Demon Fire (The Angel Fire Book 3)

by Marie Johnston

  Part of him suspected it was best he didn’t know a damn thing. Those pretty eyes of hers grew haunted when things were the quietest between them. She couldn’t forget what had happened, and she couldn’t fathom how her future was going to turn out.

  Their stories converged at that point.

  Boone was avoiding her.

  She couldn’t blame him. He probably thought she’d passed out in order to get him close and try to have sex with him. Why, she didn’t know, but she couldn’t explain what she’d done either. She’d woken up, he’d been close enough that his heat had blanketed her body, and her internal filter had failed.

  Shame filled her. She knew he didn’t want her. The last two weeks, the brush of his gaze had caressed her body at various points during the day. He might be attracted to her, but he wasn’t acting on it for a reason.

  She was attracted to him, and she’d acted on it.

  Scrubbing a hand over her face, she swung her legs off the end of the bed. What could she do to pass the day? She’d kill for a TV.

  The books Boone had didn’t interest her, but each minute ticked by slower than the one before. There was nothing more to clean. No more new snow had fallen. The snares and traps were his territory, regardless of whether he taught her about them or not. He’d escaped outside for most of the last week, not coming back until well after dark.

  That ruled out conversation. A little dry military history, then. It couldn’t be any more boring than she’d found her own realm’s military history to be.

  She crossed to the island and sank to the floor. She read the titles. Staring at the log walls might be better. Choosing one book, she flipped through it. Too many names of generals and wars from the early twentieth century. Not a chance.

  She selected another. As she paged through it, an envelope fell out. Without thinking too hard, she put the book down and withdrew the papers. Not papers. Pictures.

  A beautiful family looked back at her. A man with a strong jaw covered by a short, trimmed beard had a wide smile, his arm slung around a beautiful brunette. Between them was a little boy, about six or seven.

  She blinked. Blinked again.

  Her breath stalled. The man was Boone. His hair was cut short, trimmed on the sides, longer on top, and he wore a regular navy blue polo. The little boy looked just like him.

  She put her fingers to her lips. Tears burned the backs of her eyes. When Boone had mentioned his wife, she’d assumed the woman was either gone or dead. She’d assumed he must’ve loved her very much and the pain had driven him into the wilderness.

  But a noble man like Boone wouldn’t leave a kid. So that meant—

  The door swung open. Boone’s gaze landed on her and darkened. “What are you doing?”

  There was no use hiding what she found. She held up the photo.

  The same stone jaw in the photo worked side to side, but he said nothing.

  “I was bored and thought I’d try to find something to read,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.” She was sorry for so much more than unearthing his hidden pain.

  “Put it back.” His words could cut diamonds.

  She did as he asked. He remained as still as the cold mountains outside. She clasped her hands, not knowing what to say, how to make this moment better.

  He didn’t move. “That was my wife. And son.”

  “They’re gone.”

  One nod. “Dead.”

  “What happened?” Would he tell her?

  He crossed to the stool that was the farthest away from her and dropped on it. He hadn’t removed his coat or boots. “I was an undercover agent.” His hand flicked toward the book she’d stuck the picture inside of. “That was taken three years before I went under with a biker gang. I was gone a lot. We lived in a small town near Chicago, but when I got the assignment, I took on another name, got an apartment in the city, and didn’t get home very often.”

  “She was upset.”

  Another single dip of his head. “I used to ride before we met and had complained a few times that I wasn’t able to do it as much after Adam was born. I think she thought I was having the time of my life, riding free and sleeping around. I was pretending to be an office stiff by day and part of a biker gang at night, working to gather evidence of a drug ring.”

  “It must’ve been dangerous.”

  He shrugged. “It was soul-sucking more than dangerous. I was good at my job, confident I’d get the information I needed, but an operation we thought would take a few months lasted over a year. Phoebe had always been . . . unsure of herself. Insecure.” He drifted off and stared at the wood plank floor. “The irony was that while I was out trying to fight the war on drugs, she was taking them at home. She was storing them above the same sink our son brushed his teeth at.”

  Sierra had lost her world. Boone had lost so much more.

  “Every time I came home, I noticed she was worse than before. Nothing obvious at first. Her behavior was insidious, a little more erratic with each visit. The house a little messier than before. She’d have more emotional outbursts. Adam would beg me not to leave.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. His guilt tore at her heart.

  “Adam told me about the pills. I confronted her, we argued, she cried and promised to get help. I thought that was the end of it. I dropped Adam off with Phoebe’s parents and went to work. Turned out Phoebe was so upset with me, so desperate for her fix or for revenge or for . . . I don’t know. She sold me out.”

  “Oh, Boone.”

  His gaze was rooted in the past. He blinked and then unbuttoned his flannel. Underneath was a white shirt much like the one he’d shredded for her to use. She hadn’t seen him without the flannel. Ropes of muscle lined arms decorated with black tattoos. She hadn’t had a clue that he had tattoos, pieces that would take her several minutes to trace if he’d quit moving. His biceps bulged as he tugged the white shirt over his head.

  She didn’t know what he was doing, but his moves weren’t sexual.

  A long scar ran down the left side of his abdomen. He outlined it with his finger. “I was shot with my own gun. Then they killed Phoebe with it. While I was operated on for ten hours and nearly bled out, they hunted down my son to send a message. I left as soon as the trial was over.”

  A living nightmare. No wonder he was so restless when he slept. How long had he suffered before finding peace? “Human trials take years.”

  He shot her a questioning look. “As opposed to what other trials?”

  Mine.

  It took a moment before she realized what she’d said wrong. She couldn’t afford a slip like that. Around Boone was okay. He might think it was odd, but in public, the wrong being could hear her. “It must’ve been awful.”

  He dipped his head. “It was hell. I bought this cabin after Phoebe and I got married. I’d come hunt some years, and I kept it so I could take my son one day.” He trailed off and stared at his hands.

  “Are you from Montana?”

  “Not from Green Valley, but from far enough away that they don’t know who I am.”

  Isolation had been her punishment, but he craved it. His honesty staggered her and fueled a healthy dose of guilt in her belly. “Boone, I got people hurt too.” His gaze shot to hers but it was her turn to be lost in the past. She’d mentioned it before, but he hadn’t pressured her. She wished she could give him the whole story. Let him decide if he should kick her out on the spot. “I thought I had no choice and I thought . . . I dunno. I thought I’d get away with it and no one would know.”

  “But it didn’t happen like that.” It wasn’t a question.

  “No,” she whispered. “Someone I admired very much got hurt and lost his job because of it. And I betrayed a lot of people close to me. I’m not proud of the fear that made me do it. There’s no way to take back what I did. I had a job where I did a lot of good and I guess all I want is to get back to where I can do more good in the world.”

  “It’s not as simple for the ones you hurt.�
��

  She dropped her head. “No. It’s not.”

  It wasn’t enough to blend into the human world and exist. She wanted to keep stoking the good side of her. Her life would mean more than secrets and betrayal. She would never know how Director Richter was doing. If he’d been able to move on with his life, or move beyond his hatred for her. Would he find his own peace like Boone had?

  Boone cleared his throat and looked around the room like he was seeing it for the first time in a long while. “What do you like to read?”

  She sat straighter, the stretch in her muscles not painful like it used to be. They were both trying to move past their experiences. He didn’t know the details of what she’d done, but he wasn’t going to hold it against her. She appreciated it more than he could know, but she would do well to remember that she didn’t deserve his consideration.

  “Programming for Dummies.” She allowed herself a small smile. “I already read that one.”

  “You were into computers?”

  “Yes. I don’t have a hobby otherwise.”

  “You’re good at cooking.”

  It wasn’t a hobby though. It was a way she could contribute. Otherwise, she’d been a warrior. Her life had been work. She’d spent her days monitoring humans and reporting to her team. “Cooking is fine, but there’s two of us.”

  “We can go to town again later this week.”

  She shouldn’t go and risk getting noticed by more creatures from Daemon, but she had to live this life. Navigating her place in this world was a necessity. She only wished she knew the cost.

  Chapter 5

  “Ohmigosh, look.”

  Boone held back a groan as Sierra scrambled to her hands and knees to peer into a hole he’d drilled into the frozen bed of water. How could an ass be that fine through a layer of long johns and snow pants?

  He’d poured his damn heart out three days ago. He hadn’t told anyone his story. His parents were gone. Any friends he’d thought he’d had were absent during his recovery and the trials. Sierra’d had the sympathy in her eyes that he’d been dreading, and then it was gone. She hadn’t treated him differently since.

  They’d gone to town like he’d said they would. She’d waited in the pickup while he’d run into the gas station for bait and other ice-fishing supplies. Out of the garage, he’d dug the auger he’d gotten his first winter in the cabin and the two fishing poles he kept on hand. He’d packed a propane heater and a shelter he could throw up like a tent. Last in the pickup had been a tackle box that had everything else they should need.

  Then he’d driven to one of the two small lakes outside of Green Valley. Three other fishermen had their spots chosen and were hunkered down for the waiting game that was fishing.

  Sierra’s excitement while he set up was as fresh as the mountain air around them. It didn’t faze her that he’d forgotten stools to sit on while waiting for fish to bite. She had used the tackle box and he’d taken the cooler he hoped to fill with a couple of fish. It’d be a nice change from rabbit and pheasant.

  She sat on her knees. “I swear I saw something swim by.”

  “You probably did.”

  She bit her lower lip and leaned back over the hole for one more peek before she rocked back onto the tackle box. Tapping the fingers of her gloves together, she puffed her breath out to make a cloud of condensation. “I’ve tried to think of some hobbies, but you’ll have to help me brainstorm.”

  “You’ve seen the extent of my hobbies. I don’t think I’m the guy to ask.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll be able to tolerate the smell of the bait to give fishing a go.” She wrinkled her nose. “It must be the lack of pollution. My sense of smell is so sensitive now.”

  “You don’t always have to use bait. Figuring out when and where you want to use it is part of the hobby.”

  She pressed her gloved hand against her belly. “We’ll see how I react to catching a fish.”

  “If we catch a fish.”

  “If.” Her innocent smile wormed its way further into his being.

  Alarm bells went off. He should find somewhere else for her. There were places set up for people like her. People with little for identification who needed a fresh start. Did Green Valley have a women’s shelter?

  The thought of dropping her off and leaving her in his rearview made him cranky. Not even the thought of stretching out on his bed instead of a cramped couch cheered him up. His quiet cabin was a little less quiet with her and he didn’t mind. This winter was already better than the last two.

  An hour ticked by with nothing. They lobbed hobbies back and forth. Good ideas, but not feasible for the middle of winter in Montana. Spelunking. Coffee roasting. Fantasy football.

  She laughed. “I’d have to learn a little about football first. It’s the oblong ball, right? Not the round ball?”

  “Soccer?” He chuckled. “I don’t want to stereotype, but what about knitting or art or something?”

  Her eyes twinkled. “Right, because I have boobs, I must like those.”

  A swath of heat ripped through him. He was wearing far too many layers, but he’d need them all to hide his erection if she kept mentioning her breasts. Her winter coat hid them nicely. “I can try to knit with you.”

  “I need something to do without a huge start-up kit. Maybe sketching? I don’t think I’ve drawn anything since I was a kid and even then I only drew daggers.” But then she rolled her lips in like she’d said something wrong.

  “You’re a fantasy nerd? Is that it?” he joked.

  “Busted. A lot of females—uh, girls I grew up with did needlepoint. Though I never had the patience. I’d rather stab someone with the needle.”

  He grinned. “We’ll stay away from knitting needles, then. Video games? My son was getting into them.” His smile almost faded, but talking about Adam didn’t hurt as much as it used to. “Minecraft was all his mother would let him play.”

  “I’ve heard of it, but it’s not exactly a cheap hobby.”

  “True.” Except he’d buy her anything she asked. He filed the information away. “Bird-watching? I can buy a deck of cards.”

  She laughed. “Sure. Let’s start with bird-watching and cards. Those are cheap enough.”

  They shared a grin and it hit him. He was having fun. For the first time in years, he was having a good time. He didn’t need to fish to eat. He was doing it because he wanted to do it with her.

  No one would accuse him of rushing into another relationship. He’d cut himself off from most people for years, but it’d been his choice. Saving Sierra had been a necessity, but letting her stay was a choice. She’d shown him that he was ready to reenter society. But all he wanted to do was stay in the mountains with her.

  Boone had stripped out of his snow pants at the pickup and commented that Sierra should do the same in order to accompany him inside the department store. For a bird-watching book and a deck of cards. Most likely, he wanted her along in case another activity caught her eye.

  What she wanted to do was hide in the pickup and people-watch. More like demon watch. What else could she see? Anywhere she went would have demonic interference. They were a part of the balance in the world—trying to tip the scales in their favor, of course.

  What if Green Valley had a higher concentration? Would she leave? She should. But she didn’t want to.

  The fresh scars on her back were tender, but she could move without risking opening the wounds. Money and identification were a major issue. Leaving Boone’s cabin was the best way to take care of that, but she wasn’t ready yet. Would she ever be ready to leave the quiet haven that was his one-room home?

  He might want his bed back though.

  She was being selfish. Which was why she’d stripped off her snow pants and piled them into the back seat with Boone’s.

  She followed him into the department store. She’d been in much larger ones, buildings so big they’d swallow the whole town of Green Valley. But this one was sizable in its own w
ay. And full of shoppers.

  Boone grabbed a cart from the corral and plowed through. She shoved her hands in her coat pockets in an attempt to look casual as she let her gaze drift from person to person. No demons. Her tension eased.

  Boone paused at the women’s clothing section. Her bras were getting tight; she should get more. Home cooking was packing on more pounds than she’d expected after living off of greasy fast food while deep into missions. Her stellar metabolism had probably gotten cut off with her healing abilities.

  “Do you mind if I grab a couple of . . .” She nodded toward the lingerie section.

  “I’ll go to the game section and look for cards.” Boone spun off, obviously not wanting to hang around the ladies underclothes section longer than necessary.

  Sierra found the last style she’d bought. Basic. White. Cheap. She found the next size up from what she had on and grabbed a couple. Add it to her tab.

  Spinning around, she gasped. A woman had stopped behind her and was perusing the discount underwear bins. A symaster peered out from behind her eyes. He hadn’t spotted Sierra yet, but the woman blocked her path.

  Dammit. She’d have to sneak around it. It’d be too odd if she ducked under the bra display and rolled out the other side.

  The symaster was murmuring, his mouth moving over the woman’s. He wasn’t strong enough to command her, but he was influencing her. The woman’s expression was torn. She clutched a three-dollar pair of panties in her fist. The demon spoke, words only the human could hear. Her hand drifted closer to the purse at her side.

  The demon wanted her to steal the underwear.

  Don’t do it. Sierra glanced around. A store employee was walking down the main path between the aisles. Exactly what the demon wanted, for the woman to get caught stealing. It’d eat at her sense of self and the demon would keep doing it until she was beaten down enough for a full archmaster possession.