“Oh.” Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “Thanks.”
God. Why did she have to do that? He’d always found it difficult to be a bastard when someone was polite in return. Even, apparently, if that someone was a demon.
A demon. He hadn’t thought of her in any other way. But she hadn’t gone three years in a hospital without being given a name.
“So you don’t know who you are,” he said. “But I can’t call you ‘demon’ in public—and I won’t call you Rachel. What should it be?”
“Ash.” She lowered her hand and tested the shape of her teeth with the tip of her tongue. Human again. No fangs. “My name begins with ‘Ash.’ I don’t know the rest of it.”
“Ashley?”
She looked heavenward, as if searching for patience—or guidance. An odd place for a demon to look. “Why do people assume that I’m too stupid to search through a baby name book?”
“A demon baby name book?”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but he sensed the anger that had forged her teeth into points had already passed. Unlike his anger, however, the emotion hadn’t turned to amusement. It had simply faded to nothing.
“I’ll look for one,” she said, and turned to speak to the attendant when he appeared at her window.
Nicholas reached into the backseat for his coat. But although nature called, he waited before opening the door, studying her. Ash. Strangely, it didn’t feel odd to think of her that way. Though she looked exactly like a tattooed version of Rachel, Ash acted nothing like her—and aside from those few gestures that had thrown him when he’d first seen her, Nicholas hadn’t experienced a single moment of confusion between the demon and the woman. Did the tattoos make such a difference? Or was it the whole package?
He waited until the attendant moved off. “What about the symbols? What do they say?”
“What symbols?”
“Your tattoos.”
“I don’t know.” Almost absently, she lifted her hand to rub her chest. The largest glyph had marked her there, he remembered. An intricate design between perfect breasts. “Should I be able to read them? Because I can’t.”
He didn’t know. And they likely wouldn’t have a chance to ask another demon. “A few Guardians can. If we don’t discover any information in Duluth, we’ll e-mail pictures of the symbols to Rosalia and ask what they mean.”
“Oh.” That faint hope brightened her face again. “That would be very helpful. Thank you.”
Shit. With a sharp nod, he shoved against the door, escaping the SUV’s warmth and plunging into the icy air. So polite again. He wished she’d stop doing that.
Or better yet—he needed to stop giving her reasons to be grateful.
CHAPTER 6
The omelets were good, and pulling off the highway a few hours later gave Nicholas a chance to stretch his legs, gave him some breathing space. The demon must not have agreed about the food, however, or like and dislike didn’t matter. After only a few bites, she’d set down her fork, scraped her chair back, and stood.
“The taste isn’t familiar.”
She’d stalked away from the table after that announcement, leaving Nicholas to finish his meal alone. Since he was accustomed to eating by himself, her sudden absence suited him. So did knowing that her politeness had gone out the door.
She had, too. From his seat by the window, Nicholas watched her trudge through the foot of snow that hadn’t yet been plowed from the edge of the parking lot. Hood up, hands in pockets, she did an excellent job of acting just like a human bracing herself against the cold. She reached their SUV, then must have remembered that Nicholas had the key fob.
Even from this distance, he could have unlocked it for her by remote. He signaled the waitress for another coffee, instead, and waited to see what the demon would do.
He wasn’t surprised when she simply leaned back against the driver’s side door, and began watching everyone else. She’d done that on the plane, he remembered. In this diner, too, before they’d been served—and she’d managed to unsettle half the people eating here. Some of that effect came from the tattoos; the reaction to the symbols had been visible as they’d come in. Many of the diners turned to look, and others flinched or recoiled. He’d heard more than one mutter about “ruining such a pretty face.”
But most of that uneasiness stemmed from the unwavering, unreadable stare leveled at the person she observed, and that she didn’t glance away when they caught her looking. A few had tried to stare her down in return. Not one of them had succeeded.
If Nicholas hadn’t already been convinced that Ash wasn’t Rachel, the way the demon unsettled everyone would have persuaded him. Rachel had been friendly, outgoing, and eager to strike up a conversation with any stranger just to learn about them. Ash didn’t speak to or approach anyone. Rachel had killer instincts when she invested, but she’d been a negotiator at heart—always trying to find common ground. She began by putting the person at ease. Ash didn’t bother. Rachel pointed out injustices and tried to fix them. She’d have made everyone who’d recoiled from Ash’s tattoos aware of their reaction . . . and she’d have done it gently. Ash didn’t seem to notice, though she must have sensed those same reactions. Apparently, however, she just didn’t care that they’d judged her.
Yet still, she watched them all—and Nicholas didn’t think she stared anyone down for the same reasons he might have. As a tool of intimidation, it had been a useful technique in his business negotiations. After an opponent backed down once, even over something as trivial as eye contact, that person would begin to concede in other ways, too.
He didn’t think Ash looked for concession. He didn’t think she stared to win. She simply watched.
Searching for something familiar? Perhaps. Her lack of emotional response made it difficult to guess exactly what she wanted to gain when she observed someone.
Shit. Difficult to guess? Not at all. She was a demon. And he needed to remind himself that she was probably just looking for their weaknesses.
Fucking stupid, that he needed to remind himself at all. By now, that knowledge should be ingrained.
Maybe Cooper had found something to drive that knowledge home. It was night in England; his investigator should have been able to speak with the nurses and sent his long report by now. How to check his e-mail, yet throw the Guardians off the scent if they were looking for him?
His gaze fell on a sullen-looking teenager in a nearby booth, slouching in his seat and holding a phone between his hands—scrolling through an online social site. Beside him, a harriedlooking woman pored over a map, her finger tracing a southbound route.
Too easy.
He paid the kid fifty dollars for five minutes and the chance to check his e-mail, then quietly covered their lunch bill when he was through.
The demon had been telling the truth. At least, she’d been telling the truth about Nightingale House. The nurses had confirmed that a strange blond woman had lived at the hospital for almost three years—first under the name Mary, because she hadn’t talked at all, then using the name Ash when she’d begun coming round.
Cooper reported that she’d creeped the nurses out, had been the reason they’d both left Nightingale House. Even though Nicholas didn’t get the same impression, that sounded right for a demon—ruining lives, jobs. What didn’t sound right was the patient’s complete lack of emotion and empathy, which both nurses spoke about at length. Demons faked that shit.
Why hadn’t Ash?
He finished his coffee, left money on the table. Outside, the sky had cleared. The bright sun glared over the snow. Ash watched him now, he saw. From within the shadows of her hood, her gaze had fixed on his. He wouldn’t look away first.
She didn’t call out to him as he crossed the parking lot. Madelyn would have, smiling and cheerful—and loud enough to make certain she was heard. Nicky! There you are, love. I thought you’d become lost on the way to the loo! Anything to make a boy blush and squirm, especially if they’d had an aud
ience. Alone, she’d still have been cheerful. So you’ve finally finished eating, have you? Oh, that’s all right, love. Mummy didn’t mind waiting. I don’t have anything more important to do, such as running your father’s business, do I? You obviously know that nothing can be as important as your little stomach, Nicky, because you certainly took your time, ha ha!
God. That had just been the beginning of it, and she hadn’t always been so cheery. As it was, fifteen years had passed before he’d exorcised the sound of her laugh echoing in his mind—a far longer time than he’d actually lived with her. Emotionally and mentally, Nicholas supposed he was still well and truly fucked up. Exorcising her from the face of the Earth wouldn’t change that.
He’d sure as hell feel better after she’d been slain, though. And if this demon—Ash—screwed up any opportunity to destroy Madelyn, he’d take her down, too.
Though he let that determination shine through his emotional shields like a beacon, Ash didn’t look away from him. She didn’t even blink. Christ. Didn’t a demon’s eyes get dry?
Apparently not. She held his gaze until he was practically on top of her, and when she did glance away, he didn’t think it had a thing to do with intimidation, with winning or losing. She simply decided to observe someone else.
He didn’t look around to see who. And though he’d intended to drive the remainder of the distance to Duluth, he couldn’t tolerate the thought of her watching him all that way—maybe learning too much about him. Better that she focused on the road. Taking her hand, he pressed the keys into her palm.
Her fingers twitched, her gaze snapping back to meet his. Startled? So was Nicholas. But she didn’t pull away, and he didn’t let go. He should have let go—and a demon’s touch should have been repulsive, but the warmth of her skin seemed to soak into his. He held on, letting the heat sink into him. Enjoying the feel of it.
Until her eyes began to glow. Jesus. He dropped her hand, pulled away. The cold air must have left him more chilled than he’d realized if the heat of a demon’s skin felt that good. Time to invest in a pair of gloves.
“Your eyes,” he warned her, and within a blink they were blue again. Shaking his head, he started around the vehicle to the passenger side. At this rate, she’d have the Guardians on them by nightfall. Or with Rachel’s face, a few humans.
He waited until she was in her seat. “You need to shape-shift.”
“All right. How?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “No lying. Just answer me directly: Can you shape-shift?”
“I don’t know if I can. But even if I can, I don’t know how.”
Shit. They’d reach Duluth a little before midnight, and she might go unrecognized in the sleeping city. Not so the next morning, when they drove to the Boyles’s house. He could make the trip by himself, leave her at the hotel, but he didn’t trust her that far. Not alone, not where he couldn’t keep an eye on her.
“Rachel lived in a small town,” he said. “You’d be recognized.”
Her eyes seemed to light. Not with crimson, but with anticipation. “Someone might know me.”
“They’d know Rachel, not you. And word would reach her parents that someone had seen her.” Fucked up he might be, but Nicholas wouldn’t do that to them. “They’d try to find you.”
“I want to meet them,” she said slowly, as if just realizing it—and as if she were surprised by the realization. “I want to.”
“Don’t even think it. You can’t. Not looking like that.”
The anticipation in her eyes faded. Anyone else, Nicholas might have felt like he’d kicked a kitten. With this demon, he thought the emotion would have quickly vanished, anyway. No disappointment replaced it.
She studied his face, then looked away to stick the key into the ignition. Over the quiet start of the engine, she said, “They wouldn’t believe I’m not their daughter, is that right?”
“Yes.”
Her amnesia would only make it more difficult to convince them, especially since she couldn’t shape-shift at will—and he’d end up staring down the barrels of Frank Boyle’s shotgun if he electrocuted her in front of them. Seeing the wings and horns might not matter, regardless. If they wanted to believe this was Rachel badly enough, nothing would stop them from doing so.
So why hadn’t this demon taken advantage of that before now? For someone who claimed to be searching for answers, she’d been slow to seek information from the likeliest source.
“Why didn’t you contact Rachel’s parents?”
“What purpose would it serve? They don’t know anything about me.”
“You’re certain of that.”
“If they had any idea that someone who looked like Rachel was alive, they’d have come for me. Nothing would have stopped them. But they didn’t come, so obviously they don’t even know I exist, let alone know who I am.”
She was right. But it didn’t explain how she’d learned that about the Boyles. “You read that on the Internet, too?”
“No. I just know it. It’s like . . . remembering a fact. I don’t realize the knowledge is there until I think about it, but when I do, I’m certain that it’s true.”
So her screwed-up memory treated the Boyles’ love for their daughter as a fact. Knowing the Boyles, Nicholas couldn’t argue that it wasn’t. And since neither Nicholas nor the demon had any idea about how she knew that fact, he dropped the issue.
So did Ash. She sat, looking into the rearview mirror—as she had been for some time, he realized. She’d moved the transmission into reverse, but held her foot on the brake.
“Why are we waiting here?”
She lifted her brows at the image in the mirror. Nicholas turned, looked through the back window. Not much to see. Big rigs idling. Empty vehicles in the parking lot, and others at the station fueling up.
“There’s a dog lying on the seat of that car,” she said. “I’ve noticed that a lot more people in America keep one as a pet. If I got one, I’d seem more normal.”
A dog? Rage blasted through him, so hot and viscous it felt like vomit. This demon thought he’d get her a dog? He’d cut off his legs before putting an animal in her care. Stomach roiling at the thought, he faced forward, jaw clenched. He wouldn’t let her see how her comment affected him. Fuck. Maybe she already knew. Maybe Madelyn had told her.
And she wouldn’t shut up about it. Wouldn’t stop looking at the mirror. “Do you think the family will mind if we take it? They left it in a cold car while they eat. They can’t care too much.”
Nicholas forced himself to speak, and kept his voice even. He wouldn’t give the demon this part of him. “A cold car isn’t going to hurt the dog.”
“Not physically. It’s lonely, though. I can hear it whimpering.”
And he could still hear the pained yip after his mother had cuddled the terrier that had scampered at Nicholas’s heels since he’d learned to walk. He could still see the surprise and horror in her expression when she’d called to him.
Nicky, love, come quickly! Something’s happened to Ringo!
Even as a boy, part of him had understood what she’d done. He simply hadn’t believed it, not for years. Now he knew that even though a demon couldn’t hurt a human, animals didn’t have the same protection—and if a demon could hurt a human by hurting something that he loved, she would.
“Get the idea out of your head and start driving, demon, or I’ll contact the Guardians and have them come for you now.” Their bargain and his soul be damned.
Ash didn’t respond. Nicholas thought she was still looking at the mirror, but no. She was watching him. Probably assessing everything he’d said, cataloguing his weaknesses. Fuck this.
“Drive,” he repeated. “Now.”
With a shrug, she reversed out of their spot. “Did your dog know what she was?”
“What?”
“Did he sense that Madelyn was a demon? Is that why she killed him?” She flicked on the radio and adjusted the heat, turning the temperature all the way to
high. “She did, didn’t she?”
Goddammit. It was his fault, though. He had to do a better job of guarding his responses. “Yes.”
“She killed more than one?”
“No.”
Not that he knew of. One had been enough—and she’d milked it for years. I don’t think it’s a good idea to buy another pet, love, until I’m certain you’ve learned to care for your furry friends a little better. You don’t want him to end up like poor Ringo, do you?
“Was she afraid it would reveal her true nature? Did he bark at her, like in Terminator?” Ash frowned. “They don’t bark at me.”
“That’s because you’re a demon, not a killer robot.” Though Nicholas had to admit he’d once wondered the same thing. He wouldn’t have ever used a dog to help him find Madelyn, not after what she’d done—but he’d wondered why animals didn’t know. He’d only learned the answer after Rosalia had told him. “What is a dog supposed to sense? They don’t have psychic abilities. And you don’t even have an odor, nothing to warn them.”
So they’d come up to her, lick her, and look for love until she broke their necks. Humans didn’t fare much better when they trusted demons, but at least their bones remained intact. Nicholas assumed that the only reason demons didn’t go around killing animals for the fun of it was because they needed to do the same thing Ash wanted to do: appear normal. Too many dead animals would raise suspicions.
That point apparently swept right past the demon. She looked down at herself, as if in confusion. “I don’t have an odor?”
“No.”
She didn’t take his word for it. Tugging out the front of her hooded sweatshirt, she dipped her nose beneath the neckline and sniffed. Jesus Christ. Suddenly, Nicholas didn’t know whether to laugh or to go for some pansy-ass, horrified reaction. What the hell was that? If she wanted to appear normal, sniffing herself in public wouldn’t help her cause.
She didn’t seem to notice his struggle any more than she’d been aware of her gaffe. “I do have an odor,” she said. “But I can barely smell it. It’s nothing like yours.”
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