My stomach clenched. “Then I’ll find another rabbi. Or a priest. Someone who actually knows?—”
“No one knows what I know.” He turned back to face me, leaning with one shoulder against the doorframe, and for the first time, something almost honest flickered across his features. “I’ve walked among them for centuries. I know their hierarchies, their feuds, their weaknesses. I know which ones can be bargained with and which ones will burn your world to ash just to watch you suffer.” He paused. “And I know how to kill them. Truly kill them. Not merely banish them for a few decades.”
I wanted to laugh. To tell this once and always demon to go to hell—literally. But the weight of his words settled in my chest like stones. “Why would you help me?”
“Because I have debts of my own to collect,” he said, lifting a winged brow. “Scores that need settling. And you, Delia Thompson, are my best chance at doing that.”
“So, you need me.”
“As much as you need me.” His smirk returned, sharp and knowing. “Convenient, isn’t it? We’ll form an excellent partnership.”
I tightened my grip on the amulet, feeling its reassuring heat. Every instinct I had screamed that this was a mistake. That inviting a demon—even a reformed one, even one wearing a magnificent suit and a gorgeous face—into my life was signing my own death warrant.
But I’d learned something these past few weeks. Instincts could be wrong. And sometimes the most dangerous choice was also the only one that made sense.
“Fine,” I bit out. “But you’re not my partner,Lucian. You’re my assistant. You do what I say, when I say it. And the second you step out of line…”
“You’ll banish me again.” He didn’t sound particularly worried. “I understand.”
“Good.” I forced myself to release the amulet, though my hand trembled slightly. “So if you’re going to work for me, start by explaining how the hell you went from smoke and shadow to—” I gestured at him. “—whatever this is. And please be succinct. I don’t need your bullshit misdirection right now.”
He tilted his head, considering. Then he moved closer to me; not quite within arm’s reach, but near enough that I could see the unnatural stillness in him, the way he didn’t quite breathe like a human should.
“Funny thing about the shedim,” he began, his voice light, almost casual, though his gaze remained hard. “They’re weak, half-formed creatures. Neither angel nor beast, but human enough to wear a man’s face when it suits them. When you cast me into that nest of them at the lake house, desperate and dying, they thought I was prey.” His smile turned cold. “They were wrong.”
My brows shot up. “You attacked them?”
“I took what I needed. Their tricks, their masks, their shapes.” He spread his hands, a mockery of innocence. “That’s how I can stand here now, Delia. Not smoke, not shadow. Flesh.” He tapped his chest once, the sound oddly solid. “Would you like me to prove it?”
“No!” I snapped, though a different answer coiled within me, sly and sinister. “No.”
He shrugged. “As you wish. But know this: I can walk in daylight now. Eat, if I choose. Bleed, even. So I can stand with you to fight whatever comes.”
“But you said the shedim are weak,” I countered. “Presumably, that means you were higher on the totem pole than they were.”
“I still am, for the most part.” He held his hands up, examining them. “I’ve yet to experience any limitations.”
“But why would you trade down?”
His smile turned almost fond. “Because shedim can wear human faces, Delia. And I wanted—” He stopped himself, jaw tightening. “I needed a form that could stand beside you, not inside you.”
The admission hung between us, raw and dangerous.
I winced, dropping my amulet to rub my hand over my brow. “Jesus Christ.”
“He won’t help you, I’m afraid.” Lucian’s expression hardened. “But I will. That’s the bargain, Delia. Your emerging skillsets and my knowledge of the dark. Together, we might actually survive what’s coming.”
The sound of heels clicking in the hallway made us both turn. Claire’s voice carried down the corridor, bright and oblivious. “Delia? I’ve got the laptop and—oh!”
She appeared in the doorway, arms full of electronics, her eyes going wide as she took in Lucian. “Oh, Hi! Um, have we met? I feel like we’ve met, but I?—”
“Claire Bickwell.” Lucian’s voice shifted into something warmer, something definitely more human. He offered her a smile that could have melted all the circuits in the tech she was carrying. “We did meet, but very briefly. I’m Lucian Gray. I’ll be working with Delia.”
“You—I’m sorry?” Claire’s gaze ping-ponged between us. “Since when? Delia, you didn’t say?—”
“It just happened,” I said flatly. “Lucian is leaving now.”
“I am?” He raised an eyebrow.
