by S W Vaughn
“Leave her alone.” Too late to pretend he saw nothing now. He strode around the couch toward the lesser demon. “Don’t come here again. You’re not welcome.”
The Tempter laughed, a low, bubbling sound that grated like coarse sand. And then he bared his fangs and lunged straight at Jaeryth.
Though he knew the demon was no more substantial than the smoke he’d arrived in, Jaeryth threw his arms up to block the passage. But the Tempter phased right through him, filling him briefly with cold revulsion, and was gone.
Shivering a bit, Jaeryth turned his attention to Logan—only to find her eyes rolling back as she slumped toward the floor.
He managed to catch her just before she collapsed completely. When she did not try to stand on her own, he carried her to the couch and settled her there. She was beginning to come around. He wasn’t certain how she would react to his acknowledgment of the Tempter’s existence, but he suspected it would not bode well for his efforts to win her over.
Hell’s flames. How could he have been so foolish? The impulse to protect her had overridden all thought. He could not let that happen again—his mission was to corrupt her, not save her. An eternity of torment awaited his failure. And now, with a single act, he may have already consigned himself to Tartarus.
She opened her eyes and fixed him with a hollow stare. “You saw it,” she said in halting tones. “The black-eyed…thing.”
He flinched. “Yes. I did.”
“It knew you.”
Damn. He’d been hoping she hadn’t noticed that. “Apparently,” he muttered in the direction of the floor. Now would come accusations and anger. She would tell him to leave. Perhaps she’d even realize what he was—she was Nabi, after all.
She stared at him a moment longer with what seemed like deliberation, and then let out a shaking breath. “So, those things are what’s after you,” she said.
Shock kept him from responding immediately. Could it really be this simple? “Yes,” he said slowly. It was true, more or less.
“And you didn’t want to tell me because it sounds crazy.”
He nodded. Again, mostly true.
“Well, I must be crazy too.” A hesitant smile broke across her face, flooding him with inexplicable warmth. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad you see them. I thought they were hallucinations or something. But if we both see them, they must be real. Right?”
“Yes,” he said. “They are real.”
Her smile faded slowly, and her gaze unfocused. “What are they?” she murmured.
“I have no idea.”
“Jaeryth.”
When she spoke his name, fresh heat infused him. How long he’d waited to hear that—though he would have preferred different circumstances. The gentle recrimination in her tone was unmistakable. Still, he managed to meet her gaze and waited for her to continue.
“You lied to me.”
Blood flushed hot along his neck. Had he been that obvious? He’d always prided himself on his ability to lie convincingly.
A slight smile turned the corners of her lips. “You don’t really have friends you can call,” she said. “If you did, you would’ve tried to get in touch with them by now.”
He let out the breath he’d been holding. “You’re right,” he said, and attempted a smile himself. “I am currently friendless.”
“Not any more.” She stood, took his hand and gave a brief squeeze. Her touch was fire. “I think…I mean, would you like to stay? Just until we can figure out how to get these guys off your back. And mine.” She couldn’t hide the shudder that went through her. “Us crazy people should probably stick together.”
Jaeryth could scarcely credit this fortunate turn of events. For an instant his thoughts flashed to the meddling Shepherd and he wondered if the heavenly maggot had anything to do with her offer. But it was not here now, so it could not be influencing her.
His smile was genuine this time. “I would be honored,” he said.
“Honored?” She raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’re still a little weird. But I forgive you.”
“And I appreciate your forgiveness.”
“You’re welcome.” Shaking her head, she stepped aside and gestured. “I’m going to make some coffee. And then we’re going to get you some clothes that fit. Sound good?”
“Perfect.”
He watched her move into the kitchen and then he settled on the couch to avoid staring at her the entire time. One day, he would have to inform Ronwe that his Tempter had helped him achieve his goals. The thought nearly made him laugh. He looked forward to rubbing Ronwe’s nose in his triumph when he was made a demon again.
And he ignored the tiny part of him that was beginning to protest his mission. He had to turn Logan. Eternity was far too long to spend in constant agony. And besides, once Logan was firmly on Hell’s side, he would be free to spend as much time with her as he wished. Provided Samael deigned to allow it.
He would not think about that, either.
Chapter Thirteen
Apparently, it didn’t matter whether Jaeryth wore clothes or not. He was dangerously attractive either way.
Logan had to force herself not to keep staring at him—if she didn’t, she’d probably walk straight into a telephone pole or something. Taking him on a bus would’ve been a bad idea. He’d had to wear the Tweety shirt after all, and a pair of foam-soled sandals, to cover the whole no-shirt, no-shoes thing. She didn’t have anything else.
At first she’d offered to get him to his place, but he said he wasn’t from around here. Still, he had to have clothes, so she’d sprung for a cab to the local thrift store. It was smaller than the Philly locations and she’d worried they would strike out on decent threads for him.
But it had been weirdly easy to find clothes, almost as if they were waiting there for him. He wore half of his new wardrobe now—black riveted pants, a long-sleeved black Under Armour shirt that conformed to his muscles like skin and black engineer boots that were similar to the ones he’d worn the first time they’d met.
He was sex on legs. And he was going to stay at her place.
She didn’t regret asking him. Okay, maybe she did, a little. She still didn’t know anything about him, not even his last name. And the simple fact of her strong physical attraction to him would make for some uncomfortable nights. But she couldn’t just turn him over to those black-eyed freaks, especially since he could see them too. Yeah, she’d passed out like a wuss when he confronted the thing in her house—but it had been from pure relief.
She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t alone in this any more.
They’d walked back to save the cab fare and they’d just passed the Wawa. It wouldn’t be long until they got to her place. And then what? The two of them could sit around and make awkward small talk, but that would get old pretty fast. They could discuss the freaks, but he didn’t seem to know much more than she did about what they were, or what they wanted.
Maybe they could ask one the next time it showed up. Wouldn’t that be fun.
She decided to concentrate on getting home first. Two more blocks. There was a small park ahead on this side of the road, with an open field and a few swings and slides beyond that. She’d never seen any kids actually playing there. Right now, it was deserted as usual.
And while her attention was on the park, she abruptly collided with something solid that knocked her breath out.
She pitched back, catching a glimpse of a startled face before Jaeryth’s arms went around her. That was the second time he’d saved her from a painful meeting with the ground. She’d have to thank him for this, when her head stopped spinning.
“I’m so sorry.” A male voice, unfamiliar. “Are you all right, miss?”
She shook herself, tested her legs and reluctantly eased away from Jaeryth. “I’m fine,” she said and focused on the speaker. Vague recognition set in—the stocky, middle-aged man in the tracksuit, with the scar under his eye. She’d seen him a bunch of times at the Wawa, enou
gh that she’d given him a nickname. Neighborhood Jogger Guy. But they’d never spoken, so she hadn’t heard his voice until now. It was mellow, tinged with a faint British accent and pleasant enough.
“I should really turn this down while I’m running.” With a sheepish smile, the man held up a dangling earbud. The other one was still seated in his ear. Music oozed from the loose bud, loud enough that she could make out the tune—Stone Temple Pilots’ “Interstate Love Song.” The one she’d auditioned for Ruined Soul with. “Are you sure you’re okay?” the man said.
She summoned a smile. “Yes. Just a little winded, is all.”
“Good. Because your friend there looks like he might punch me, and I’d rather not be punched.”
She glanced back at Jaeryth, who was glowering at the jogger with almost frightening intensity. It wasn’t easy to ignore the rush of heat that his obvious jealousy sent through her. Smirking, she laid a hand on his arm and said, “Down, killer. No harm done. It was an accident.”
Jaeryth snorted. “It had better be.”
“I assure you, it was.” The man wiped a hand on his thigh and held it out, smiling crookedly. “Nick Bridges. I believe I’ve seen you around the block, but haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you. And I’m truly sorry we’ve met like this.”
“Likewise.” She took the proffered hand. “Logan Frost. And my friend, Mr. Cranky, is—”
“I knew it!” Nick beamed at her.
Her brow furrowed. “Huh?”
“Ruined Soul. You’re the new singer.” Releasing her hand, he dug in a pocket, pulled out the iPod connected to the headphones and thumbed the touch screen. “I’ve got one of your songs in here somewhere…”
A torrent of butterflies erupted in her gut. “You do?” she stammered.
“Yeah. Friend of mine sent me a link. There’s a bunch of videos from the Eight Spot up on YouTube. I think I have—ah, here it is.” He unhooked the headphones, touched the screen a few times and turned it toward her.
A startlingly clear image of herself on stage appeared, smiling at the roaring crowd while the opening riff of “Hotel California” played. She stared, mesmerized, as mini-Logan cradled the microphone, drew it toward her and closed her eyes, then began to sing.
“Bloody fantastic performance.”
Nick’s statement snapped her from the trance. She breathed out and hot blood rushed to her face. “Um. Thanks,” she managed. “I didn’t know…”
“That you’re famous already?” Nick mercifully jacked the headphones back in and shut the device down, and she could almost breathe again. “I’m guessing it’s only local, for now,” he said. “But I think you’ll be big, very soon. You really are incredible.” He looked down and a flush spread over his face as he cleared his throat. “Actually, I’d planned to catch your show tonight. Er. That is, if you don’t mind.”
Logan swallowed. This was too weird. “Of course I don’t mind,” she managed. “Thanks. For, you know. Coming. To the show, I mean.” Oh, Christ. Could she sound any dumber?
“Great!” He grinned again. “Well, I’d better be off, then. Wonderful meeting you, and your…oh, I’m sorry. I broke off your introduction. You are?” Nick extended a hand.
Jaeryth glared at it and folded his arms. “Jaeryth,” he rumbled.
Logan elbowed him. Grudgingly, he relented and shook—one quick, hard pump.
“Now I’m very glad you didn’t punch me.” Nick flexed his fingers, as though he wanted to make sure they were still attached. His slight grimace morphed into a smile. “Cheers, Logan and Jaeryth,” he said. “Looking forward to the show tonight.” He offered a strange sort of salute, plugged his earbud back in and jogged off.
Logan let out an unsteady breath. “Okay,” she said. “That was crazy.”
“Are you certain you’re all right?” Jaeryth said.
“Yes.” She shook her head. “I think you should loosen up a little. The poor guy was more flustered than me. He didn’t mean anything.”
“He nearly knocked you down.”
“And you caught me, so everything’s fine.” She touched his hand. “Thanks for that, by the way. Again.”
“You are most welcome.”
She had to be imagining the husky note in his voice. And she definitely had to get her raging hormones under control. Lusting after him wouldn’t do either of them any good. “Well, come on,” she said. “We’ve got a block and a half left. Maybe we’ll make it all the way to the house this time.”
“Logan…”
Something in his tone wrenched at her heart. She stared at him. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” He closed his eyes. “We should go.”
“Right.”
They resumed walking, this time without incident. The encounter with Nick still seemed surreal, as though she’d been watching it happen to someone else. She’d never had a fan before. The idea that she’d just run into someone, literally, who happened to have heard of her—after one performance—was at once thrilling and disconcerting. Did famous people feel like this all the time?
She smothered a laugh. As if one person seeing a YouTube video made her famous.
“Logan,” Jaeryth said. “Were you expecting company?”
“What?” She jerked back to reality. Her place was visible from here, and there was a familiar sedan in the driveway. Tex. “Oh, shit,” she said, suddenly remembering Miss Turner’s caveat. She was supposed to provide Tex with a urine sample today.
Great. How the hell was she going to explain Jaeryth?
She slowed her pace and Jaeryth matched it. “Okay, look,” she half-whispered. “He can’t know why you’re here or anything about the freaks. He’ll call the cops.” She shivered. That wasn’t even the worst he could do. Tex was her friend, but he was still a counselor. And if he decided it was necessary, he could have her sent back to rehab—especially if he thought she was hallucinating. “We have to come up with a cover story.”
He frowned. “Perhaps you could tell him I’m a visiting relative?”
“No. I don’t have family, except—” She pressed her lips together. No sense bringing up Angie now. She wasn’t ready to explain that mess to anyone, least of all a virtual stranger. Instead she said, “He knows too much about me for that.”
“I see.” A thread of anger wound through his voice. More jealousy?
She sighed. No time to ask about that now. “I don’t suppose you play an instrument, or sing or anything.”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Didn’t think so.” There went passing him off as a fellow musician. She stared straight ahead, at the house and the damning car in the driveway. What believable—and innocent—reason would she have to hang around with a complete stranger? It had to involve Jaeryth coming to her place, because anything that involved her bringing someone home would sound suspicious. It’d probably help if he lived around here.
Like right across the street.
“Got it,” she said. “You live over there, in one of those townhouses. You came over to welcome me to the neighborhood and we went for a walk. How’s that?”
He cast a dubious look at the unbroken row of houses. “Which one?”
“Doesn’t matter. They’re all pretty much the same. Just follow my lead, okay?”
“Very well.”
She felt about as convinced as Jaeryth sounded, but it was the best she could do on short notice. Tex had already seen them and was coming down the porch steps, where he must’ve been knocking on the door. She felt terrible lying to him, but she couldn’t risk having Tex turn either of them in. With a steadying breath, she put on a smile and waved.
“Hey, Tex,” she said when they met on the front walk. It was tempting to just pretend she didn’t have a man tagging along with her—like maybe if she didn’t bring him up, Tex wouldn’t notice. But then she’d seem evasive. “Hope you haven’t been waiting too long. I wasn’t sure what time you’d swing by. This is Jaeryth, one of my new neighbors. Jaeryth, my
friend Tex.”
Christ, she was babbling. That probably wasn’t a good thing.
Tex’s faint, puzzled smile froze when he shifted his gaze to Jaeryth. His eyes widened, and for just an instant, an expression of pure fury flashed across his face. Then it was gone and Logan wondered if she’d imagined it. She’d never seen him look like that. “Hi, neighbor,” he said, in a tone so neutral it sounded fake. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Strained politeness sketched Jaeryth’s response.
Great. This was going well. At least Tex hadn’t questioned the cover story—he was too busy going territorial on her. She’d have to talk with him about this later. He was her friend and her counselor, not her father.
Attempting to diffuse some of the tension, she said, “We were just out walking and we got pretty warm, so I offered to make some iced tea. Did you want some?”
With apparent difficulty, Tex stopped glaring at Jaeryth and looked at her with an apologetic smile. “I have to head to the clinic,” he said. “More paperwork. I just stopped in to get—” He frowned. “What Miss Turner mentioned.”
“I know.” She hadn’t told Jaeryth about her history, but if he was going to stay, he’d find out soon anyway. “You have something for me to fill, right?”
Tex glanced at Jaeryth, and his jaw clenched. “Maybe we should go inside. Alone.”
“No, it’s fine.” She held out a hand.
He hesitated, and then produced a small, lidded, clear plastic jar with a baggie tucked inside. She’d done this a hundred times during rehab. It still stung that she had to do it now, but it was a small price to pay if it meant she’d get to keep singing. She would’ve paid a lot more.
“Thanks. Be right back.” She took the jar and turned to Jaeryth, who hadn’t bothered to stop glaring. “I’ll get that tea ready too,” she said. “Hang tight, okay?”
“Of course.”
She almost told them to play nice, but an admonishment would probably make things worse. Instead, she headed for the house, intending to take the fastest piss of her life. She’d just have to hope the two of them didn’t kill each other before she finished.
