streets like a hooker looking for a trick. And it would be a trick to see how Corvus contacted her. How would he even find her? He couldn’t exactly call the @1 number and ask for her.

Somehow, come night, she didn’t think he’d have a problem. Which left her with a few hours to kill.

Suddenly, she wished she hadn’t used quite that phrase.

She couldn’t even shop, since she hadn’t taken Jonah’s wallet. Well, she’d taken twenty bucks, but only so she could catch a cab to her doom, as soon as she figured out where her doom was.

In the meantime, the new sandals were wearing a blister on her heel. She needed a place to sit while the demon did its patch work. So she walked to the Congolese diner.

The dinner rush was on, but there were still a few open seats at the counter. She slid onto the stool and reached for a menu. Ms. Mbengue had the page in her hand before she could complete the gesture. “Thanks.”

The woman nodded. “Coffee?”

Nim hesitated. “Chai, please.” She concentrated on the list of odd items so she didn’t have to meet the other woman’s gaze. “I guess I’ll have whatever Jonah ordered before.”

“That was breakfast. Would you like to try something more substantial, since it’s getting late?”

Nim let the menu drop, wondering at the edge in Ms. Mbengue’s voice. Nothing so simple as jealousy; that was easy to recognize. Not pity or disgust either; those were easy to pick out too. The woman was watching her with something like . . . yes, it was kindness.

Nim wrinkled her nose. She had enough kind women in her life now to start her own support group. Somehow she doubted they’d give her a “you go, girl” cheer on her plans for the evening. “Whatever you think is good.”

Ms. Mbengue gave another brisk nod. “It’s good you trust Mr. Walker. He is a good man.”

“Good, good, good,” Nim muttered under her breath as the woman bustled away. That’s exactly why she had to track down the evil djinn-man on her own. Because the good man had rubbed off on her, got his goods all over her, and see where she was now?

Unfortunately, blaming Jonah for loving her didn’t make her feel any better than sitting at his favorite diner without him. Bad enough she had to save his life—a life he was so damned eager to throw away because of her mistake. She also wanted to save him from loving a woman who could never be good enough.

Ms. Mbengue brought a bowl of steaming stew along with the chai, iced this time. The woman hovered, until Nim realized she was supposed to give some indication that the choice was to her liking. She took up her spoon with a silent sigh. Her breath kicked up the scent of potent spices. Oh, so that was how kind the lady was.

Nim tweaked her demon to standby and took a sip.

Fires of hell. Tears sprang to her eyes, too quick for the demon’s healing.

“Jonah prefers his pepper soup with more chili sprinkles.” Ms. Mbengue hefted a small pot of red flakes. “Would you . . . ?”

Nim gestured silently at her bowl, and Ms. Mbengue added a pinch. “He says it brings out the flavor.”

“The flavor of hot?” Nim asked hoarsely.

Ms. Mbengue smiled. “Ginger and tamarind.”

“Ah yes. I taste it now.” She’d never taste anything again, since she’d been told the teshuva couldn’t restore what had been permanently removed, like her tongue.

Ms. Mbengue gazed over her head. “Doesn’t the day feel cooler now?”

“Pretty much anything would be cooler right about now.”

The woman’s smile deepened. “Try the tea.”

Nim did as ordered. To her surprise, the chai, lightened to the color of Jonah’s hair with milk and sugar, took the edge off the burn. “It’s very good.” Good, good. Just like him. She wished she could kick herself, but she might cause real damage with these heels.

“You’ll have to bring him in for a last supper before we close next month. My landlord stopped in, and it seems the end has come at last.”

If only she knew. Nim took another sip of soup and wondered if breathing fire might distract the sharp-eyed Ms. Mbengue. “I’m sure Jonah will come by.”

“He’s a man who deserves to find a light in his life.” The woman hesitated. “You could choose much, much worse.”

“I’m about to,” Nim assured her.

Someone in the kitchen called urgently.

“We all have fires to put out,” Nim said. “Maybe that’s what you meant by ‘light.’ ”

Ms. Mbengue gave Nim a sharp look, the kind that reminded her the woman shared her origins with the executioner’s sword and the four-pronged throwing knife. “No, I meant the light in his eyes when he looked at you.”

Nim stared down at the pepper flakes floating in her bowl like mocking malice eyes. “He was hungry.”

“He’s in love. Don’t you care?”

The rush of heat that went through Nim had nothing to do with the spices. Oh, she cared. For once, she cared so much about being the warrior he needed and the woman he craved.

As always, the only way she knew was to put her body on the line. “Enough chilies will burn it out of him.”