Dead Man Walking (The Fallen Men #6) - Giana Darling Page 0,24

you to get in trouble.”

“He was wearing pressed slacks,” I said with a sheepish shrug. “I thought he was one of the good ones.”

They both blinked at me before Tabby burst into laughter and Seth smiled, shaking his head in exasperation.

“You have strange taste in company sometimes,” Seth admitted fondly.

“This is true,” I admitted. “I’ve never really liked people my own age, and of course, when I tried it on for size, it backfired on me.”

In fact, Cleo was one of my best friends and the only one within a five-year age difference. I knew from my studies that it wasn’t unusual for children raised by older parents or guardians to experience difficulties with their own cohorts, and even though I’d been fourteen when Loulou married Zeus, it was that community that took me in hand more than my parents ever had. This deviation from the norm was something therapists tried to fix, citing it as a maladjustment to society.

Personally, I liked it just fine.

“I was referring more to the criminal gang your sister married into,” Seth corrected, but his voice held none of the scornful judgment I so often heard in reference to The Fallen at church. “I can’t say I understand the appeal, especially not for a nice girl like you.”

I fought my wince at being referred to for the millionth time as nice, the most lukewarm adjective to be known for, and therefore, in my mind, it was an insult. I affixed a plastic smile to my face. “They’re just a little rough around the edges, but so are diamonds before they’re polished.”

“Cute,” Tabby teased me lightly as she stroked my hair.

“Have they caught the criminal yet, the family of that boy?” Eric asked, stepping around Seth to give me his own hug.

I beamed at him.

Based solely on his appearance, Eric was the least pious-looking man in church. He wore his dark hair long and shaggy over his dark eyes, the gold bar through his left eyebrow glinting in the light. I’d yet to see him wear anything other than black, and he had a tattoo on the ridge at the base of his left thumb that said “Call Me Your Sky Daddy”. He was only a few years older than me and even though we’d known each other through the church for years, it wasn’t until he became TA in one of my criminal psych classes last year that we became close.

Seth and Tabby immediately took a little step away from him as if he reeked, and in a way, he did. He smelled of rebellion and fresh ideas, like a cold breeze sweeping through the warm, myrrh-scented church.

“Um…” I bit my lip as I hesitated, thinking of the body Priest had carried out of the Purgatory Motel. “I think it’s a work in process. Apparently, his parents split up and went into hiding.”

“Fuck.” Eric shivered dramatically, then shot Seth and Tabby a sly little look as he wrapped a hand around my waist and tugged me close to his side. “Maybe I’ll have to move in and protect you until they’re found.”

I rolled my eyes at his aplomb, but the Linleys were unimpressed.

“That would be incredibly inappropriate,” Tabby said primly. “If anything, Bea could come to stay with us.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eric lifted a brow. “And how would you protect her? Thump a Bible over the head of any intruder?”

“And you?” Seth questioned coolly. “Kill them dead with your stare?”

“Enough,” I said, laughing to defuse the tension. My three favourite people at First Light had never been able to get along, and I was used to the crackling tension. “I don’t need anyone to protect me.”

For once, they all seemed to agree on their derision of my words.

“Come on, Bea,” Eric said on a little laugh that stirred the long bangs over his forehead. “You probably weigh a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet.”

I tipped my chin up haughtily, but there was no denying the truth. I was slender, small boned, and delicately built without the kick-ass curves my mother and sister possessed.

“Honey, you really should have a man with you at home. Just in case,” Tabby fretted, smoothing my hair back like a woman with an anxious poodle.

“I can take care of myself just fine, thank you very much,” I said primly, but the words were sour with dishonesty.

The truth was, I occupied a strange space between being a damsel in distress and knowing enough about the evils of the world to realize my own