Jessa Slade: Forged of Shadows

Jilly ground her teeth together. While she never thought she could keep the kids safe from every threat that faced them, she’d always believed she at least knew what the threats were. Gangs and drugs. Homelessness, lack of education, and early parenthood. Missed opportunities and bad choices.

But demons?

How could she protect them from demons ? Real demons, not the metaphorical kind. Apparently, she hadn’t even been able to protect herself.

She flexed her chilled fingers, wanting to reach into her pocket for the box cutter, knowing it was pointless. She glared up at the man beside her. “Okay, what do I do? How do I kill the . . . the malice? How do you knock the head off an incorporeal being?”

That brought his aloof gaze back down to her. His lips twitched, finally giving his chiseled features a sign of life. “You can’t. But don’t worry about the house tonight. That whiff you’re catching is the smell of drained malice. My people have been keeping the block clean since we started looking for you. All that’s left is the stink.”

She nodded once stiffly. “Well, thanks, then.”

He cocked his head. “That’s hard for you to say, isn’t it? I thought that’s one of the first things you should teach a kid, how to say ‘thank you.’ And ‘please.’ ”

The way his tone dropped half an octave sent a flush through her. She glowered. Dee would have pegged that as a come-on. But come-on or criticism, she wasn’t interested. Never mind the eerie sense of familiarity that kept her measuring his body against hers.

She cared only about the kids. If Andre had faced those real demons, they needed her more than ever. “Will the monsters come back here?” She bit at her lip. “Will they follow me?”

“Maybe. If they do, we’ll take care of it. There’s a device we can install—an energy sink—that will lessen the negative vibes in the future.”

She nodded, didn’t even bother saying thanks again. He didn’t seem influenced by her gratitude or lack thereof. He didn’t seem affected by much of anything—a real tough guy. Remote and composed. The worry nibbled at her that she was going to owe him. Big-time.

She studied the building a moment, the front facade a checkerboard of small windows, some of them lit even this late. Or early, depending on which side of sleep she considered herself. Teens kept strange hours.

“You said your people brought Dee and Iz back here safely?”

“Yes.”

She spun on her heel and stalked away.

After a few steps, he caught up with her. “You’re not going in? You’re just going to believe me?”

She grinned at the note of shock in his voice, glad to have thrown him off at least half a step. “Dee’s room light is on. She’s fanatical about her privacy, so I’m going to assume it’s her and that Iz made it back with her.” She cut a glance his way. “Unless I should think you’re lying to me.”

“We try not to lie. We have enough dings against our souls.”

She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Then there’s nothing more I can do for them tonight. Except maybe bring down more monsters. I’m going home.”

“It’s a long walk. I’ll call a ride.”

She rocked to a halt. “You know where I live?”

“I did save you from certain death,” he reminded her. As if that was an excuse for stalking.

Her indignation soon bled away. She supposed it was a damn good excuse.

She said nothing as he called from his cell. Within a minute, a dark sedan pulled up. Not a cab. “Your people again?”

He nodded and held open the door for her. She hesitated, but what was the point? She felt wrung out by the night’s oddities and the sneaking realization that there were more dangers facing her than climbing into such a carefully nondescript car with such a strange man.

“You could have murdered me already, right, and left my body in the alley? I mean, if you’d wanted to. No one could have stopped you.”

“Yes, I’m an unholy powerful fighter. No, I wouldn’t have left your body anywhere. I’m unholy powerful but also surprisingly tidy.”

She noticed he didn’t disavow the murder part. She huffed out a long sigh and climbed into the backseat.

Liam settled beside Jilly, conscious of her heat near him in the closed space. And her scent. No perfume for the punkette pixie, just the wet leather of her boots and the waft of some fruity hair gel when she pushed back her hood. And the faintest hint of something else, something wild. Something just her.

Too bad his teshuva protected him against even the simplest head cold. He didn’t need to be distracted by sniffing after a temptation he knew he couldn’t indulge.

He kept his knees tucked in, careful not to brush against her as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He pulled out a business card and handed it to her.

She looked down at the simple black card with its two lines of white text: a phone number and the symbol @1. “At one?”

“Atone,” he corrected, running the implied letters into a single word. “Possessed humor.”

“Dial the devil at 666-6666?”

He started to correct her because the number on the card was quite ordinary. Then he realized she was joking. As if he’d forgotten where he put it, he dredged up his sense of humor. “That phone number was taken already. I guess evil has a better business manager and marketing department than repentance.”

Her piercing winked at him when she snorted.

On the quiet early- morning streets, the ride to her apartment didn’t take long. They idled, double-parked in front of her building. He wished they could circle the block, keep her beside him. To keep her safe, he told himself.

“What does Andre look like?” he asked abruptly when she reached for the door handle.

She paused. “He’s sixteen. About five-eight, one seventy. Black Latino. Shaved head. Homemade tattoo of a skull on his left calf. Last seen in a dark blue hoodie and jeans. I can get you a recent photo.”

He wondered whether she kept an updated description of every kid in her charge so close to the tip of her tongue. How many did she lose? And how could she be willing to suffer the heartache of not saving them? “If I promise to have my people keep an eye out for him, will you not go looking again?”

She considered long enough that he figured she was going to tell him the truth. “Not tonight.”

“Fair enough.” The demon would ascend soon and she’d be too busy to worry about one missing teen.

Soon she’d be lost herself.

He studied her. “You know we’re not likely to find anything good.”

“If you find anything at all, at least we’ll know. Which is more than we often get.” Her expression was shuttered as she stared out the window at her door.

“You’re already getting better at controlling your emotions.” He tried to sound approving. “You’ll need it.”

She slanted a glance at him, so full of rage his breath caught. A hint of violet flickered in her eyes, as if the aurora borealis had drifted too far south. The demon, coming out to play. “Yay, me.”

“I’ll let you know what we learn. And if you need anything, anything at all, call that number,” he added, knowing she wouldn’t.

She crumpled the business card in her fist. “Sure.” She jolted out of the car and stomped to the door.

Liam watched her go. “She couldn’t be sweet and easy, like Sera?”

Archer slung his arm over the front seat. “You must be talking about a different Sera.”

They both winced as Jilly let herself inside and slammed the door, never looking back.

“I suppose it’s unreasonable to expect a demon to possess a nice person,” Archer continued. “Even angelic forces aren’t really interested in nice people.”