Demon Fire (The Angel Fire Book 3) by Marie Johnston (best authors to read .txt) 📗

use this. “Aren’t those questions you’d love the answers to?”

“Just because I don’t exist to my people anymore doesn’t mean they won’t listen to me when I tell them there’s an archmaster possessing people in this town and stalking fallen. After what’s happened, they might ignore me, but they won’t ignore what I have to say.”

“Bold. And I agree.”

She loosened her grip. His easy acceptance had caught her off guard apparently. He used his host’s weak muscles to brush off Sierra’s hand. Not wanting to hurt the human, she dropped her hands. He straightened his bulky winter coat and the heavy sweater underneath. Alma was always cold.

“Do you remember the man that worked for Jameson Haddock?”

Terror and regret flashed over her face. He recalled how she’d looked exiting the stall. Bringing up Jameson’s name had brought that all back. What had she discovered about the deceased fallen in this little bathroom?

“Andy?” he prompted.

“Stede was the one that got to me.”

He cocked a brow. She didn’t admit to Jameson. His restless intuition said that there was something there. But he’d play along with Sierra’s feigned naivety. “Andy was Jameson’s accountant, then his assistant, but he was a deceptive one. Smarter than anyone gave him credit for and he knows all about us. All of us.”

Her eyes narrowed. “All of us?”

“Angels, demons, and fallen.” He cocked his head. “You, my dear, have captured his attention.”

She crossed her arms, her gaze pinning him in place against the sink. Wet spots from the counter seeped into the back of his sweatpants. He hoped they dried before he went outside and they froze in a heartbeat.

“Why would he be interested in me?”

This was where Sandeen had to decide how much to reveal. It smarted that Andy knew everything he did. Sandeen shouldn’t have underestimated him.

“It has been discovered that fallen blood has certain properties . . .”

She waited, one black snow boot tapping on the floor.

That was enough for now. “I propose an alliance.”

“You can take your alliance and shove it up your bony ass, archmaster. I’m a fallen, as good as human. I’m done with my realm and yours.”

Her vehemence was understandable. She’d lost her wings for a reason and he only knew part of the story. Perhaps if she knew how much danger she was in . . .

“Give me some of your blood.”

Her expression wavered. His request was the last thing she’d expected.

He rolled his eyes. His knees were stiff and he wanted to sit down. Propping a hip on the sink, he clasped his soft, wrinkled hands. He didn’t want to give her all his information, but he’d rather be working with the fallen than Andy. He’d have to use his trump card. The one thing that would convince this fallen that she could not just fade into humanity. She was wanted.

“You’ll understand better if you can see why you’re so important to Andy. For that, I need some of your blood.”

Why the hell would he want my useless blood? When Stede had approached her, he’d wanted her intel, her inside knowledge of where her team would be and when. Jameson had wanted information. The sex had been a byproduct of rage and a rebellion against how they’d each been backed into a corner.

She’d suffered the repercussions of working with Stede to protect her secret. She’d just discovered she’d be paying for her time with Jameson. She’d left the bathroom wondering what the hell she was going to do, and wallowing a little in the self-pity pool, when this strange woman had said her name.

Sierra knew almost no one in town. And when she’d turned, letting her gaze go soft like when she’d been in the sporting goods store, she’d seen him, like a 3D hologram over the woman’s face. But instead of skeletal features covered in leathery skin, this archmaster had a less demonic look and a more . . . male model appeal.

Demons weren’t supposed to be handsome. This one had thick dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a chiseled chin. She’d been able to make out dark horns jutting from his hair and that was it. Only his face flashing among the aged features of the woman.

Despite his otherworldly good looks, he didn’t compare to Boone’s quiet strength. And he was a demon.

She glanced toward the door as if she expected Boone to storm in and find out the answer both of them instinctively knew. The magnitude of the plus sign on the stick in the garbage was slowly setting in. Before the pink lines had appeared, she’d had a sliver of hope. That hope was gone.

“Your guy’s waiting by the door, glaring down a rack of magazines,” the demon said. “But I’m sure he’ll come knocking. You’d better make your decision.”

“Or you could tell me.”

The host’s expression turned serious. “Either give me your blood or I tell Andy exactly where you’re at. Think you and that human can outrun a hundred demons sent your way?”

Shit. Shit.

He let out a soft sigh. “Look, like you, I want to be left the hell alone, and I was this close”—he held his host’s fingers an inch apart—“from being free. But Andy’s got eyes everywhere and here I am. He wants something from you. He wants me to do his dirty work, and if I deliver, I’m not young and dumb enough to think that’ll be it and he’ll let me be on my way.”

If she knew the specifics, she might believe him. The trouble was, she believed him already. He wasn’t a typical archmaster. Save for those horns, he could blend into Numen easier than any other creature she’d seen.

Still, she hesitated. Nothing like this had worked out before and she refused to be a pawn again. If she caved, Boone could get hurt and he’d done nothing but help her. Her baby—

She could barely form the thought without gagging, sick to her stomach about what she’d done. Or was it morning sickness? Her gut churned.

What would the baby of two fallen be like? Normal, like a