“Hey there, lovebirds.”
Max visibly recoiled as Emily’s unctuous coo sounded from the door, which we’d deliberately kept open to avoid anyone being an asshole.
Emily giggled at his response. “What? I was just going to let you know that your mom and dad’s show is about done, and you can bet your dad will be checking the doors and windows,as if there weren’t a million different ways in and out of this old mausoleum. But you might want to be safely tucked in your own beds before that happens, is all I’m saying.”
“Thanks, Emily.” Max’s tone betrayed too much, and both Emily and I glanced at him. He hadn’t talked to his aunt since early that morning. It’d been a long day in between, and he wasn’t about to let it go. “I gave the gun back to Bill at the gun shop. If you go back in there again, they’ll call the cops.”
“Thecops,” she giggled again. “Oh, Max. I don’t need guns anymore. I’ve got Delia now. That’s more than enough entertainment, wouldn’t you agree?”
Max stood and looked at me. “Good night. Feel free to lock the doors. Or sleep in the car. If Emily bothers you, you can call the cops too.”
Emily pouted as he brushed by her, then looked at me. “He’s always so angry, you know? It’s because he never gets laid. I thought you’d help with that, but you’re just as boring as he is.”
“Goodnight, Emily,” I said, watching her as she rolled her head. She had a way of moving that made it so I could never really get a fix on her eyes. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“And I’ll be so glad to see you too. It’s been sodullhere.” She smiled and slipped out of the room with a graceful wave.
I watched her leave, that graceful, boneless way she moved. Like her spine was made of water. Like something was operating her from the inside, pulling invisible strings.
The door clicked shut, and I was alone. Or as alone as I ever was.
After that, there was nothing more I could do except go to sleep. I didn’t change out of my clothes. I kicked off my shoes and socks and popped the back of my bra, then climbed into the bed and scooted all the way back until I sank into the pillows. It was a ridiculously comfortable bed, but I didn’t think I was going to be able to fall asleep on it.
Wrong.
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
Inever really paid too much attention to my dreams. Given my life, what I did, it was reasonable that I’d see things at night that didn’t quite make sense, things I didn’t want to fully understand. Mordechai and I had this discussion more times than I could count. He was a big fan of spirit messages. For good or ill, he believed your dreams weren’t just a matter of your synapses processing your day’s experiences and emotions physiologically so your body’s systems could better react to the stresses of it. He believed that God sometimes talked to you in your dreams. Which sounded nice.
Except tonight, I saw my demon in my bedroom. In the flesh.
This couldn’t be real for many reasons. One, we weren’t in my bedroom at Max’s, or even at my house. Instead, we were in a room in some palatial hotel, with golden papered walls and a bed approximately the size of Rhode Island. Secondly, I was standing in front of a mirror—and I had no reflection. But the demon looming behind me did.
“Hello, Delia.”
I glared into the mirror,memorizing every detail, even as my mouth twisted into what I hoped passed as an amused, offhanded grin. I couldn’t speak at first; I didn’t want to speak. I only wanted to stare.
The demon—my demon—wore the shape of a man, but no man had ever looked like this. He was dressed like the European kingpin from Descent in an expensive black suit and crimson, open-necked shirt. Dark hair spilled across his shoulders, catching the lamplight as though it were spun from shadows. His cheekbones were sharp enough to cut, his mouth lush and dangerous, his eyes the same fathomless pools I’d painted on my bedroom wall…eyes that could drown me in ancient grief or burn me alive with longing.
“You wanted to see me,” he said. Not a question.
“I want you gone,” I retorted.
“But I’ve only just begun to explore the possibilities here.”
The room tilted, half opulent, half wrong. The damask wallpaper seemed to pulse with my heartbeat, the bed looked too vast, the sheets too smooth. My breath caught, despite myself, and I struggled to keep my heart rate even.
“Mmm.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I know what you’re doing, you know.”
It was his turn to smile, and I steeled myself against the torrent of naked longing that poured through me. “Do you?” he murmured. My God, he shouldn’t be so hot.
“I totally do.” I went on the offensive. “I mean, it clearly must’ve pissed you off that I thought Volkov was hot, yeah? But what if it wasn’t the guy’s great shoulders and the way they filled out a suit that I liked so much? Maybe I just liked the eyeball hanging out of his head.”
Unperturbed, the demon strolled closer to me. Shadows rippled behind him, almost wings, almost nothing.
“I like this new Delia,” he murmured. “Think of the fun we could have together if you just let it happen?”
