Grace and Glory (The Harbinger #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,34

of information like it was nothing, knocking windswept hair back from his face. “And yes, before you ask, that’s where the vampire mythos came from. Needing to be allowed in to enter. And no, vampires aren’t real. Demons are.”

I hadn’t been planning to ask about the whole vampire thing, and I also didn’t remember either Zayne or me inviting him in here at any point. I also superdoubted Zayne would be pleased to learn this, but at the moment, it didn’t matter. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”

“Have you? Well, you see, I’ve been busy running around the entire damn city, getting all the Fiends out while trying to stay alive,” he told me, and come to mention it, he did look a little frazzled. He was normally quite polished, but the black shirt featuring the band BTS was wrinkled and torn at the collar, and I had no idea if the hole in the knee of his jeans was a fashion statement or not.

“That’s why I didn’t sense any demons tonight. Why?” I asked, wondering what else could possibly be going wrong. “What’s happening?”

“What’s happening?” His dark brows climbed up his forehead. “Are you serious right now? As if you don’t know?” He stepped closer, and I caught the scent of...burned wood? And his eyes, normally a golden hue, were now like heated coal. “What did you do, Trinity?”

I frowned. “Uh, yeah, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t do anything, and yet, here you are, in my personal space. Do I need to remind you that you’re afraid of me?”

“Yeah, you were one of the baddest creatures walking these streets and I was afraid of you, but that was until I met a certain freaking fallen angel rocking a Heaven ton worth of grace who apparently has amnesia and a sudden, extreme dislike of all demons.”

“Oh,” I whispered, tensing. “You’re talking about Zayne.”

“Oh? Oh? That’s all you have to say? Yes! I’m talking about Zayne, who just happens to be a very, very powerful fallen freaking angel, in case you didn’t hear me the first time around.”

“I did hear you. That’s why I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. I had no idea he was going to go after you or any demon, but I tried to give you a heads-up. You didn’t answer.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t like to talk on phones.”

“I texted you!” I shot back. “And I quote, ‘I need to talk to you. It’s important.’”

“And as I said, I was kind of busy trying to stay alive.”

I crossed my arms. “And how was I supposed to know that?”

“Did it occur to you to leave a message that said, ‘Hey, my favorite demon broker, Zayne is back. He’s a Fallen, so you better run for the freaking hills’?”

“I didn’t think that was something I should text or leave as a voice mail considering no one has believed me when I first told them that,” I reasoned. “And I had no idea he would go after any demon.”

“Of course he’ll go after demons!” he said like it was something I should’ve already known. “He’s obviously a recent Fallen. They go after any and everything that has an ounce of power in them, and they especially hate demons. It takes decades for them to get over the whole ‘I’m still better than you lowly demons’ attitude, which, hello, where do you think the Wardens got that from? Which is why not many of them joined Team Hell.”

“Wait.” I stared up at the demon. “You knew what the Wardens originally were?”

“Duh, Trinity. Duh.” He turned and walked into the kitchen. As he went, the lights turned on. “Running for your life works up an appetite, so I’m starving.”

“How in the world did both you and Roth know this and manage to keep your mouths relatively shut?” I trailed after him. “How have demons not been shouting this from the rooftops?”

“Not every demon knows this.” Cayman lifted his hand, and a box of Cheez-It Snack Mix flew across the room to his hand.

Man, I so wanted that talent.

“Only the oldest and the most connected with the Boss are aware of the true origins of the Warden. Shouting it from the rooftops would defeat that pesky blind faith thing, wouldn’t it? That would tick off the One up there and the one down below. No one has time for that.” He peeled open the box as he plopped down onto the couch. “And whatever