up, and my anger hesitated at the almost hidden desperation showing in his clenched jaw. “I . . . I want back in,” he finally said, and with that, my anger fizzled to nothing. “You did it,” he said, sounding hurt. “You not only used forbidden magic that called the Goddess to the very doorstep of your soul, but you have an unrepentant relationship with the elven Sa’han.”
“They barely tolerate me,” I said softly.
“But they do tolerate you,” he insisted. “True, your Kalamack elf is the self-styled prince of the elves, but he’s an elf!”
“And you were doing so well,” I said with a frown, and Bis made a rock-grinding chuckle of agreement from his perch.
“You fail to understand,” Hodin insisted. “You’re the only demon to whom I can say the Goddess isn’t evil and have anything but a frown thrown at me. Yes, she’s wicked,” he said, his words finding the cadence of an often-said statement. “And a trickster, and distractible, and flighty in her alliances. She is cruel, and spiteful, and jealous.” His head came up. “And powerful. We ignore her at our peril.”
My sash jingled as I clasped my arms around my middle. “To ask for her help is worse.”
“Perhaps.” He sat back down on the sawdust-laden couch, his knees spread wide and his back bowed over them. “But they haven’t imprisoned you for having done so, or the cautious acceptance you maintain of her. I’ve watched you enough to know it’s not because you’re no threat, and it’s not because you’re the only mature female demon. It’s because of something you are. I want that.”
“You can’t have it,” Bis said, his voice low in threat.
I stretched out a hand, touching him in reassurance. “I think he means he wants to learn what it is. It’s not anything you can take, Bis. It’s something you do.” My eyes went hard on Hodin. “Or don’t do.”
He stiffened, head coming up. “I can’t let them know I exist.”
Frowning, I exhaled my tension, letting myself forgive his stubborn refusal because I knew where it stemmed from. Bis grumbled as I came around the table and sat down on the couch beside Hodin, a careful three feet and an acre of silence between us. “So what do you propose we do?”
Hodin leaned back, gesturing with a ring-decked hand. “See? There it is,” he said, the tips of his black hair shifting about his eyes as he shook his head in disbelief. “You are foolishly risky. You don’t even know me.”
I smiled. It was exactly the same thing that Al had fixated on, causing him to risk and lose everything to save my life. And in return, I saved his. The “it” was that I didn’t see “demon.” I saw Al’s soul. It was jumbled, and broken, and fierce—desperately needing someone to believe in him to mend the cracks even as he did ugly, mean things. And as I sat beside Hodin’s depressed slump, I saw the same.
“You should come out,” I said, looking at his ringed hands clasped between his knees. “Tell them you exist. I’ll stand with you. For what it’s worth. They don’t listen to me much.”
Hodin’s fingers stilled, and on his perch, Bis made a high-pitched squeak. My soft smile vanished. Did I just walk into his trap?
“If you help me save Al,” I added, and Hodin jerked.
“Never,” he said, then stood up.
I pressed back into the couch to look up at him. “Seriously? I hand you a get-out-of-jail card, and you throw it back in my face? What is it with you? God! It’s like you’re brothers or something.”
Hodin’s lip twitched, his expression stilted as he took his basket of spelling supplies in hand. And then my mouth dropped open in understanding.
“Oh. My. God!” I stood up fast. “No way. No friggin’ way!” I exclaimed, and Hodin flushed a dark red. “You have to let me tell him you’re alive.”
Hodin took a breath, but his wrathful expression hesitated at a soft scuff at the front of the church. Head cocked, he turned to the door, now open to spill sunlight over the dusty floor.
It was Zack, a plate of food from the steps in his grip, and I stared as the young elf froze, lips parted as he took in my spelling-robe finery. He clearly hadn’t expected to find anyone here, and I felt a flush of anger. It might be full of holes and sawdust, but it was still my church.