Demon Fire (The Angel Fire Book 3)

by Marie Johnston

  Jagger shook his head. “Lies to protect the guilty again?”

  Boone might not be able to see Sandeen anymore, but the arrogance in Alma’s expression was all his. “It all originated from the same place, angel. It’s called balance. Numen got angel fire, we mined the steel.”

  “Impossible.”

  Sandeen ignored Jagger and continued. “Eons ago, a couple of enterprising parties from each realm struck up a deal. But Numen didn’t hold up their side of the bargain. They took our steel and killed the messenger.”

  From the poleaxed look on the others’ faces, this information was as new to them as it was to him.

  “He lies.” Harlowe rolled over the back of the couch and grabbed Alma by the shoulders. Harlowe’s lips were moving, but Boone heard nothing.

  Alma yanked the multi-tool from Urban and slashed an arc, slicing across the back of Sierra’s wrist.

  She hissed and drew back. Boone was at her side, ready to shield her, but Alma was limp on the couch. Her head back, her snores the only sound in the room. No multi-tool in sight.

  The little knife wasn’t the only thing gone. Boone searched the room. “Where’s Harlowe?”

  “Lowe is still in the Mist,” a familiar man’s voice said. Standing behind Alma was the man Boone had seen, only outside of Alma instead of in, and a couple inches taller than Boone. “I’ll keep this and give poor Alma a rest.”

  He flipped the tool closed and stuffed it in the pocket of his grungy top, a shirt that looked like it’d been picked up from a gutter after a mudslide. The man’s pants weren’t any better.

  And he had wings. Big fucking wings that arced near the top of his head and trailed down to the floor. A glossy midnight black, the feathers were thick and reflected the light in the room. Boone had never seen wings on anything but birds, but damn. Were angel wings as beautiful?

  Boone still held Sierra’s hand in his. Beads of blood collected along the cut but he didn’t have a tissue and wasn’t willing to leave her side to get paper towels. Her blood obviously did something. He’d believed she was in danger before, but the sobering reality sank in farther.

  Harlowe appeared as if she’d just stepped out of an invisible wardrobe out of a child’s story. Was there really another realm? A Mist?

  Urban was standing now, his jaw hanging. Boone had witnessed a creature inside of a human disappear and then reappear—with wings—and for fuck’s sake, were those horns?—but Urban and Jagger were the shocked ones.

  “Impossible,” Urban breathed.

  Sandeen stretched and rolled his neck, his wings lifting and his feathers silently fluttering. “Numen steel. Daemon steel. It apparently doesn’t matter. Either will give me the full pass out of the host.” He stretched out an arm. Muscles and veins stretched and flexed in his forearms.

  “But how?” Harlowe asked. Her gaze kept straying to Sandeen, like she was trying not to look when all she wanted to do was stare.

  Sandeen gave her a sly smile. “If you don’t know, I’m not telling you. Unless you want to work out an exchange.”

  “Ew.” Harlowe’s disgust lacked conviction.

  Sierra tensed. “It’s me. I can do this.”

  “I thought maybe Jameson was special but I think I’ve ruled that out. The Mist will eventually expel anything that isn’t Numen, including fallen. Like a built-in security measure. But if I have unearthly steel and some fallen blood, it’s like a loophole that fools the natural tendencies of the realm to prevent a demon from crossing in its own body. And if any fallen will do, then Numen best rethink its policy in regard to them. Because Andy will gather them up and collect them like porcelain dolls. And he’ll work twice as hard to bait other angels into losing their wings. Just sayin’.” He patted the pocket with the blade. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  He took a step back and disappeared like the air had dissolved him. Harlowe lunged for him but her hand closed around nothing. “Where the hell—” She vanished again, proving the first time hadn’t been his imagination.

  The look Jagger cut Sierra was full of reproach. “He went right into the Gloom. How nice of you to set that up for him.”

  Confusion lined Sierra’s brows. “What are you talking about?”

  “Please, Sierra. You helped us with Stede, but that was for your benefit as much as ours. We were wrong to think we could trust you again.”

  “Trust me?” Fury sparked across her expression and lingered longer than he’d seen before. This was what simmered inside of her, what she didn’t let others see, didn’t let herself feel. “You mean like I believed you all when you said you’d support me during my fall? I sat alone in that cell for weeks.”

  She’d been despondent after he’d brought her back to the cabin. He’d assumed it was from the trauma. When he’d woken from his gunshot wound, at least he’d had his team leader at his side checking on him. Though during the trial, he’d pushed his team leader away again. Everyone else had been keeping their distance already.

  Sierra had been dumped and left alone. Because she’d made a terrible decision.

  After all he’d been through, after what his wife had done to him, he couldn’t bring himself to think it was fair.

  What if . . .

  What if his wife had survived and come to on the floor of that clubhouse and no one had been around?

  Would he think she deserved it?

  Perhaps a few years ago, he’d have thought so. Probably even a few months ago. Now? After seeing those who used to be closest to Sierra shun her for old crimes? He didn’t know.

  Harlowe stepped out of the Mist, her dagger poised and ready to strike if Sandeen was within distance. “He’s not there. He must’ve gone to the Gloom. Can he get back again?”

  “Can he, Sierra?” Jagger snapped.

  “How should I know?” she said.

  Urban was the one who answered. “Because when we arrived in Green Valley, we found you running off with him.”

  “Because he’s the only one who knows the most about what’s going on.”

  “He could’ve been leading you right to Andy,” Harlowe said.

  Sierra shrank in on herself. Anger lit her eyes when Jagger and Urban confronted her, but when Harlowe did it, pain wrote itself across Sierra’s face. The two had been close.

  “He’s a demon. And you were working with him.” Harlowe waved toward Boone. “And you got a human involved. You told him everything about us, and we can only clean up your mess. We seem to be doing that a lot lately.”

  Sierra reared back like she’d been slapped. He stepped in despite knowing he should stay out of it. If the others were behind the curve after all the revelations of the day, Boone hadn’t even made it to the race. This wasn’t his world, it was theirs. He also didn’t know the Sierra they knew, but the Sierra he’d been with for the last two months wanted to do her share. She wanted to help. She wasn’t a criminal.

  He held his hands up, hoping it was interpreted as the universal sign of let’s calm down and that it didn’t mean something else in their world. “Look. Sandeen’s gone. Alma’s exhausted and needs to lie down. Sierra and I are stuck here. I have no one to contact and I’m sure you’ll be monitoring her closely to make sure she’s not talking to anyone either.”

  Jagger’s chest deflated and Urban followed, their aggression deflating. Harlowe wasn’t so quick to let her anger die down, but she was too well trained to let her emotions take over the situation.

  “Fine,” Harlowe said. “Urban and I will continue to monitor Alma. She’ll be an easy host if Sandeen returns. If not, she’ll be confused, and she’s hours from her home.”

  “Maybe she knows something,” Urban grumbled.

  As protective as Sandeen had been of Alma, Boone doubted the woman would roll over on him. The demon was out for himself, but he wasn’t heartless.

  And that was a sentence Boone never thought he’d take seriously. “Come on, Sierra. You need to get some rest.”

  Her stricken gaze met his and
she nodded. With her arms hugged around herself, she let him lead her upstairs.

  Chapter 12

  What a fucking day.

  Boone stood outside the bedroom door with his hand on the doorknob. He couldn’t bring himself to go inside. Sierra might still be napping after the afternoon of shock and accusations. She’d walked into the room and gone straight to bed, emotionally exhausted.

  Instead, Boone turned, sat down at the top of the stairs, and watched the flurry on the main floor. He wasn’t needed or wanted. Sierra’s former teammates had had their minds blown, and while some of their anger toward her was justified—if he were in their position, he’d probably have the same suspicions—he thought they all needed space. The warriors were scrambling to revamp their mission plans in a way that reminded him of a team he’d worked with before he went undercover. An informant and a fellow agent had been killed. Months of work had been destroyed, identities exposed, and it was an overall shit show, but that hadn’t stopped the team from trying to save what they could and put the bad guys away.

  Extra surveillance on the house had been added. The delivery driver Boone had thought was one of them had arrived. His name was Bronx. Another warrior. His duty was to watch outside the house and make sure no one was trying to get in or out, namely him and Sierra.

  Being a captive under partial suspicion was an odd feeling. He’d joined the police force and gotten a band of brothers in uniform. He’d been one of them. They’d trusted each other with their lives. With the ATF, it’d been the same, but then he’d gone undercover. After some initial inherent distrust, he’d ingratiated himself with a local biker gang. He’d gone in as a frustrated salesman who’d realized his life was boring and all that was left was working for the man and maybe getting yearly raises that barely covered inflation.

  He’d been more believable than he’d hoped. He hadn’t climbed to the top of the biker food chain, but he hadn’t needed to. He’d been able to collect incriminating evidence as a middleman. He’d “sold” drugs like they told him to. They’d accepted him. He’d become one of them. Meanwhile, he’d had a team he worked with. Guys he’d trusted with his life, and as an undercover agent, he’d trusted them with the life of his family.

  The team was gone. By the time the trial was over and Johnny “the Bear” Cobb, Chicago biker gang boss, was in prison, his team had dissolved. Agents suffered burnout. Others got promoted. A couple stayed in.

  Boone had never been on the outside looking in. It had been his job to be part of the team. What would it have been like had he gone back to work? Would his guys have treated him like Sierra was getting treated? He’d told his wife too much and it’d backfired.

  He didn’t know, but he did know there was more to the story and she wasn’t talking for a reason.

  No more avoiding her. He got up and opened the door. The light in the bedroom was off, but she wasn’t napping. He was in his gray sweats and white T-shirt. She was also in sweats, sitting on the edge of the bed. He hadn’t remembered to knock. She usually changed in the bathroom like him, but it was like a part of him wanted to catch her with her top off again.

  He didn’t flip on the light when he shut the door. He went to the same side of the bed as her and sank down. The grayish-pink color of her sweats looked like it had come from the same line as the pea-green shirt.

  It didn’t matter the color she wore, nothing could diminish her beauty, or hide the shadows in her eyes. She wasn’t the pale woman he’d pulled out of the snow, but she was almost as defeated as the woman who’d lingered in bed for weeks after she’d woken.

  “Can they protect you?” He had no earthly way to fight demons without hurting a human. On the drive, she’d explained that not all hosts were bad, but regardless, a warrior’s job was to kill the demon and save a human life.

  “Yes.” She rubbed her hands together. “And no.” She ran a finger along the healing wound from where Sandeen had cut her. It was shallow. He’d only been after blood; his intent hadn’t been harm. “He could’ve left Alma’s body at any time. But the way he did it . . . doesn’t look good for me.”

  “No. It doesn’t. I’m sure that was his goal. It’d be easier for him if we fought Andy than him. Your people need to figure out what Sandeen wants if they’re going to catch him.”

  “He won’t be able to hide well if he can’t morph his wings.”

  Sandeen would also need a stocking hat for those horns.

  “They’ll find him,” she sighed. “I just wish . . . I could help. But all I’ve done is make things worse.”

  “What you’ve done is alert people who owe you nothing to a danger they didn’t know about.”

  “Boone.” Her imploring gaze cut straight through any delusions he had about why he was here. “If I’d known, at all, that I’d get you into this mess, I would’ve left as soon as I woke up.”

  He took her injured hand in his own. “Without a fallen angel and an old woman with a demon, I might’ve stayed in my cabin for years. We’re in this together, but it’s harder when you lie to me.”

  Her hand closed around his. “Jagger?”

  “I can understand why you’re ashamed. But, Sierra, after the last two weeks, to me, that was a pretty tame revelation.”

  “Shame kept me from telling you. You’re a good man and I’m . . .” She ran her thumb over an old scar he’d had since he was a teen and learning to skin his own kill. “I haven’t told them how I was blackmailed, and I can’t tell you.”

  He’d spilled his world when he’d found her with that picture. He couldn’t expect her to do the same, but that didn’t stop the hurt from permeating his chest. After all they’d been through, she didn’t trust him. She couldn’t be open with him. The last woman who’d felt that way had ruined her life, his life, and that of their child.

  “You said secrets would ruin me. But if it gets out, it’s not just me. I was raised by a single father,” she said softly. “He gave up everything to raise me, and he’s the only other one who knows about me. I didn’t think my birth father knew about me, but then . . . Andy.”

  “Do you know who your birth father is?”

  A furrow formed between her brows. “I know enough. Because of that secret, I lost everything. I can’t let my real father, Ransom, the male who raised me, lose everything too. Everyone thinks my mother cheated on her mate with him and that’s why he didn’t say anything. Numen likes to pretend we aren’t affected by the same afflictions as humans. Keeping my secret is the only way to keep my father safe. If the senate knew he’d kept it from them all this time . . . We might live for centuries, but forty-eight years of duplicity—”

  “Hold on—you’re forty-eight?”

  “It’s quite young in our realm, Boone.”

  He barked out a laugh. Because of course she was in her forties. “Everyone’s going to think Jack Smith robbed the cradle when you’re the cougar.” She chuckled and he was grateful for the levity. Her terror wasn’t for herself. Whatever she was hiding, she didn’t hide it for herself. “Can you ever see your father again?”

  “No. Numen will treat Ransom Cormorant as if he’d never had a daughter. He’ll go back to being a warrior and I’ll worry about him every day of my life and never know if he’s doing well.”

  Boone wrapped an arm around her. He’d lost his father before he’d entered the police academy, and he’d dealt with the loss by throwing himself into work. The habit had stayed when things had gotten serious between him and Phoebe.

  What would it be like to be gone forever to someone who was alive and well?

  “I feel so useless,” she said.

  “That’s normal in these types of situations.” Except he had the same frustrating feelings. The last week had been mind-numbingly boring. After today, they’d be allowed to do even less. How many puzzles could one household put together?

  “I could live a long time,” she said softly. “Just like this. I probably won’t age like a normal human.”

  She stiffened
like she was ready for him to shove her away.

  The shock sent out more ripples than when she’d admitted her age. A long time. He was middle-aged and she was only just beginning? A concern for another day. He needed to get her out of the loop of anxiety she was in. “If this had happened to someone else and you and your team had to help them, what would you do?”

  She shifted to get more comfortable. They were on the edge of the bed with only so many ways to sit. He moved them back, keeping her tucked into his side. She went with him, staying close.

  He’d slept above the covers for a week. Next to her, but with space and layers between them. Having her warmth in his arms came with a sense of rightness he didn’t inspect too closely.

  “I’d be in a house like this. Maybe not with them. I’d watch the cameras and scour online for any information possible. They’d update me and I’d report any new information to them. Usually, if there was a topic they needed more info on, like what happened to the fallen over the years, I’d research it.” She shifted her head to look up at him. Their position was intimate, but neither of them wanted to change it. “What would you be doing?”

  “Before or after I found out about angels and demons?”

  She chuckled quietly and rested her cheek on his chest and her hand on his side. Did she realize it was right over his bullet wound? And that his hand was spread over her scars? “Either one. Our operations are similar, I imagine.”

  Hadn’t he thought that before. “I’d go undercover at the club.”

  “As a biker?”

  “I haven’t ridden since that day,” he admitted.

  “Do you miss it?”

  “I rode as a way to stay close to my dad. To feel alive after a long day in the office. And to clear my head after an even longer day in the field. Afterward, well, I didn’t care if I ever saw another bike again. I’ve found other ways to cope since then.” He’d found a way to avoid it all—the memories and the long days at work.