Demon Fire (The Angel Fire Book 3)

by Marie Johnston

  “I know they don’t trust me, but if I can figure out a way to help, I’m going to do it.”

  While she was pregnant? He didn’t bring it up. The thought would get her through some long days of doing nothing. As her breathing evened out, he continued to hold her and wonder what it would be like to do this every day. What would it be like to trust someone enough again to crawl into bed and talk about their day and their hopes and dreams? Sierra had her secrets and they were from different worlds, but he didn’t think about that. She wasn’t the only one who needed to ignore reality to get through this.

  Chapter 13

  Home filthy home.

  Sandeen hovered in the Gloom around his shack of a house. The inside was nicer than the outside, but if he made it look like trash, fewer demons messed with him.

  He couldn’t see any other demon lingering around his place, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. How far did Andy’s reach go down here?

  He searched the craggy, barren hills around his stone shack. Nothing grew in this realm. The place looked as dark and dirty as the creatures that inhabited it. What did Numen look like? They were supposed to be the good. Not exactly pure, but good. He heard they could grow trees with their energy. Grass too. It’d be thick and plush, a stark contrast to the dirt he’d been raised in.

  Permanent smog blanketed his realm. The Gloom was smothering, oppressive, but he didn’t feel like he was developing lung cancer just walking around it. No wonder all the demons had leathery, mottled skin, blackened teeth, jagged fangs, and just a general shitty attitude.

  Why was he different?

  He hadn’t figured that out, and his sire, Zadren, wasn’t talking. It wasn’t like Sandeen really needed answers. He wanted an escape. He wanted to roam free. Drink a fucking latte and taste it with his own taste buds. He wanted his sire to never be able to find him.

  Whatever made Sandeen different gave him the ability to blend in with the humans like no other demon could. Sure, his wings were an issue. And his horns. But he could take a page from Boone’s book and get a cabin in the middle of nowhere and just be. It was all he’d require to live out his existence.

  In order to do that, he needed his stash. He’d given the warriors enough information to motivate them to move quickly with Andy. He’d warned Sierra. The rest was up to her. All he had to do was gather his vials of Jameson’s blood and slip away. The warriors could hunt down Andy and they all could leave him the fuck alone.

  He stepped out of the Gloom and refrained from furtively looking around. The less suspicious he acted, the more— Nah. Demons would be suspicious anyway.

  He went into his house, opening his senses. He never locked it, or put traps around it. Then others would know he was hiding something and that meant they’d want it. Open or bolted, it was a risk.

  He inhaled, filling his lungs with the stench. The fetid swamp at the base of the tallest hill around his house permeated every stone that made up his home. The rotten smell was so strong that even other demons gave his home a wide berth. A small price for some privacy.

  The dirt floor revealed footprints that weren’t his. Another demon had been here and it wasn’t his sire. The prints were smaller and tipped with claws. Much like the rest of Sandeen, his feet resembled a human’s. His human form was a detriment in many ways in this realm, but he’d learned how to turn his weaknesses into strengths. Like differentiating prints.

  He eased in and shut the door behind him. He waited while his eyes adjusted. Some demons could summon a flame. They bartered the ability. Sandeen didn’t dare make a trade. His eyes weren’t as strong as his counterparts and he had to keep his skills strong.

  When he could make out details, he moved farther into the room. Awareness prickled along his skin and made his feathers twitch.

  Another stench permeated the air.

  “You’ve been gone long enough.”

  Aw, fuck. The last time he’d been home, Gerzon had confronted him. He could handle the male again. But his second-in-command was another story.

  Zanda reclined on the stone slab that was his bed. His dreams of sleeping on a nice comfy mattress tonight evaporated. He’d have to deal with her.

  She had one leg crossed over the other. The way she propped herself on her elbows lifted her breasts into the air. She was nude. Her claw-tipped wings were half folded behind her and draped across his bed like a bony leather blanket. As far as demons went, she wasn’t the ugliest. Far from it. Her burnished brass skin was relatively unblemished with the typical pocks and boils that occurred while living in this type of environment.

  Because she was attractive with dainty fangs and delicate horns, she’d become a coveted item. He shared a kinship with Zanda. He used his intelligence to keep on top of the power struggles that were a regular occurrence in this realm, and he’d had plenty of practice—his sire had loved putting him in the fighting rings. Zanda, too, used the way others naturally underestimated her to eviscerate her opponents at their most vulnerable.

  They’d make the perfect couple. If he could stand her.

  He tolerated her. They’d fucked. He used her and she used him. If he didn’t take what she offered, it’d be worse than a neon sign over his head that he wasn’t an ally of anything in this realm.

  “Andy likes to make demands.”

  She bared her black fangs. Zanda might be fine boned, but you never saw her coming in the shadows until those sharp fangs sank into your skin and her bloodred tongue suckled you dry.

  He repressed a shudder. She liked to latch on to him during sex. He hated sharp things in his body. Weapons, claws, fangs. None of it, and not during sex. But that was his secret.

  “Andy needs to be killed,” she hissed.

  “Gerzon should go ahead and do it,” he replied blandly.

  “Gah. That male is weird about the human.” She tilted her head to study him. She lied. She knew why Gerzon catered to Andy, but he didn’t challenge her. He was more worried she sensed Sierra’s blood. “Gerzon thinks you’re helping the fallen.”

  “And Gerzon’s bull-in-a-china-shop approach set me back weeks. I almost had her willingly coming with me.” He grinned wide enough to show his own fangs. Zanda had a thing for them and he wanted to keep distracting her. She couldn’t find his new toy. “But it was fun watching a fallen take him down.”

  Zanda barked a harsh laugh. She wasn’t strong enough to defeat Gerzon in an outright battle. Her tactics were more like Sandeen’s. Let others do it, or be there when the opportunity arose to chop his head off herself. “He doesn’t trust you.”

  “Of course not.” That was why she was here. To spy on him. He wasn’t going to get rid of her easily. “Look, my host is a bust. I have to find a new one and get back to Sierra.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Now if I told you that, what would I have for Andy?”

  Her black eyes narrowed to slits. “I go with you. We find two hosts. Stay together. Gerzon’s orders.” Orders that probably came from Andy.

  Shit. He couldn’t surreptitiously disappear, and he couldn’t disappear at all without his stash of fallen blood. He crossed to the bed and dropped next to her. He fluttered his wings behind him to mingle them with hers.

  “Here’s the thing. You don’t want to be Andy’s bitch, and I don’t want to be spied on.”

  She uncrossed her leg and slid it over one of his. Her sex was bared. Her favorite signal to tell him she wanted to fuck. “What do you have in mind?”

  Even harbingers of nightmares and pain didn’t want to hurt all the time. It was what gave him bargaining power with Zanda. “I tell you where Sierra is.”

  And he would. Sierra was surrounded by warriors. If they couldn’t protect her, that wasn’t his fault. The ever-insidious guilt snaked around the base of his skull. He would not feel bad. Sierra wasn’t helpless. She might not know it yet, but she wasn’t.

  “And you can bring her in for Andy. Show him that Gerzon is too much brute with too little brain
s.”

  She flipped until she straddled him, but before her claws could dig into his chest and feel the little tool, he whipped his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. Time to put out a little to get what he wanted.

  “And what would you do?” she purred and dug at the tie of his waistband, her claws ripping at the fabric. His cock twitched to life. Bloodthirsty or not, Zanda had nice breasts.

  “Figure out a way to kill Andy.”

  Excitement blazed in her obsidian eyes. “How?”

  “He’s human. It wouldn’t take much. I just have to get close to him.”

  She licked across his ear and fisted his cock. He winced at the sharp stab of her claws on his most sensitive flesh. She grinned. “What does he want with the fallen?”

  “I can torture that information out of him.”

  She lifted herself and slammed down on him. He groaned, more from the sudden impact than pleasure.

  “We have a deal, Sandeen.”

  Relief washed over him. He closed his eyes and let her have her way with him. This time tomorrow, he’d be somewhere on Earth, staying in his own form thanks to Jameson’s blood, and no one would find him.

  Sierra turned her back on the parenting magazines on the end table behind her. She’d read one headline when she sat down, wondered what the hell thrush was, and fought off a panic attack.

  She’d hunted demons. All her time as a warrior hadn’t been behind a desk. She’d yanked several symasters and archmasters out of hosts and fought them in the Mist. A full-on battle. She might be shorter than many of her fellow warriors, but she’d been fast and efficient.

  Motherhood terrified her. A helpless life depended on her. She’d had lives depend on her before. Director Richter hadn’t been helpless and he’d suffered.

  A baby.

  Coping by deluding herself that it wasn’t real had worked—until she’d entered the clinic. One woman sat in a cushioned chair, a baby carrier at her feet. Another had a feeding blanket over her shoulder, covering a nursing baby. A few others scrolled through their phones or magazines, one hand resting on their rounded belly. Bellies of every size dotted the waiting room. A couple of others were like her. Not showing yet, or perhaps had appointments for different reasons.

  Jagger hadn’t wasted time setting her up with a doctor. Part of her had hoped Sandeen’s antics would have glossed over the baby in his mind. But he’d passed on the information to Dionna and Director Vale, updated Bronx, and finished coordinating life for Jack and Shari Smith, all in two days.

  That had begun with fake insurance and using her brand-new fake ID to register for her appointment. Boone was next to her. He paged through a local magazine highlighting all the attractions they wouldn’t be able to visit.

  Harlowe had stuffed some padding under her shirt and walked in five minutes after them. She’d driven separately. She’d even made an appointment for an hour after Sierra’s appointment and pretended to forget, claiming she’d just wait, so it wouldn’t seem odd that she sat so long in the waiting room. When Sierra was done, Harlowe would cancel and they’d figure out a different ruse next time.

  Boone tossed the magazine to the side and propped his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. They must look like one pensive couple.

  A set of double doors whooshed open. A nurse in lavender scrubs exited, a laptop in her hands. “Shari Smith.”

  Boone stood first and held his hand out.

  They followed the nurse to the exam room. Sierra tried not to gawk. Doctors’ offices weren’t an area she’d had to patrol. Angels stayed away from them as technology advanced. The days when they could linger with a mop bucket and pretend to be part of housekeeping and not get questioned were gone. Secure access and highly skilled workers made it harder to blend.

  The nurse led her through unfamiliar procedures. A weight check. Blood pressure. Pulse rate. Was all this necessary for the baby?

  Then came the questions, each one making her cringe harder than the one before. When was your last period?

  How about never? She went with “It was sporadic.”

  How far along do you think you are?

  Three to four months. Sierra had to hand it to the nurse. She didn’t bat an eye, but gave Sierra a reassuring smile. “Dr. Winston will be right in.” The nurse went to the exam table in the middle of the room and pulled out a cloth item. “Get undressed from the waist down. You can leave your socks on.”

  “I . . . What?” Get undressed. Here? For what?

  “Thank you,” Boone said.

  The nurse was gone and Sierra was left staring at the fabric. “Why do I need to undress?”

  “The doctor might do an ultrasound. With Phoebe, she did one that . . .” Alarm settled in his eyes. He cleared his throat. “Was vaginal.”

  “What?”

  “With a wand.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I can leave the room.”

  “She just sticks it up there?”

  He peered at her. “You really have no experience with doctors?”

  “Numen has no need for obstetricians.”

  “Well, pregnancy isn’t a good time to be modest. The doctor will do regular physical exams and measure your belly. I don’t know how often she’ll do internal exams. Those are in the later months, I think.”

  “Is this really all necessary?”

  “For the most desirable outcome, yes.” His tone was gentle. He’d been through this before. She’d have to rely on his experience.

  “I can’t exactly give birth in a hospital.” She whispered, “What if the baby has wings?”

  He thought for a moment. “They’ll think it’s an abnormality in the ultrasound. By the big ultrasound partway through, they should be able to tell.” Uncertainty flashed in his brown eyes. “I think.”

  “And then we can ghost them.” Her panic died down. “And figure out what to do after that.”

  “Sure.” He didn’t sound convinced. “Do you want me to leave the room so you can get changed?”

  “Close your eyes.”

  He did and put his elbows on his knees with his face in his hands.

  She took off her canvas shoes and leggings, the ones she’d fled Green Valley in. Her shirt was a light purple, so thin it showed the outline of her bra. She couldn’t bring herself to care.

  She shrugged into the gown like a jacket, sat on the cool paper protecting the exam table, and covered herself with a coarse blanket. A second later there was a knock on the door.

  “Ready?” a new voice called.

  Fuck no. “Yeah.”

  The doctor walked in and her kindly smile and warm dark eyes drained some of the tension from Sierra. Until she wheeled in a cart with a monitor. Was that the ultrasound machine? The vaginal one?

  “Would you like me to go?” Boone asked again.

  No. But he’d be two feet away while the nice woman stuck a wand up her.

  “It’s totally up to Mom,” Dr. Winston said as she took a chair and logged in to the laptop the nurse had left behind.

  Sierra managed a small shake of her head. Dr. Winston lobbed question after question, many of them the same as the nurse’s. Then she said, “Shall we see how far along you are?”

  Sierra glued her gaze to the white drop ceiling as Dr. Winston lubed up the wand and inserted it. Cool and uncomfortable, Sierra failed to cover her grimace. Not. Fun.

  When the doctor said, “There we go,” Sierra chanced a peek at the screen and couldn’t look away. “Oh, God, it’s real.” Her throat constricted and a band tightened around her chest. Sucking in air was like breathing through a straw.

  Dr. Winston chuckled. “It is at that.”

  A strong hand gripped hers. Boone was over her, his eyes on the screen, the corners of his eyes pinched. When his gaze caught hers, his lips lifted in a little smile. This was supposed to be a happy time. The good doctor probably thought they were a couple eagerly anticipating the arrival of a new baby.

  How did Sierra feel about the baby?


  Now that she saw it, she couldn’t deny the pull of a deep, instinctive emotion that she couldn’t identify.

  “Fifteen weeks, does that sound about right?”

  She didn’t bother doing the math. She’d be ashamed all over again about her time with Jameson. “Yes, I’m sure that’s accurate.”

  The doctor hit a button and a piece of paper slid out. Dr. Winston handed it to her. “Congratulations, Mom.”

  Sierra stared at the picture with Boone as Dr. Winston wrapped up the ultrasound. Boone gave her hand another squeeze. She couldn’t take her eyes off the blurry image. An outline of a baby. She could tell where the head was, and the body. Would she see any wings on this small of a peanut?

  She made it through the rest of the exam clutching the picture. She couldn’t take her eyes off it. Her. A mom. Sierra hadn’t known her own mother. She’d been forced on the female who’d died birthing her. This baby wasn’t planned. Far from it. She could ignore the little beating heart on the screen, or she could make her father proud. Ransom Cormorant had given up so much to raise her. He’d lived under constant fear of being discovered. Yet he’d still nurtured her. He’d loved her. She would do no less for this child.

  The doctor rattled off the treatment plan and timeline for the next twenty-five weeks, but Sierra hardly listened. She’d failed her father, but she could honor the way he’d sacrificed for her. She’d do it by ensuring that Andy and the demons after her ended up dead.

  It was the only way her baby would be safe.

  Millie’s body hummed from her latest release. The physical response had been there. Nowhere as powerful as when her mate made her orgasm, and without the mental closeness of being with someone she was head over heels about. But she’d done it again and that was what counted.

  Leo had been knocked off his game. She’d climbed into bed and he’d even twisted around to stare at her. She’d smiled and wished him a good night. And for the first time since before his injury, they’d slept in the same bed.