by Jenny McKane
The door slammed shut, making Sunny jump. The Mercedes engine roared to life, and Michael pumped the gas for show before peeling out in a screech of tires and smoke. The three SUVs fell in line behind the sports car and within a second, she was standing alone in the darkened parking lot with Gideon.
She was at a loss as to what to say to him. “Hey, how’s it going?” seemed a little trite and “Sorry you’ve been bound in depraved sexual service for the past six months” wasn’t really where she wanted to go, either. Plus, the fact that he wouldn’t make eye contact with her was a little unnerving.
“Let’s go.”
She didn’t know where she was going, but as long as she wasn’t expected to drive the small talk, she’d follow Gideon for now. He walked with long, quick strides, and she had to struggle to keep up, nearly running across intersections as he loped off the street and onto the sidewalk. Her lungs burned by the time they’d made it six blocks, and without knowing there would eventually be an end in sight, she was certain she would pass out from lack of oxygen.
He must have sensed her struggle, or at least heard the raspy wheezing, because he slowed his gait just enough for her to keep up. As they kept moving through the city streets, the dilapidated neighborhood began to seem familiar—it was hers. Gideon stopped in front of her red brick building and motioned for her to pass. She led the way to the door and fiddled with the key, dropping it twice before he snatched it off the ground and wedged her out of the way with his huge body.
His nearness was unsettling. His heat reached her through their various layers of clothing, and he somehow smelled like soap and sandalwood, and the thought finally hit her—no sulfur.
How was that possible?
She backed up a few feet more for breathing room and ran up the stairs after him when he’d opened the door. He opened the door to her apartment, as well, and she stopped at the doorway.
“How did you know where I lived?” she asked, not moving inside, but placing her hands on the doorframe.
He looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes. Was it frustration? Or had she uncovered something he didn’t want her to know?
“You’ve got two minutes to pack a bag,” he said, instead of answering her. “Grab anything you can’t live without for a few weeks, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”
He didn’t wait for her to respond and pushed past her, jogging down the stairs and out into the night.
She blew out a long breath and considered locking the door and hiding underneath her covers. Except the only problem was her sheets were in the washer at the moment and he didn’t seem the sort to let a thin, wooden door stand in his way.
She grabbed clothes and toiletry items as quickly as she could and dumped them into an old sea bag she’d picked up at an Army-Navy Surplus store in Bellevue. Because she had room and because she couldn’t imagine leaving them unprotected in the world without her, she threw her antiquities books in on top, and rounded up the dilapidated cat carrier she used to take Noodle to the vet. It had Transformer stickers all over from its previous owner and a wall of duct tape around the front to keep the gate portion from falling out. With a little bribing and a lot of shoving, she finally managed to squeeze Noodle’s oversized orange cat body into the crate and clicked it shut. He protested loudly at first but set to purring as soon as the swaying movements of Sunny walking down the staircase rocked him into a temporary trance.
Outside, Gideon had a cab waiting. The trunk popped open when she approached, and she wrestled the overstuffed green bag into the space and slammed it shut. She climbed in beside Gideon, who eyed Noodle and raised an eyebrow.
“You said weeks,” she said defensively. “He goes where I go.”
Noodle hissed through the thin bars that separated him from Gideon and even attempted to swat his claw at him through the crate.
“Cats hate demons,” Gideon said in a growl.
“Huh,” Sunny said, looking out the window as the cab pulled away. “So do I.”
Chapter 2
The taxi ride was a long one that took them from the city’s center out toward a part of town she’d never been to. Her new companion didn’t speak and neither did their driver, so the only sound to keep her company was her cat’s incessant meowing and crying at the indignity of being cooped up in a vehicle with a demon.
Noodle would not be hushed, and no amount of awful smelling fish treats would appease him. He was simply unwilling to settle into a peaceful ride in an overheated cab with a servant of darkness.
Sunny wasn’t used to keeping quiet long, and eventually she couldn’t stand the silence anymore.
“Where are we going?”
He didn’t look at her and kept his gaze out the window. The sun was rising now, giving the passing industrial area a gray light. The moments ticked by painfully slow until Sunny was absolutely certain he was ignoring her. She opened her mouth to speak again, but he interrupted her.
“I have a place. It will be safer,” he said, still not taking his eyes from the window.
“It seems like we’ve been driving forever. Is it far? I’ve still got work every night at eleven, and I used up all my vacation time a few months ago.”
A few months ago, she’d nearly had a mudhole stomped in her head by Azriel himself. It had taken a few weeks to recover and return to her normal shift.
Sunny wondered if this Gideon and Azriel knew each other. Maybe they were related. Hell, maybe they had apartments in the same forsaken building.
“You’re not going back to work,” Gideon said finally. “It’s not safe. You’re staying at my place until we finish this.”
He spoke so plainly, as though there were no room for discussion, as though he didn’t know who he was dealing with in Sunshine Bonnard.
“Not an option,” she argued. “I need the job.”
The demon-man sighed heavily.
“You can’t go back while we work on this case; it’s simple as that,” he said. “While we’re working, you’ll be in danger. If we succeed, you won’t need a minimum wage job. If we fail, you’ll be dead.”
“Nice,” Sunny said sarcastically. “I happened to like that job.”
Gideon shrugged. Again.
“Stop shrugging,” she snapped. “It’s a big deal to me.”
Instead of shrugging, Gideon returned his gaze to the world outside. Sunny knew she’d been shut out again, so she gave up the attempt at conversation.
So, she was back to being unemployed again. Perfect. At least she’d grabbed the majority of what she owned, so when the landlord evicted her and emptied her apartment, she wasn’t losing much more than a few thrift store dishes and a musty old couch she never used. Sunny had always preferred sitting on floors.
The rest of the ride was agonizingly quiet, and when the cab finally pulled to a stop in front of a row of large warehouses, she thought she would burst with a torrent of annoying small talk, useless words, and obnoxious drivel. She was nearly shaking from the effort to remain silent and not hammer the man with a million more questions about where they were, what they were doing next, or even what was for breakfast.
Gideon exited the cab and stood by as Sunny struggled to free the cat crate from the back seat and the duffle bag from the trunk. Fully overloaded with pet and gear, she waddled behind Gideon as he led her to a side door of one of the abandoned warehouses and unlocked a heavy metal door. He pushed it open and held it, motioning for Sunny to walk through.
It was dark inside, so she went far enough to not be in the way, but didn’t go any further. Truth be told, she hated the dark. It was a childhood phobia she never quite got over, and while she’d be hard-pressed to really admit it out loud, the truth was that darkness, especially in unfamiliar places, made her pulse and imagination race.
After a series of clicks and clanks, Gideon had locked what seemed like a dozen deadbolts and even put a heavy bar across the door’s frame. At last, he walked through the darkness to an unlit stairwell and began jogging up. Sun
ny tried her best to stay with him, but without being able to see what she was doing and being loaded down with a huge bag and an angry feline, she struggled every few steps and stumbled in the darkness.
Cursing, she pulled herself up and nearly crashed into the large body of Gideon. He’d stopped.
“Demons have excellent vision in the darkness,” he said. “Apparently, humans don’t.”
Sunny snorted. “No kidding.”
On the third floor, after another series of unlocking and relocking the equivalent of a vault door at Fort Knox, Gideon flipped on a single light that did little to illuminate the big, empty space. If anything, it succeeded in making the mostly unfurnished flat look creepier.
“We’ll stay here while we look for Seumat,” Gideon said.
Sunny followed him across what was likely a living room space (a fireplace and mantle against the wall gave her a hint) into the kitchen area. There was a sink and a refrigerator in a dark corner, as well as a marble-topped island that seemed distinctly out of place without any walls or other means to define space in the apartment. What a strange place to put a small countertop.
“I need to sleep,” he continued. “There isn’t a couch, but there might be a chair or at least a box in the far corner back by the bathroom. You can take a look. Or not. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
With that, Gideon walked to a far corner and collapsed onto a shabby futon that had been pushed into a far corner. Too small for his large frame, it looked incredibly uncomfortable, though he didn’t seem to notice, as Gideon was snoring loudly within minutes of collapsing.
Alone with nothing to do, Sunny checked on Noodle. The cat was asleep in his carrier, so she left him where he slept. The long night shift was catching up to Sunny, and after searching the far corners of the loft for any sort of mattress or blanket and coming up short, she laid down near the fireplace and used her bag as a makeshift and uncomfortable pillow. As much as it should have been difficult to fall asleep on a hard floor with little cushion and no blanket, her mind and body needed the rest, and soon Sunny was asleep as well.
*****
It was dark when Sunny opened her eyes. Very dark. After a few short moments of confusion, she remembered that she’d fallen asleep in an empty warehouse loft and that a demon slept a few yards away from her. It also struck her, as she rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn, that it was odd she still didn’t smell the telltale sulfur that usually accompanied demons. Did he have some sort of masking mechanism? Did the stench belong to a certain class of demons? She’d have to ask Gideon whenever he woke up.
Sunny fished the cellphone out of her back pocket and flipped it open to check the time—a little past seven p.m.. She blinked a few times and wondered how she slept for almost nine hours without realizing it. Pushing herself up to her feet, she searched the darkness for the sleeping demon and was surprised to find the futon empty. She quickly scanned the flat for him with no luck.
He was gone.
With nothing else to do, Sunny hopped onto the kitchen countertop, flipped her phone back open, and checked her e-mail. There were three notices from the bank about overdue student loans she’d probably never be able to pay off, an urgent message from a member of the royal family of Ghana asking her to hold a large sum of cash, (she loved that particular scam—the entreaty seemed so real and heartfelt that she almost felt bed for deleting the message), and a message from Michael. Her stomach dropped when she saw the familiar return address, and for a moment, she didn’t make a move.
Sunny considered shutting her phone and reading it later, but once the initial fear had passed, her curiosity won.
“S. has help. Lots of help. Try not to die.”
She couldn’t help but snort at that one.
“Try not to die,” she repeated out loud and laughed. Michael had a way with words. She didn’t understand what he meant by Seumat having help though. That was a little disconcerting, and in a game where Sunny always felt two steps behind and without a copy of the rulebook, this new development was troubling.
The door downstairs closed with a bang and Sunny heard the telltale sounds of the locks and steel bar clicking into place. The demon was back.
Gideon appeared at the top of the stairs seconds later and carried a cardboard cup of coffee from the local, overpriced coffee house. It smelled divine, and she was more than a little put out that he only had the one cup with him.
Without a word, he put the tall cup in front of her on the marble counter and strode away. She needed no more invitation than that.
“I got an email from Michael,” she called out to nobody in particular, as Gideon had disappeared somewhere into the loft.
She waited for him to respond. Nothing.
“He said something about Seumat having help, but he didn’t elaborate,” she said, undeterred by his silence and obvious lack of interest in having a conversation with her.
“I know.”
He was closer than she realized, just off to her left. With the bare lighting from the unofficial kitchen area casting a paltry glow on him, she watched Gideon change his shirt. Sunny had never seen a shirtless demon, but Gideon didn’t fit the image she had in her mind. He looked very, very…human. Odd.
“He didn’t give me any other details. Just a warning not to die tonight.”
She hoped that last part might get a laugh or even a snort from him, but no luck. He was stone-faced as he turned back toward Sunny and rejoined her at the marble countertop.
He had changed from the dark jeans and olive-green t-shirt he’d been wearing earlier. Dressed in black from top to bottom, Gideon had pulled his shoulder-length hair into a low ponytail at his neck and threw a dark leather motorcycle jacket onto the counter.
“You should get ready.”
Sunny glanced down at her outfit and shrugged, unsure what he meant.
“I’m good to go, I guess.”
Gideon shook his head and frowned.
“You look like a frumpy college student,” he said. “Fine for holing up in a radio station, but it won’t work where we’re going. You need to at least pretend you belong in these places.”
“I didn’t exactly pack my ballgown,” she said defensively, seeing nothing wrong with the cargo pants, hoodie sweatshirt, and flip flops she wore.
“Anything in that foul-smelling bag has to be better than what you’ve got on,” he said. “And it wouldn’t hurt to brush your hair and try a little makeup.”
She wasn’t sure why, but Sunny was really offended that this demon-man didn’t approve of her. More than anything, she wanted to fire back a jab at him, but the man looked both dangerous and dead sexy at the same time. It didn’t even seem like he was trying, and that made the effect even worse.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said in a small voice, pushing herself off the counter. She was pretty sure she didn’t pack any miracles in that old sea bag—nothing she owned would catapult her into Gideon’s league in terms of dress and natural good looks. But maybe a little Cover Girl wouldn’t hurt.
She dumped out the entire contents of her bag and pawed through the books and manuscripts to get to the clothing. She decided on a pair of dark washed jeans and a black V-neck shirt. It wasn’t fancy, but it was long-sleeved and fit well. Her makeup had been tossed in an old grocery bag that she scooped up. The brush took a little longer to find, and she wasn’t sure she’d even packed one. Her hair was always in some version of a ponytail or messy nest of a bun, so hairbrushes didn’t rate high on her priority list.
With all her second-rate supplies, Sunny retreated to the bathroom in the far corner of the loft, right near the futon where Gideon slept.
She made quick work of changing. The makeup and hair took a little longer and wasn’t without a lot of frustration, especially when it came to what to do with her tangled mop. She settled on letting it fall free and used a few well-placed pins to secure it off her forehead. There wasn’t much else she could do, she reasoned, and she turned the light out.
Gideon didn’t spare her a glance when she joined him, so Sunny had no idea if she met his standards for the night.
“Where are we going?”
“A couple private clubs,” he said. When Gideon noticed the soft leather ballet flats she wore, he shook his head. “Seriously?”
She looked down at her feet.
“What?” she asked. “It was either this or flip flops.”
“You’re going to break your ankle in those,” he said. “Don’t say you weren’t warned.”
Sunny had never had a problem with feeling inadequate as a demon tracker before, but now she felt downright incompetent. Gideon had made a point. Her line of work was dangerous and usually involved a whole lot of physical altercations, weapons, and threats to her life. Surely ballet flats were a terrible choice in footwear.
“Next time I get around to shopping, I’ll keep your advice in mind,” she said with a sour tone. It was annoying how right he was. “Did Michael talk to you?” She hadn’t forgotten the fact that Seumat having helpers wasn’t news to him.
“He did.”
She waited.
“And?”
Getting information from him was probably the most frustrating task she’d undertaken in the past year and a half—and she’d been beaten to a bloody pulp by Azriel in recent memory. She’d surely take another ass kicking over trying to communicate with Gideon.
“Seumat has a large following,” he said. “She has plenty of willing recruits ready to follow her command. This means she’ll be hard to find and harder to stop.”
“But you have an idea where to start?”
He nodded and motioned for her to follow him. They were leaving.
She opened the front of Noodle’s cage and ignored the pointed look Gideon gave her.
“He better not piss in here.”
Dammit.
Cats needed litter boxes, didn’t they? She’d obviously forgotten Noodle’s and added it to the list of things she needed to buy, assuming she made it to sunrise. She scooped the cat up from inside his carrier and tossed him gently in the bathroom, closing the door against his steady stream of protests.
