Rans gave the area a quick visual sweep. After I dragged the chair back inside, he locked the door and took up a post next to the building’s single window where he could keep an eye on the entrance to the substation. Meanwhile, I flopped down in the chair and dug into my junk food, interspersing it with swigs of reconstituted orange juice.
“Once you’ve eaten, you should try to get some rest,” he said, without looking away from the window. “I’ll keep attempting to contact Nigellus.”
“How’s your phone battery doing?” I asked. “I borrowed a phone off Edward before I left Hell, but he said it was probably dead after spending several days there. I didn’t get a chance to check it, for obvious reasons.”
“I’m at about sixty percent,” Rans said. “Good to go for some time yet.”
Silence fell. I crunched potato chips and debated breaking it for several minutes before I finally caved.
“So... are we going to argue about me running off again?”
That pulled his attention away from the world beyond the grimy window.
“Why? Would arguing about it change anything?” he asked, as though genuinely curious.
It bothered the hell out of me that the queasiness I felt over the prospect of broaching this topic with him rivaled the queasiness I’d felt when I realized the Fae were coming after us earlier.
“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “Remember, you’re talking to the girl whose entire experience with relationships before now consists of dating a guy for a few weeks, sleeping with him, and then being summarily dumped.”
His sharp blue gaze softened a bit. “In that case, you can rest assured that it is, in fact, possible to want to shake someone until their teeth rattle while also loving them.”
My throat closed up, making it suddenly hard to breathe.
“And don’t worry,” he continued. “I have several centuries’ worth of experience with resisting the urge to act on the teeth-rattling part.”
“I’ll just bet you do,” I managed.
The silence settled again. I swallowed several times, trying to wrestle everything inside me under control.
“I don’t... know how to reconcile all the crazy puzzle pieces of what my life has become,” I tried to explain. “You... my dad... the war... all the people who refuse to just leave me the hell alone, simply because of who my grandfather was—”
A brisk tut-tutting noise came from the corner opposite where Rans was standing by the window, and I stiffened.
“Oh... you poor dear,” said a terribly familiar female voice. “That must be terribly difficult for you, mustn’t it?”
With a gasp, I shoved away from the desk and stumbled to my feet as Myrial stepped forward, emerging from the shadows— the slash of a cruel smile cutting across her striking features.
SIXTEEN
RANS WAS BETWEEN the two of us in an instant, placing me protectively behind him. I hadn’t even seen him move.
“How did you track us?” he asked in a low, dangerous voice, his hand slipping unobtrusively to the small of his back.
From my position behind his shoulder, I saw his fingers rest on a very familiar knife hilt. My experimental salt dagger, I realized with a shock. He’d brought it with him when he’d come to wait for me in the cavern.
Myrial’s smile broadened, the corners of her eyes crinkling merrily. “Ha! Funny you should ask that, bloodsucker. Imagine my surprise when my connection to my dear little granddaughter disappeared behind magic wards a few days ago. Though perhaps someone should have warned her that killing a magician also breaks any warding powered by his magic...”
Edward. I felt rage bubble up in my chest like an erupting volcano as I remembered body parts on the floor and blood on the walls.
“You vicious bitch,” I hissed, feeling angry enough that I was about one second away from grabbing the salt dagger from its sheath at the small of Rans’ back and taking my damned chances with the demon in front of us.
Myrial blinked liquid eyes at me.
“Vicious? Not at all, dear. The silly old coot is safely back in one piece, isn’t he?” She laughed harshly. “You may be part demon, but you’re still an ignorant little whelp. Everything in Hell is about power. Gaining it. Losing it. Taking it. Once you understand that, nothing in the demon realm will remain a mystery to you. But, of course, that assumes you’re going to live long enough to gain such an understanding.”
If I’d been able to focus past my towering rage, I might have recognized why Rans pressed my body closer behind his at Myrial’s words. As it was, it came as a complete shock when the demon popped out of existence in front of us, reappearing an instant later at my side. Her hand shot out, fingers closing around my upper arm like claws.
I heard Rans’ snarl of animal fury the instant before the interior of the grungy outbuilding disappeared, melting away into blackness.
* * *
When reality returned, we were outside... and Rans wasn’t with us. I ripped my arm free of Myrial’s grip and looked around frantically. Briefly, I registered that the advancing storm clouds still roiled across the sky, covering roughly the same portion of the blue vista as before. Seeing them, I took comfort in the knowledge that I was apparently in the same general area of California as I had been. But that comfort lasted for only an instant.
In front of us stood a collection of perhaps a dozen armed, beefy cops, hands resting on pistol grips and baton handles. And, at their head—Caspian. The Unseelie Fae who’d tried to capture me in St. Louis, throwing my life into chaos. Who’d tortured me in the Fae realm of Dhuinne, before arguing that I should be summarily executed for the crime of having been born to a half-demon mother. Hatred surged inside me.
“You,” I breathed.
“Demonkin,” he replied silkily, his voice caressing the word. “How very
