“Take him,” Harmony said, grinning as she dropped a wriggling little boy in Shay’s arms, drawing Shay’s attention away from the enigmatic demon hunter who’d been shadowing their tour of the town. If only Quel Laredo would go away and stop reminding her of what she was—and what she could never be.
Awkwardly, Shay juggled the squirming weight in her arms. Satan’s stones—here she was, pretending to be a child-care provider, and she’d never once held a child. She’d never wanted to. Harmony, thank the Dark Lord, didn’t seem to notice. “He’s a handful, isn’t he?”
Shay swallowed hard. It wasn’t her intent or desire to get to know the boy. Especially since she was going to have to—
“Park!” The boy strained in the direction of the lawn and play area across the street. Other children played, their mothers watching, smiling as if their offspring were the cutest things on earth.
To Shay’s shock, disgust didn’t fill her as she’d expected. Nor, however, did she want to join the group. It was too far outside her experience—and interests. It’s a chance to get the babe alone. Yes, but she couldn’t kill it here, not in front of everyone. The thought of killing it at all was growing increasingly repulsive. As soon as she recovered, her reservations—her conscience—would pass, she was certain. Meanwhile, she’d better role-play and strengthen the family’s trust in her.
“Take him to the swings, if you like,” Harmony coaxed. “Damon and I will stay here. It’ll give you two a little time to become acquainted.”
Forcing a smile, Shay hoisted little Damon higher on her hip. “Let’s play while your mama and papa finish their ice cream.” She remembered to look both ways before crossing the street—pretending to be mortal required so many little details—and headed toward the park.
The babe brought a warm sticky hand to her cheek, holding her gaze in a direct, quite disconcerting way, much like his mother. “Shay good.”
A low laugh escaped her. “I wouldn’t jump to conclusions.”
“Good Shay,” he insisted.
Wincing, Shay took the babe’s hand, holding it in hers as she lowered it. She wasn’t good. Not at all. She was a monster of the worst kind. Soon, very soon, the babe would learn the truth about her.
“Hey, Laredo, what do you think of the Faithfull’s new nanny and Mysteria’s newest citizen, Shay d’Mon?”
Quel almost choked on the cup of coffee he was about to gulp. “What?”
Jeanie, the sheriff, slid onto a stool next to him in the coffee shop. “Yup, our little fountain splasher. Hired. Yesterday. I’ll take the special, Elvira,” she called to the waitress.
Quel drained his coffee cup and rammed it down to the counter. He grabbed his hat and coat, grumbling, “See you, Sheriff.”
“Where you going?”
“To talk some sense into those folks.”
“Harmony and Damon? They know what they’re doing.”
He snorted. “Doesn’t much sound like it. Look, you hired me to look after the people here, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
“I appreciate that, Laredo. You know I do. But her background check came back clean.”
“As clean as an unemployed, midwestern schoolteacher who crashes sports cars willed to them by their deceased parents can be, I guess.” If Shay had relayed that information with her own lips, Quel would have laughed it off as lies. But the woman didn’t have to say a thing. Jeanie had found it all using the info from Shay’s license and registration. “A sweet smile or two, a pure-as-driven-snow background as a kindergarten teacher, and she goes and gets herself hired as their nanny? Do they have any idea who—or what—she might be?”
“Like you just said, a small-town teacher with a spotless record. Not even a traffic ticket. Well, before last Tuesday.”
“You gave her a ticket? Well. There’s justice in this town, after all.”
“Shay owes me community service in lieu of a fine.”
“Let me guess—at the car wash.” Quel threw the tip on the counter and headed for the exit. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m paying the Faithfulls a visit.”
“Or maybe it’s just an excuse to say hello to Miss d’Mon. There’s more than a little electricity going back and forth between you two. I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”
Quel stopped short, his back aimed at the sheriff. Electricity? He removed a toothpick from his pocket and slipped it between his lips. “The only thing going back and forth is my investigation and Miss d’Mon not liking it.”
Then he pushed out the swinging door into the sunshine, scowling as he did so. Since when had he become such a rotten liar?
In the cottage that Reverend Faithfull shared with her husband Damon, Quel stalked past a kitchen table topped with brownies and milk. His boots scuffed over the hardwood floor. His silver-bullet-loaded revolver rubbed against his hip. “Reverend Faithfull—”
“Harmony,” she corrected with her usual bright smile.
“Harmony. Jeanie tells me you’re thinking of hiring Miss d’Mon as your new nanny.”
“We already did.”
“Because you think she has a good soul,” he said, skeptical about the minister’s purported talent as a seer that the entire town took for granted—except him. “How do you know for sure?”
“It’s my job to know.” The reverend wore her pastor’s face that tried to get him to feel guilty about never setting foot in her church. Thing was, he had more things to blame God for than to thank him for. Since church was for praying and thanking, and not blaming, he never showed. The way he saw it, he killed demons for the Big Man. That should be enough. “And,” she said, blushing, “I can see things other people can’t, Mr. Laredo, just like you can sense demons. Shay has a good soul. I saw it. I felt it.”
“It’s a demon trick. That’s what they do. Your guard goes down, and they get you. Or, in this case, your kid.”
Her husband spoke up. “Demons can do many things, aye, but they can’t replicate a mortal soul.” Damon was a former demon high lord. If anyone knew about demons, it was this man.
“All I know is that I never sensed anything that powerful. Whatever came down that mountain was old as shit. I had one thing on my mind: get it out of the car and kill it before it killed any of us.”
Harmony lifted a brow. “Glad you took a moment to access the situation.”
“That’s the thing. I didn’t. By the time I got to the wreck, it didn’t smell like demon anymore. It didn’t smell like anything I’ve ever come across, either.” Not exactly demon, not exactly human.
But 100 percent woman. A damned sexy woman, too, with all the right curves and attitude to spare. He couldn’t stop thinking about how the hell stench had morphed into a hot little thing with an innocence about her that didn’t fit the heat in her eyes. His senses blasted on high alert whenever their eyes met. No one had ever looked at him with that much hunger, that much longing. Even if she did admit she’d mixed him up with someone else, it was damn unnerving. Damn arousing. Laredo, focus. You gotta think with your head not your cock. Hell and damn. Since when did he ever have trouble keeping the two apart? It was all jumbled up. He was all jumbled up.
“Shay has no defenses, Quel, none,” Harmony assured him, clearly trying to sway his opinion. “I can see right through her. There’s goodness there. She’s also conflicted, lonely. Afraid.”
He remembered Shay’s tears. Yeah, they’d looked pretty frickin’ genuine. Damn lucky he came to his senses before he wiped them off her cheek with his knuckle like he wanted to. He frowned. Quel Laredo didn’t wipe away tears. He didn’t know how. Yet she had him wanting to learn. She’d gotten under his skin, skin so thick he’d long since assumed it was impenetrable. Maybe Shay was an angel, and he was all wrong. Maybe he’d been around the wrong kind of woman for so long he didn’t know how to recognize the right kind.
Quel glanced out the kitchen window and into the backyard where the couple had told him Shay was spending time with the boy. Standing by the pond ne
ar the barn, she held the child in her arms, handing him bread crusts to throw to the ducks. The breeze lifted and tossed her curls around her neck and jaw. Suddenly, she looked sweet and vulnerable, like a young mother. Was this the monster he thought he’d find in the sports car? A woman with the face of an angel, the shirt of an angel, and the devil in her eyes. Damon and Harmony trusted her. Was he wrong not to?
Exhaling, Quel tiredly rubbed his face. He hadn’t shaved. He’d hardly slept. “I know what I sensed that night, Damon. As clear as day I know. My gut’s telling me whatever came down that hill didn’t up and disappear. Yeah, maybe it’s not Shay, maybe it’s not in Mysteria at all, but I won’t ignore my instincts. I did, once, and half my convoy got taken out in Iraq. Now I pay attention. I’m not letting down my guard. I advise you don’t, either.”
“I trust my wife’s instincts. I’ll take yours into account, as well.” Quel nodded. His attention drifted outside again, where Shay hugged the boy close as if he were her own. Quel had a fleeting memory of being hugged by his mother in the early years before she left. After that he adopted such a fierce outside shell that few risked reaching out. He never made it worth their while. Though if they’d tried a little harder, tried more than once, he might have let them in. No one ever did. He didn’t need cowards in his life then or now. He’d raised himself and was proud of it. Yet he had to wonder what he’d missed with the absence of any softness in his life.
With the child in her arms, Shay disappeared behind the barn. A chill washed over him. It was as if the sun had gone behind a cloud. He made fists, trying to resist the urge to follow—to chase down the sun. Impossible, he realized, and grabbed for an excuse to see her again. To see the pining in her eyes again. Hey, so he was being soft. So what? Sue him. If he liked the way a woman looked at him, no one needed to know. “Now that she’s going to be staying here, I’d better go and reintroduce myself.”
Harmony frowned at him. “It took us weeks to find a nanny. If you scare her away, Laredo . . .”
“I’ll be good. I promise.”
The couple sitting at the table didn’t look convinced. Damn, his reputation was worse than he’d thought. No one, not even the town pastor, wanted him near the woman. “I’ll play nice. I do know how.” So he was a little out of practice. No one needed to know that. In the meantime, it wouldn’t hurt to get to know Miss d’Mon a little better, angel . . . or not.
Five
If ever the moment to strike was right, it was this one. Here she was, alone with the babe, unwatched. Now was her chance.
Pink-cheeked, little Damon sat perched on Shay’s hip, giggling at the ducks. The idea of murdering the child and taking its bones to Lucifer threatened to make her violently ill. She’d killed men with a blink of her eyes. Now she was paralyzed by guilt and disgust at the thought of betraying the mortals who trusted her. The sensation had gotten worse over the past few days, not better.
Bat bugger. It was the blasted soul. Out, out, she chanted in her mind. Ever since she rode the ambulance to the hospital, she’d been willing the soul to leave her body, begging it to go away throughout her treatment by humans who seemed to care for her despite her sloppy entrance into town, despite her being a stranger. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get rid of it. Worse, kindness was feeling pretty good when it used to make her sick. How much longer could she fool Lucifer into thinking she was doing her job? If he found out what had happened, she was toast. And if the Faithfull family learned of her true mission . . . well, she was still toast.
Think of something, Shay. Think!
No plan beyond hiding out came to her. No ideas. No strategy. Where were those wits she was so sure she possessed? “You stupid creature.” She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering Lucifer’s tirade before he sent her from Hell. He made no secret that he thought her stupid. Vile, yes, but lacking in the wits department. Anger lanced through her, and she opened her eyes, glaring at the pond. She was smarter than her master thought, and she’d prove it. How, she didn’t yet know, but it would come to her; surely it would.
By now, Lucifer would be wondering why she hadn’t reported in with her status. Soon she had to send word of her progress, or he’d grow suspicious. Her master knew her weaknesses. Even now he might be watching her holding little Damon, the scene projected on the molten walls of his lair.
“More!”
She pressed more bread into Damon’s outstretched hand. His baby fragrance drifted to her. Babies mystified her; she knew little about them and wasn’t interested in learning more, yet there was an innocence about them, a goodness, that she’d never really noticed before. Perhaps you were not capable of noticing. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, least of all Lucifer, she touched her lips to the top of little Damon’s head, her favorite spot. Soft, warm skin, silken curls. Her hand drifted lower, down to the babe’s fragile neck, so easily snapped . . .
No.
Gasping, she snatched back her hand. Assassinating the babe ensured her master’s future. Letting it live assured her master’s end. Kill or spare the child: each of her potential actions contradicted the other. She’d seen people tortured on the rack during the Middle Ages, pulled apart by opposing forces. Torn between good and evil, between conscience and duty, she decided the rack could not have been any worse than this.
Tiny fingers landed on her cheek, turning her head to bring her eye to eye with the child she was supposed to kill. Those gray blue eyes searched hers, deeply and with disarming intensity. Swallowing, Shay turned her eyes away, lest the little one see her purpose and her true nature.
The boy’s sticky hand pressed on her chin, forcing her gaze back to his. A year-old babe imposing his will on an ancient demon! No wonder her lord wanted the child dead.
“Shay . . . good,” the child said. “Good Shay.”
Choked with guilt, she hugged him close, burying her nose in that pile of curls. “You know I’m not good,” she whispered. “I’m a monster. But I can’t do it.” Yet. “You’re safe.” For now.
The only certainty was her demise. No matter what her decision, it would bring about the end of her existence.
“Birdie!” Shay lifted her head at little Damon’s cry. With the child cradled close, she turned around. A raven had landed in one of the surrounding trees. Even without her demon powers, she sensed something amiss in its presence. Was it Lucifer’s minion, here to check on her? Or was she just being paranoid, hindered by her new, humanlike weakness?
“More birdies!”
Several other ravens flew into the trees, ruffling their shiny black feathers as they settled in to watch her. Their small, obsidian eyes followed her every step.
The sound of more approaching ravens came from behind her. A pinpoint of red glowed in their eyes now. Subdemons. Her pulse quickened. Don’t act afraid. Lucifer will sense it. Shadows flew all around them, swooping uncomfortably close. She glanced wildly in the direction of the house. The more mortals to stand against subdemons, the better the chances of success. Even Lucifer accepted that. It was why he sent the inferior creatures in large numbers. She opened her mouth to call for help.
And stopped before she uttered a cry. To call attention to the sudden interest of the subdemons in her and the babe was to risk raising suspicion as to what she was and why she was here. She could—and would—handle this on her own.
She kept her voice calm. “Shall we go inside, little Damon? I will feed you one of your mother’s brownies.” A confection Shay had quickly become addicted to, she was happy to say. She deposited the babe in the stroller and gave the contraption a shove. It might not be a chariot, but she could steer it like one if she had to.
The ravens cawed, as if calling her back. Speak with us. The command rang in her head. She ignored them. The Dark Lord wants an answer.
“Shove it up your arses,” she muttered.
“Arses!” the babe repeated.
“I will complete this mission in my own time,” she sneered at the demons. ??
?I will not be rushed. Do you hear? Tell your master to leave me be, or the trust I have gained with the family will be for naught.” She jogged away from the pond, pushing the stroller along a dirt path. “Don’t say arses,” she told the babe. “It’s not a nice word.”
The cottage came into sight. Seeing it, she almost sobbed with relief. Then a deep, threatening growl brought her to a halt.
Damon and Harmony kept several goats. One of them stood in the middle of the path ahead. Its eyes were unnaturally bright—bright red. It should have been calling “Maaah.” Instead it was growling like a wolf, its lips drawn back over yellowed fangs.
Little Damon pouted. “Bad doggie.”
Shay grabbed a fallen stick and turned to face the new subdemon. “Go! I gave you my answer—go now.”
With a breathtaking purpose, it clawed at the dirt with a cloven hoof and advanced on them. Shay stood between the stroller and the creature. It would have to kill her, or at least hurt her badly, to get past. She didn’t want to think about that right now. Keep positive, she told herself in disgustingly optimistic mortal fashion as she held the stick out in front of her. Without powers, it was all about appearances, she realized. She put all the menace she could muster in her face and body and assumed the stance of a warrior.
The goat leaped. Shay raised the stick, gladiator-style. A loud pop tore through the silence. A second later, the goat was lying still on the path many feet from the reach of her stick. How?
Several smaller pops followed. Dark feathers and silver pellets rained down. One by one, the ravens disappeared from the trees. Then, like a vision of vengeance, Quel Laredo strode out of the woods, a weapon in each hand.
“Hello, angel,” he said. “We’re gonna have to talk about the company you keep.”
Six
“My, aren’t we the center of attention,” Quel said as he sauntered toward Shay.