Ad's frown tied his brows in a knot. "Yeah. I know him. Um . . . you get what we need?"
"Aren't you going to go talk to him?"
"No." He leaned in and snagged two hammers randomly. "Jim's getting the plywood. Come on--we need some nails and a saw."
Sissy glanced back at the guy, who didn't seem to notice her or Adrian. "How do you know him?"
"It's not important. Come on."
"Who is he?"
"Just a guy."
Giving up, she followed Adrian over an aisle and waited as he scored some boxes of nails. And then it was across into saw land.
Except before Ad made his choice from the two thousand available options, he stopped and stared at her. "How did you know him?"
She pointed to her own head. "He has a halo. Like me and Jim."
Those eyes of his shifted upward. "No offense, but I don't see anything there."
"Little gold circle. Like a floating string of light tied to itself. It's right here."
Ad shook his head. "I got nothing, but whatever. Let's get back and start fixing that room."
By the time they got over to the big-ass-pieces-of-wood section of the store, Jim was pushing a large rolling platform over to a bulk-items checkout--and he must have sensed her presence, because he glanced over his shoulder.
For a split second, she couldn't believe they'd actually had sex. That experience between the sheets seemed as distant as a dream, some kind of hazy hypothetical that maybe she'd just made up.
The delicious soreness between her thighs told her differently, however. So did her anger.
As there was no reason to wait next to Jim, she went over and stood by the automatic doors. People were milling all around, each with things in carts or in their arms, all of them with concentration on their faces like they had mental lists and busy enough lives so that having to come back for something they forgot was going to be a pain in the butt.
Not one of them had any idea what had happened yesterday in that parlor--or that they were being watched by someone who was not like them.
Hard to know whether their ignorance was a good thing or not. Would they be leading their lives differently if they were aware of what was really going on?
Probably. And it made her think of a game she and her sister had played: if you had twenty-four hours left to live, what would you do? She remembered her answers having a lot to do with chocolate. Then again, she'd been twelve the last time she'd--
God, she missed her parents. Her sister. Her friends.
Her life.
For no particular reason, she glanced out into the parking lot--and that was when she saw the car that didn't belong: A big, black Mercedes-Benz was cruising the store at a trolling speed, its sleek lines gleaming in the spring sunlight.
The windows were blacked out so she couldn't see who was driving, but she knew.
She knew.
As she stepped out of the store, the sedan eased to a stop in front of her and the passenger-side window went down. Sure enough, the demon was behind the wheel, and the instant Sissy locked eyes with her, the happy fact that they had both been with Jim crashed onto her head.
He had serviced them both. No doubt done the same things to Devina that he'd done to her just over an hour ago.
The kissing. The touching. The licking.
The sex.
Instantly, she was back in that parlor, holding Jim as he returned from the immortal dead, so relieved and a little superior that however much the demon seemed to want his attention, he had eyes only for her. But now? After he'd taken her virginity?
He was as cold to her as he'd been to the demon.
"That fucking bastard," Sissy hissed.
The demon leaned across the empty passenger seat. In a grim voice, she said, "Get in."
Chapter
Twenty-one
"That'll be four hundred ninety-eight dollars and seventy-six cents."
Jim went for his wallet, shoving his hand into his back pocket. Taking out one of his credit cards, he was glad it had been under a month since he'd officially "died." All his accounts were still open.
Come to think of it, he probably needed to liquidate his money before his death became a reality to the banks. Then again, who exactly was going to notify them that he'd died? Long as the monthlies were paid, he could go on forever.
Not that he had forever.
"We gotta find that fucking soul," he said as he swiped the MasterCard down the reader.
"What'd you say?"
He glanced up at the clerk. "Nothing. And no, I don't have one of those savings-card things."
"Well, if you'd like to sign up, you'd save--"
"No. Thanks."
He glanced over at Sissy and lost all train of thought as he saw her: The light was streaming into the open bay, catching the blond streaks in her hair and the glow in her skin. Her body was mostly hidden underneath the baggy sweatshirt, but he knew firsthand exactly how perfect she was built.
As his cock got to throbbing, he glared at his hips. Nope, he told the damn thing. Not the time, not the place, and definitely not with how things were between them.
Closing his eyes for a second, he intended to give himself a pull-it-together-man-whore pep talk--except all he ended up with were snapshots of her naked and spread, her body arching as he worked her out at her breasts.
Not what he needed. Not what was helpful.
Trouble was, his instincts were still to get her horizontal and go NIN on her. Except how was that going to work for them? They weren't speaking, for one thing--for another, she wasn't going to be ready for what he wanted now. Or probably ever.
She wasn't the "fuck you like an animal" type.
"Guess who I just ran into."
Jim glanced over at his wingman. "Who."
"Matthias."
"No . . . shit."
"Yeah. Actually, Sissy pointed him out." Adrian took some initiative and picked up the bag with the hammers and nails from the holders. "Mind if we hit Starbucks on the way home?"
"How the hell could she know him?" He frowned and looked to the entrance. "Wait, where is she--"
"Here's your receipt, sir."
She'd been standing by the exit, right by the fucking exit--
"Sir? Your receipt?"
"Where the hell is--"
Ad stepped in front of him. "She's probably just wandering around. Where the fuck would she go? You stay here. I'll find her."
When Jim went to walk off, Ad locked a grip on his arm and yanked him back. "Stay. Here. I'll go get her."
The guy was probably right. Jim was liable to bark at her for disappearing even though she'd no doubt only gone for a stroll down the gardening aisle or something.
Pushing the rolling platform with the plywood off to the side, he waited by the door and patted his pockets for his cigarettes. Damn it, he'd left them back home--but it wasn't like he could have lit up here anyway.
Where was she?
Always a firm believer in not panicking until it was time to, he threw a saddle on his adrenal gland and reined that shit in. Unfortunately, as Adrian came limping back with a frown on his puss and absolutely, positively no Sissy with him, Jim knew that something had gone bad.
"I can't find her," the other angel said. "Maybe she's out at the Explorer."
Jim exhaled in relief and felt like an amateur. Of course she'd go hang there. Take a load off. Blah, blah, blah.
Except when they went out to the SUV, she wasn't anywhere near the thing. Or walking in the parking lot.
Leaving Ad with the stuff, Jim jogged back into the store and made quick work of the twelve million square acres of shelf space. Nothing. No Sissy.
As he ran full tilt from the store and back to Adrian, one last hope that she might have turned up got blown out of the water as he found Ad alone.
"Jesus Christ," Jim demanded, "where is she?"
"He fucked you, didn't he."
As Sissy sat beside the demon in the Mercedes, sh
e was too pissed off to be scared. Too pissed off even to speak.
"Well." Devina glared across the interior of the car. "Didn't he."
She wasn't about to share details with the enemy. But there was a serious satisfaction in slapping the bitch with, "Yes, he did."
There was a long stretch of silence as the demon came to a full stop at a red light and then accelerated in a civilized way when the thing turned green.
Guess she was a law abider in some senses.
Sissy passed the time checking out the interior of the car. She'd never been in a Mercedes before, much less one of the super-fancy models: Everything was sleek lines and high-tech, leather and polished wood--the only thing out of place being the lack of a hood ornament out in front.
Hard to imagine anyone stealing something from the root of all evil and getting away with it.
"How'd he do you?" the demon gritted out. "From behind? He likes me from behind."
Oh, there was a picture. "Not going there. But you know it's true, don't you."
There must have been some way that Devina had known she'd been a virgin in the first place--only logical to assume the demon would be aware when she was no longer one.
"Does he pull your hair?" Devina demanded. "Bite your nipples? He's rough. Was he rough with you?"
No, she thought. He was anything but rough.
Devina looked over again. "We broke the door on the shower at the hotel. The night before last."
Maybe this wasn't a good idea, Sissy thought. 'Cause these little sound bites were making her feel like punching something.
"He didn't sleep when he was with me. Did he sleep when he was with you?"
"Yes," Sissy answered. And then wished she'd kept her mouth shut.
"He was probably tired out from being with me."
"Or the trip to Purgatory." Sissy glanced over at the demon, measuring the stunning beauty that was just an illusion. "Is there a purpose to all this?"
"Yes, yes, there is. I want you to know that he hurt me really badly. Back in that parlor." The demon met Sissy's eyes. "And he's going to do the same to you. You think I'm evil? You think Hell was bad? That is nothing compared to what that man is going to do to you. You're in love with him, I can tell. So am I. And he has treated me with a total lack of respect."
"Maybe he's just not that into you."
"It's his nature, little girl. You don't understand how he got this job. Don't be fooled by anything he says or does--he is half-evil."
"I can't trust a thing you say, you realize."
"Trust me, don't trust me, I don't give a fuck--your opinion about what I'm telling you doesn't change the truth. Back in the beginning, Nigel and I had to both agree on the savior who would be influencing the souls. Jim is fifty-fifty, which is why we each gave our consent." Devina put her directional signal on and made a smooth left turn. "I should have known he'd do this to me. And you might as well know what he's really like."
"No offense, but he refers to you as the enemy."
"Not when he's with me, he doesn't."
Sissy frowned and looked out the front windshield. The spring day was a beacon of summer soon to come, and people in other cars had their windows down.
How she envied them.
The demon shook her head. "Like I said, I don't care whether or not you believe me--because sooner or later, Jim's going to fuck you over."
"I'm not getting involved with him," Sissy heard herself say.
"You two had sex. You're involved. Unless you expect me to believe a girl who saves it until she's how old suddenly decides to just bang a guy? Personally, I find that prudish bullshit nauseating, but like he has his nature, you have yours."
Well, then hers was changing. She couldn't remember ever having this kind of temper.
"Did he tell you what he did to the men who killed his mother?"
Sissy glanced over again, and found herself staring at the demon's perfect profile as dread nailed her in the chest.
"No. He didn't tell me about her." Matter of fact, she hadn't heard him say one thing about his past. Then again, it wasn't like they'd been on any traditional dates--or had a break in the drama that had lasted long enough for some quiet, reflective conversation.
"He slaughtered them. Hacked them up into little pieces--while they were alive. And don't take my word for it. Do a search under his name."
"Listen, this is none of my business--"
"Look him up." The demon gave her a hard smile. "Iowa. Type his name into Google and it'll all come up. The killings were so violent they made the national news, but he wasn't prosecuted. He supposedly didn't live that long--except that was a lie. The body found in that car crash wasn't really his. The U.S. government covered it all up so they could have him and use him like the weapon he is."
"I'm sorry, what the hell are you saying?"
"Jim Heron, the hero who 'saved' you from me"--the demon had to take both hands off the steering wheel to do the air quotes--"made his living killing people for the country. You think I'm a sick bitch? Ask him how he got paid for over two decades. It wasn't gathering intel. It was putting bullets in people's heads. That tattoo on his back? He has it because he's proud of his work."
The demon hit the brakes at a stop sign and looked over, her black eyes glittering. "The man who took your virginity is no angel. He's a murderer without a conscience. Which is precisely why he and I get along so well."
Sissy opened her mouth to say something. To deny it. To . . .
Except instead of speaking, she just resumed staring out the window.
A little later, the Mercedes came to a halt in front of the old mansion, and all Sissy could do was look up at the window that was across the hall from her bedroom.
Picturing how they'd spent the night, she wanted to vomit.
"That's right," the demon said in a voice that warped. "Know that I speak the truth. And don't be a fucking pussy. Do something about it."
"Like what," she whispered.
"Fight fire with fire."
"I don't understand."
"Your anger is the most powerful weapon against him. Use it. Teach him a lesson. Show him that what he's done to you and to me is a sin for which he must atone."
"Isn't that stuff supposed to be left to God."
"Yes, and God provides us our destinies. Yours is to fight back."
"I can't trust you."
"But you can trust yourself. You'll know what to do. When the time is right, you'll know exactly what to do. Now get the fuck out of my car."
The demon didn't have to ask twice. Sissy popped the handle on the door and slid free of the seat.
The Mercedes took off before she'd shut things, leaving her alone with nothing but all those images of Jim doing things to that other woman's body.
That fucking bastard.
Chapter
Twenty-two
Jim took Angel Airlines to his destination, leaving Ad to drive the Explorer--but whether in flight or on the ground, where he went wasn't that far from Home Depot.
Sissy's parents' house fit in with the tidy neighborhood, the two-story set back on its lot, that pastel Easter flag still by the front door even though the holiday had long passed. No Subaru parked in the driveway, no lights on, but it was a sunny morning.
He walked right in.
And as soon as he was through the front door, he stopped and listened. No sounds of anyone moving, nobody talking on a phone, no TV on. He strode quickly around the first floor, then jogged up to the second. He popped his head into her old room. In her sister's. In her parents'. Went to a window and looked out at the shallow backyard.
Goddamn it.
On his way back to the stairs he stopped at her room again, checking to see if anything was gone or had changed. Having a photographic memory was a bonus.
Nothing was out of place that he could tell.
Downstairs, he stalled in the foyer, putting his hands on his hips and staring at the floor as his brain chewed over the alternati
ves.
A second later, he took out his phone and called Ad. When the guy answered, Jim muttered, "Not here. I'm rerouting to the cemetery."
Hanging up, he put his palm forward and closed his eyes, envisioning the perimeter of the house marked by a notification spell--so that if she did end up here, he'd know it.
What he really should have done was put some kind of a tracer on her. Too bad Eddie wasn't around. That guy would have been able to tell him how to do it.
When he popped open his lids, a subtle blue glow shimmered on the walls, floors, and windows, like the place had been spray-painted. It was all he could do.
Just as he turned to leave, he caught sight of that armchair in the living room, the one he'd found Sissy's mother in, back before Sissy's body had been discovered in the quarry, back when there had still been some kind of hope for this family that the daughter they were all desperate to have back might still come home.
Before he ducked out, he leaned in and glanced over at the bookcase full of family photos. With a quick jab into his pocket, he snagged his phone and went over, putting the thing up and focusing the lens on his favorite picture of Sissy.
Click.
Then he was off, his wings carrying him over the residential neighborhood and toward the area of town where the Pine Grove Cemetery took up acres and acres of land. He remembered exactly where Sissy's grave was and soared above the treetops and the grave markers, cutting across the Chutes and Ladders lane system that the cars had to stick to.
She wasn't there, either.
Landing next to her granite gravestone, his heart tightened up at the sight of the plastic-wrapped bouquets and green potted flowers that had been placed around where her earthly remains had been buried.
Where the hell was she?
Then again, maybe that was the answer. Looking down at his feet, he pictured Devina's Well of Souls and his empty stomach rolled.
He quickly texted an update to Adrian . . . and sent out a beacon to the enemy. If that fucking demon had screwed with his woman?
The last thing Devina was going to have to worry about was whether or not she won the war.
Pacing up and down on the grass, he waited . . . and waited. Just like the bitch to take her sweet time--
As his phone rang, he took it out and answered the damn thing. "Yeah?"
"She's here. At home."
"What?"
Ad's voice stayed quiet, like maybe she was in the next room and he didn't want her to hear him. "Yup. Says she got bored and decided to head back."