Demon Marked

God. Nicholas shook his head. He couldn’t let himself do that. He couldn’t go back to those few months when he’d cared for her, as much as he could care for anyone. It hadn’t been love, but when this demon woke up, it would twist any available emotion, and those memories brought his guilt and his grief too close to the surface. So he couldn’t think about Rachel.

And he had to remember that every word coming from a demon’s mouth was a lie designed to mislead him —or a truth designed to fulfill some other destructive goal. He couldn’t risk listening to her, or believe anything she said.

He only needed to know if this demon was Madelyn. If she wasn’t, he’d slay her.

Or he’d use her to find Madelyn . . . then slay them both.

Three minutes later, the demon opened her eyes. Her gaze immediately found him standing at the end of the bed, his crossbow aimed at her chest. Without a word, Nicholas showed her the remote in his left hand, his thumb resting on the red activator button.

Her brow furrowed, but she caught on quickly. Her fingers flew to the heavy rectangular battery at her neck.

“It’s an explosive collar,” Nicholas said. “If you move, your head is gone.”

Lies. It would only stun her and give him time to capture her again. He didn’t mention that the broadheads of his crossbow bolts would detonate on impact. She’d discover that for herself if he had to use one.

She nodded and looked down at her naked form. No shock or embarrassment registered on her features. Rachel had always been a bit nervous when they’d undressed. This demon’s lips tilted, but he wasn’t certain if that faint smile indicated amusement. It didn’t seem to indicate much of anything.

Of course, Nicholas’s reaction to the beautiful woman lying naked on the bed wasn’t his typical response, either. No thoughts of sex intruded—only a sharp awareness that this demon might have killed his mother and driven his father to suicide.

Unexpectedly, she didn’t seem interested in trying to arouse him. She didn’t adopt a seductive posture; he couldn’t detect a hint of suggestion in her movements or her expression. Her clothes simply reappeared. She began to rise from the bed, but froze when he followed her up with the crossbow.

“I knew handguns were hard to come by in England,” she said, sitting at the edge of the mattress. “I didn’t realize crossbows were easier to find.”

“A gun won’t kill you.”

“It wouldn’t?” She glanced down at her chest, as if imagining a bullet slamming into it.

Nicholas imagined it, too—all too clearly. This demon would bleed. It would feel pain. Then it would heal. Rachel hadn’t. She’d thrashed and choked on her own blood, and nothing that Nicholas did to help had—

No. Determinedly, Nicholas forced that memory away. Within seconds of this demon waking, he was already thinking of Rachel. This had to be what she’d wanted.

He wouldn’t play her games. “You know a gun can’t kill you.”

“No. I didn’t know.” She tilted her head as if taking his measure. Just like Rachel. “If you know I can’t be killed by a gun, then you know who I am?”

“You’re not Rachel.”

“No, I’m not,” she agreed. “I don’t know why I look like her. Or why I feel as if I should remember something. Perhaps this is her body, and there is an imprint of her memories in my brain? I don’t know. I hoped that you would.”

Playing dumb. Six months ago, Nicholas might not have known what the demon was doing. Then he’d met Rosalia, a Guardian who could have given a demon lessons in extracting the information she wanted without offering any of her own. Thanks to Rosalia, he recognized this tactic: The demon pretended ignorance to discover how much he knew. She couldn’t physically fight him, and so her only power came from possessing more knowledge than he did. So she was trying to figure out what lies to tell.

Nicholas was just as interested in seeing what lies she tried to spin when he didn’t give her anything first. “What do you know?”

She answered more easily than he’d anticipated. “That almost three years ago, Madelyn St. Croix brought me to a private psychiatric hospital and left me. I don’t remember where I was before that. I don’t remember anything from before that.” If that frustrated her, she gave no sign of it. “And until a few months ago, I didn’t care. Now I do. I want to know who I am, what I am. And I think you might have the answers.”

Weren’t demons better liars than this? She’d barely gotten into her story, and already he saw holes in it.

“You have no memory, but you recalled Madelyn’s name?”

“Not until a month ago. I looked up pictures of Rachel Boyle’s associates online, and recognized Madelyn as the woman who brought me to Nightingale House.”

Nightingale House. Jesus. No question that this demon either was Madelyn or connected to her.

When Nicholas had been a boy, she’d had his father committed to Nightingale House—and it had destroyed his business, his reputation, his life. It had been Madelyn’s first step in driving him toward suicide.

Fucking demons. His finger tightened on the crossbow trigger. As if she heard the movement, her gaze fell to his hand.

“I’d be grateful if you wouldn’t,” she said. “I’d rather not die.” Bullshit. She didn’t sound grateful or concerned.

“What happens if you die?” He let curiosity lighten his tone, as if he was considering pulling the trigger just to find out. Let her sweat. “Do you return to Hell?”

“I don’t know.” She watched him steadily. No sweating. Dammit. “Nicholas, I need your help. Somehow, I’m connected to Madelyn St. Croix, just as Rachel was. And your mother—”

“She’s not my mother,” he stated flatly. The idea sent fury through his veins, but he wouldn’t let her see that.

Her brows rose. “Then who is she?”

“A demon.”

“A demon,” she echoed. Something sparked in her eyes. Excitement ? Whatever it was, the emotion quickly vanished. “Is that what I am?”

“Yes.”

“And you are, too? You seem to suffer the same lack of affect that I do.”

The demon probably intended that observation to hurt him, to make him question his humanity, but to Nicholas, it only showed that she couldn’t read his emotions. Good. Rosalia’s tutelage had paid off there, too. She’d taught him to guard his mind—and obviously she’d done it well enough, as this demon couldn’t sense anything that he didn’t want to give her.

“I’m human,” he said.

“How can you tell?” Her gaze searched his face, as if looking for the differences. When he didn’t answer, she asked, “Was Rachel a demon, too?”

Oh, that was clever. Introduce doubt about Rachel, throw him off-kilter. Too bad Nicholas had already considered the possibility that Rachel had been Madelyn’s lackey all along.

Considered the possibility and discarded it. He’d been skinto-skin with her too many times. She’d been human—and the only reason the idea had ever occurred to him was because it could assuage his guilt. If she’d been a demon and her death had been a setup designed by Madelyn, then Nicholas had nothing to be sorry for. An attractive thought, but not true. He preferred to live with his regret rather than blame Rachel.

“Try again,” he said.

She didn’t. Almost dismissively, she looked away from Nicholas and scanned the room. “Are any of Rachel’s things still here?”

“No.” He had a few items, including the overnight bag she’d packed for the weekend they’d intended to spend together—Madelyn had shot her before they’d left town. The rest of Rachel’s belongings had been returned to