by Michele Hauf
“I can see Sacré-Coeur,” Jett pointed out with glee. “I love that domed cathedral. I want to go there. It’s been so long. Can we do that next?”
“Of course. But, uh...it is a Catholic church.”
“Yes. So? Oh.” She wrinkled her brow. “Can I enter a place of worship now?”
“Generally? No. But to judge from your ability to wear a sheen with such ease, I believe you might be able to step on holy ground.”
“Good. Then we’ll go there.”
Savin leaned against the window, the sights not as interesting to him as the woman who curiously gazed across the landscape and pointed out the landmarks she recognized.
He had dated many women in his lifetime. For a day or two, a few weeks, sometimes a few months. He’d never had a long-term relationship. Too difficult, considering his line of work. Yet he’d once yearned for simple domesticity with a former lover who had been a shoe model for a famous Parisian designer. She had left him for a stock-market trader.
Savin wanted a relationship. It wasn’t a dirty word to him. When with a woman, he felt good. It wasn’t that she filled him or completed him, but that she gave him a new outlook. And he needed more than his singular glance at life. He was a man who felt better when he could share his life and experiences with another.
But was Jett a person with whom he could hope to become involved? They had a history, and that mattered. But their history involved some pretty wicked stuff. And that mattered, too. They each knew what the other had been through. They understood each other.
Although he wasn’t exactly sure what Jett’s being a Daemonian queen meant. He felt sure she hadn’t told him all. She’d been there twenty years. That was a lot of living. And surviving. He could be thankful she had risen as queen if only for the fact that they might have treated her far better than if she’d been forced to survive on her own and without any status. But to have been on the verge of being forced to breed? The thought of it made him shiver. He was so glad she’d gotten out of there.
She did have power. She wore a sheen right now, without seeming difficulty. So she must be strong. He’d felt her strength this morning while making love. He’d fallen into it and had luxuriated in it. And he wanted to do it again.
“What are you thinking about?”
He focused on her gaze and realized she must have been studying him for a while. Her smile was curious. He’d once wondered if her parents had named her Jett because her hair was so black. Not at all, she’d replied. Her father had suggested it, or so they’d told her, because he’d always wanted to fly in a jet.
A father who, apparently, hadn’t been her birth father. Had Jett been sired by a demon? The implications were immense. Not least was the one that made him wonder who her demonic father could be. And was that unknown parent behind her being taken to Daemonia to replace the queen? What motives had been behind that move? Had he merely wanted his progeny to sit the throne?
“Savin?” she prompted. “Are you lost?”
“A little.” He chuckled. “You want to know what I’m thinking about? Us,” he confessed easily.
She blushed as she lowered her gaze and touched his chest.
He placed a hand over hers. “Will you be my queen?” he asked. “I don’t want to worship you or put you on a pedestal. But I’d love to have you in my life. With me. At my side. In my bed. Here, holding hands, doing things we enjoy. Together.”
She nodded.
“I realize you’re only just getting your feet in this realm. Probably there’s lots of guys out there waiting to meet you. And you’ll want to explore and meet them, too—”
She pressed a finger to his lips to shush him. “I’m happy with where I am right now. With you. But are you sure you’re prepared for whatever baggage I come with?”
He shrugged. “We’ve all got baggage.”
“I’m going to wager mine’s a bit heftier than yours.”
“Probably. But I’m the strong one. I can lift a lot.”
She smirked and gave his biceps a testing squeeze. “We’ll see. I’ve been thinking about what you said about them coming for me.” She glanced about, taking in the tourists around them, then lowered her voice. “I have to maintain my sheen. It’ll keep them off my scent.”
“Does it...wear you out? It must be difficult expending the energy.”
“It takes a lot of work. But I’d never want you to see me...like that.”
He stroked the hair over her ear and kissed her forehead. “Have more faith in me, Jett. There’s not a lot that I haven’t seen. I promise I won’t disappoint you. Deal?” He held out his hand, which she clasped and shook.
“Deal.”
“On to Sacré-Coeur?”
“Sure, but can we stop at the Louvre along the way? Do they still have that éclair shop in the gallery?”
“I’m glad you’re getting your appetite back. I’m not sure, but we will find out.”
* * *
They did still have the éclair shop tucked beside the top of the escalator. Savin treated Jett to a green apple and caramel concoction that had her swooning. She had gotten back her appetite and her penchant for sweets. Everything tasted so good. Was it because she’d had a taste of Savin and that had opened her to all the other delectable treats life had to offer? Most likely.
After the snack, they strolled through the Denon wing, which was crowded with tourists struggling to get a good view of the demure Mona Lisa.
“Remember when we got lost here?” Savin asked as they strolled out from that gallery into the hallway. Jett leaned against the wall to take in the crowd. “It was in one of the galleries with the eighteenth-century furniture.”
“Yes, I remember that daring escapade into the past. We were firmly admonished by museum staff for hiding behind the King Louis XIV armchair. I thought for sure my mother was ready to faint.”
“We didn’t get treats that day,” Savin noted.
“No, but we did get to see the security office. That was an adventure.”
“Right, I remember that now. We played heist for weeks following, plotting methods to steal the Mona Lisa by hiding out in the guard’s room until the perfect moment when we could make our escape.”
His laughter rumbled and Jett clasped his hand, but of a sudden her attention was drawn down the long hallway to a crowd of teenagers dressed in black and chains. Someone brushed her shoulder, muttering “désolé” as he charged into the gallery. A definite feeling of recognition shivered up Jett’s spine. Here, in this place that should hold only good memories, she could not escape the reminder that she was not the human she wanted to be. Would she ever be?
“I need to get out of here.” She quickly strode off, knowing Savin would follow, and not wanting to converse when yet another accidental connection with a stranger could tease at her darkness.
The exit was just ahead. Even as Savin called after her, Jett picked up her pace. She fled upward, taking the twisting stairs to the glass pyramid aboveground, then exited out into the cloudy afternoon. Inhaling deeply the brisk air, she closed her eyes and caught a palm against her chest.
You are weakening, her darkness whispered. You can stay strong if only you’ll keep me at the fore.
Jett shook her head. She didn’t want to do that. She would not.
Why are you making this so difficult?
Savin touched her shoulder and bent to meet her gaze. “What happened in there?”
“Sorry, I had to get out as quick as possible. There were so many of them. I could feel them brushing my skin. It prickled intensely.”
“Demons,” Savin confirmed. “I sensed them. But then, they are always near. I’ve become oblivious. I obviously don’t feel their presence like you.”
“It’s like walking through a cloud of mosquitoes,” she said, knowing it wasn’t the best way to explain it. “I’d love
to slap them away, but then my identity might be revealed to them.”
“Why didn’t they react to you as you did them?”
“I’m wearing a sheen, Savin.”
“Right. I need to do a better job at keeping alert for them. I can steer you away when I know. I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I want to keep you safe, Jett.”
“I love you for that.”
He smirked behind her fingers, then kissed the tips of them. “Should we head to a cell-phone store and get hooked up?”
“Yes, it’s time I started acting like the rest of the humans.”
He clasped her hand and kissed it. “You are human. Don’t forget that.”
They strolled out from the Louvre courtyard, footsteps crunching the crushed limestone, but Savin’s phone rang when they broached a tourist-crowded sidewalk. He answered and stepped a few feet away from Jett, slamming a hand to his hip as he spoke in low tones to the caller.
She tilted her head to listen, but it was too crowded to hear, and cars drove by, honking their horns at some emergency she couldn’t guess at. From Savin’s stiff posture and tightening jaw, she sensed whatever he was being told was not good.
Finally, he shoved the phone into a pocket and reached out for her. She took his hand and he pulled her close. “They’ve broken through again,” he said.
And Jett’s heart dropped to her gut. She didn’t have to ask what that meant. The rift had been reopened. They were coming for her. She knew without doubt.
Daemonia would not rest until its queen had returned.
Chapter 16
Savin wanted to go directly to talk to Ed. And when Jett volunteered to walk home alone again, he didn’t argue. He needed the distance, actually.
She was, or had been, a queen. What were the implications of that? Would Daemonia send troops after her through the newly reopened rift? It was something he had to keep in mind.
The two of them...had something. It was a beginning. A new chapter to their lives. And yet a strange plot twist had been introduced. His best friend, survivor of the most heinous horrors, was a demon queen.
Those demons who escaped Daemonia and caused trouble in the mortal realm then became his problem. Not that Savin expected Jett to cause trouble. Ah hell, so he’d already taken the leap to believing she was dangerous?
He should probably tell Ed about Jett. But then, would the man want to send her back? Even if she had taken on demonic attributes, she didn’t belong in the Place of All Demons. Jett was an innocent. She belonged in the mortal realm. With him.
Up on the sixth floor, Savin strode into Ed’s office. The clean interior boasted black marble walls and the entire outer wall was lined with windows. A massive conference table stretched half the length of the room. Ed’s desk sat before the windows. On shelves along one wall were interesting objects that Savin knew were magical artifacts Ed had either collected or been given. Edamite Thrash’s girlfriend was a witch and apparently he was smitten.
Ed stood waiting for Savin, leaning against his desk, arms crossed high over his chest. His slicked-back black hair revealed tattoos that crawled up his neck. On his hands he wore the ever-present half gloves, which exposed his fingers, but covered the poisonous thorns on his knuckles inherent to all corax demons.
“I just finished interrogating a bi-morph,” Ed said.
Savin nodded. Those sorts were mighty ugly. But they had a strange penchant for lemons. He suspected, now that he got a whiff of the air, that Ed had employed that tangy treat as a means to twist the screws.
“The captive seems to know that there is only one means to securely close the rift to Daemonia.”
“Which is?” Savin asked.
Sighing, Ed stood upright and splayed out his hands. “Apparently, one of the legion queens has gone missing. And until she’s back where she belongs, upon her throne in Daemonia, the rift will never seal.”
“A queen of Daemonia.” Savin rubbed his jaw. What the hell? And Jett just revealing to him that she was once a queen? How to play this one? He wasn’t going to lay out all the cards until he knew if he could trust Ed. But he hated lying to his friends. “Are you familiar with such royalty?”
“I know every realm has its various royalties. There are dozens of legions in Daemonia. Like countries here in the mortal realm. The Casipheans—whom I’m most familiar with—descended from angels. But they are a dying breed. And the bi-morph didn’t think this specific queen was Casiphean.”
“So there’s many?”
Ed shrugged. “Dozens of queens, yes. But only one is missing with whom we need concern ourselves. I’ve put in a call to Certainly Jones. He knows everything. And if he doesn’t, he can find the answers in that crazy library of demonic lore in the Archives.”
Savin had been thinking the same: to ask CJ what he knew.
“For now,” Ed continued, “I’m going to call it and put out a hunt for a demon queen. There certainly can’t be many running about Paris. In fact, I’m sure there can be but one.”
And right under their noses. Shit. This was not how Savin wanted things to go down. But... “You need my help?”
“Thought you didn’t hunt demons.”
“I don’t, but I can do whatever you need.”
“For starters, there’s a bi-morph in the basement waiting for reckoning.”
“Will do.” Savin rubbed his jaw, considering the information about Jett.
“Female problems?” Ed asked.
“Huh?”
“You’ve got that look. You got a woman that’s making you smile and frown at the same time.”
“Isn’t that what they’re supposed to do? Drive us men crazy?”
“In theory. But the good ones will do it with relish and make you love them even more for all the ups and downs.”
“You and your witch have ups and downs?”
“Once in a while. She wants to travel and I’m happy right here in Paris. I’ve got a city to look after. Not that I’m doing a very good job of it lately.”
“The demon queen will be found,” Savin said. “And until she is, we’ll have to batten down the hatches and keep a close eye on the rift. Can CJ put another hex on it?”
“Yes, but it’s like slapping a flimsy plaster over a fatal wound.”
“Right. Maybe I can do some asking around.”
“About what?”
Savin shrugged. “You never know. I’ll talk to people I know. See what information they might have on the local demon scene and if there’s a queen wandering about we’re unaware of. If she’s powerful, she could put a sheen over herself that would—” Hell. Was he really going to lie to Ed?
“That would what?”
“Huh? Oh. Well, I just think she could walk right by us and we’d never know.”
Ed’s cell phone rang and he turned to answer it. He spoke to someone with half his gaze toward Savin. “Really? All bowed down?...Thanks. Did you get a description?...Yes, do that. Bye.”
“What’s up?”
“News on the queen already. Apparently, she showed up at l’Enfer last night.”
L’Enfer was the nightclub owned by the Devil Himself. It was frequented by demons, mostly, and a few brave vamps and werewolves. Jett had gone there?
“My source said she walked onto the dance floor and everyone bowed before her. Started calling her ‘my liege.’ Most had never seen her before, but they all instinctually knew.”
“Did they get a description?”
“No.”
Whew! Of course, any description would be of Jett sans sheen. He wondered now what that looked like. She didn’t want him to see her in her demonic form? He needed to see her truth.
“I’ll head out to l’Enfer tonight,” Ed said. “We’ve got an escapee queen wandering this mo
rtal realm, and it sounds like no one will be safe until she’s sent back where she belongs.”
Savin nodded, swallowed. “Stay in touch, man. You said the bi-morph is downstairs?”
“In the holding cell. You are billing me for all these reckonings?”
“Hell yes.” Savin nodded and left the man’s office. As he stepped into the elevator, he blew out a breath. He did not like concealing the truth from Ed. He was a friend, and his loyalty to him ran deep.
His alliances were now sharply divided.
* * *
After reckoning the bi-morph back to Daemonia, Savin returned home with his mind at once racing and wanting to shut down. To help Ed and his efforts to keep Paris safe from hundreds, possibly thousands of demons coming into this realm? Or to stand beside Jett, a woman he cared about, yet who might prove his greatest enemy yet?
Jett wasn’t the enemy. She hadn’t asked to be queen. In fact, taking on the role might have been the very thing that had kept her alive all those years. In an odd way, assuming the throne had been a blessing for her.
But how to work for both sides? He couldn’t stand back and not reckon those demons he was called to send back. But he would never reckon Jett. It was unthinkable.
There had to be another solution. And until he discovered what that was, he couldn’t tell Ed he harbored the queen in his home.
He tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter but didn’t call out for Jett. Due to their intimate connection, he sensed that she was not here. She was inside him in a way the Other never could be. And he wanted her there, racing through his veins, tickling over his skin and sighing against his heartbeat.
A glance revealed a torn piece of paper on the counter next to a pen. She’d left a note?
He read the words that were scrawled in that rounded style he recalled she’d used when they were kids. But no heart dotted the i this time. Ran out for something to eat. Back soon!
Savin’s cell phone rang. It was his mom. She sounded excited.
“You’ll never believe who just touched base with me.”
He couldn’t imagine—but then he tried a guess. “Josette Montfort?”