Demon Fire (Angel Fire #3) - Marie Johnston Page 0,17

to the door. The woman wanted to help and had more suggestions, but Sierra was draining Boone as it was. The department store should have cheap enough clothing. They might not have discounts because they were new—

Prickles rippled over Sierra’s back. She stiffened but didn’t turn around.

“Bea!” a man roared, his cranky tone obliterating the quiet solitude of the store.

Sierra twisted, like she was casually looking over her shoulder, but she kept her gaze sharp, focused. Unease cascaded over her. She tried to dismiss the feeling—that was for her old life—but it didn’t go away.

The man limped from the long hallway that led to the back office and the exit. The owner? A manager? His bushy brows drooped over his eyes and he heaved through the racks of clothing and gear, his wide shoulders knocking into them. If he’d been invisible, she still could’ve seen his route from all the rocking displays left in his wake.

“Jim.” Bea’s voice held warning but she smiled at Boone as she handed the bag over. “What’s going on?”

“I tripped again on the heaving asphalt back there. I thought I told you to get that fixed before it snowed.”

Bea’s gaze remained placid, her smile in place as she thanked Boone. “Perhaps we should talk about this after—”

Jim shook his head like a big shaggy dog coming in from the rain. “No, dammit. It was supposed to have been dealt with.”

Was it Jim’s attitude that was adding to Sierra’s discomfort?

Boone backed away, but he must’ve had the same sense of foreboding. Something was off, and it had started when Jim had arrived.

Bea heaped more pleasantness into her smile. “You’ll have to excuse my husband. It’s been a stressful week.”

The explanation wasn’t needed. Sierra let a small amount of sympathy show on her face. Boone dipped his head, his steady gaze traveling between Jim and Bea like he was assessing the threat to Bea.

Sierra was turning to stare back out the window when skittering shadows caught her eye. She frowned and twisted around again.

Nothing.

She turned again and there it was. Skittering shadows. Jerky movements she knew all too well.

No. It couldn’t be. She was supposed to have lost those abilities with her wings.

There was a tower display full of sunglasses to her right. She relaxed her gaze and pretended to look at the selections, spinning with the rack until she faced the register where Jim was berating Bea for the busted asphalt.

At his feet, sylphs danced.

A surge of excitement built in her chest. She could still see them. Not too long ago, she would’ve palmed a dagger and yanked their filthy little asses into the Mist to stab out their interfering existence.

One bold sylph rode on Jim’s shoulder. The broken asphalt probably wasn’t more than an inch-deep dip in the ground but the small underworld demons were tripping Jim and ruining his day. Over and over, weakening the human’s mental state, leaving him open for a symaster or, even worse, an archmaster to take advantage through a full possession.

Jim was being conditioned for possession.

The realization and her current situation mingled, making her slow to respond. One of the sylphs met her gaze and stilled, his eyes narrowing.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit. Humans weren’t able to see them.

She blinked and looked away, straining to keep her expression neutral, bored even. She tilted her head at Boone, who walked slow, unwilling to leave Bea to her needlessly irate husband. “Ready?”

Her whole being strained to glance back and see if she’d fooled the sylph, but she kept her gaze glued to Boone. Not a hardship, but it wasn’t like she could reassure him. It was only going to get worse for Bea and Jim, and Sierra couldn’t do a damn thing. Nor could she go to one of her kind. She’d risk their existence by talking to them.

Even if she did risk it, what would she ask Boone? Hey, can we go somewhere so I can borrow a computer and the internet and email one of my old teammates? I think someone’s still checking our email.

Boone shot one more dark look over his shoulder and opened the door for her. Sierra walked out behind him.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Surprise filled his eyes. “Why?”

“It’s frustrating when you can’t do anything.”

His jaw clenched. “I hate that he has to make the first move for anything I do to be justified.”

“I doubt he’s . . . himself.” He won’t be if the sylphs keep it up.

They loaded into the pickup. She kept her gaze on the