Demon Fire (Angel Fire #3) - Marie Johnston Page 0,32
his grown son was not only an angel, but a warrior, this baby would garner much interest. As a pawn, if nothing else.
She couldn’t have that. “I have to go.”
“Sierra.”
She fumbled for the doorknob and managed to turn it enough to open it—and stared into a pair of stern brown eyes.
“Boone.” Shit, shit, shit.
The sizable dose of suspicion in Boone’s eyes crowded out the concern and near panic that’d been there since the morning. “What’s going on here?”
How much had he heard?
Would he believe any of it?
Deep-seated fear rose. No. She wasn’t in Numen anymore. She couldn’t fall again if he found out about them. But his looming presence outside the door and the hard look he was shooting both her and the host pounded one point home. He was in danger because of her. His life was at risk because he’d helped her.
She had to rectify that and she only knew one way to solve it.
“I have to leave, Boone.”
Chapter 7
A hole inside of Sierra gaped open and empty like she’d lost everything.
Boone had let her go. She hadn’t explained. Boone had let her walk away with a person he’d never seen before. She’d left with only the clothes on her back, which was at least more than she’d started with in this world.
Sierra punched keys on the host’s old laptop. Alma. The demon hadn’t told her, but there was a pile of bills next to the computer. “It’d help if you gave me your name, demon.”
“Incognito.”
She rolled her eyes and logged on to the secure messaging platform she’d set up when she’d been with the team. Human technology benefited them well, and since they worked on Earth so much, it was convenient. Modern advances made it easier than ever to use.
If only Alma’s computer didn’t take a solid three minutes to load each page.
“Do I call you Cog for short?” She glared at the demon from the tiny desk set up by the kitchen table. The host’s house was small. A single kitchen, a small dining room, and a simple, square living room. A bedroom door was off the kitchen with the small bathroom. Alma’s house was one level and well lived in. Old photos of her and a man from throughout the years lined the hallways. Pictures of younger versions of them, when gravity hadn’t weighed so heavily on the woman, hung next to older pictures. Alma and the man must have been in their fifties then. The man must’ve died shortly after. The pictures stopped after one of what looked like a sixty-year-old Alma perched on the edge of a hospital bed. The man in the bed was a frail version of the man from the rest of the photos. A lack of any pictures afterward meant he hadn’t gotten out of that bed.
Grief tugged at Sierra’s heart. A long life together cut too short. Alma was waiting out her time in pain-filled isolation. For a brief few decades, Alma and the man had had each other. Depended on each other. Taken joy in each other.
So much history in a few photos. A life richer than any Sierra had lived. She’d hovered in the shadows her entire life, afraid of what she was and who’d find out. Then Boone had found her. And she’d left. Destined to do this alone in order to keep someone she’d come to care about from getting hurt.
Don’t care about anyone. Then they can’t be used against you.
The thought tempted her. She couldn’t deny that it’d be easier. Except those weeks in prison before her wings were taken had been the loneliest of her life. No communication. No visitors wishing they could change her circumstances. No one. She’d been on her own.
The online account finished downloading and she punched out a succinct message, naming the town, listing Alma and her address and her unnamed puppet master, and including for good measure Jim and the sporting goods store.
Her team had to forget about her, wanted nothing to do with her if her time in prison had been any indication, but they couldn’t ignore Alma’s possession and the threat to Jim’s life.
Sierra hit send and sat back, waiting for the message to complete its digital journey. “It won’t hurt to know your name.”
The demon lifted a bony shoulder. “It won’t hurt you. I can still play dumb if this thing goes tits up and you turn on me.”
“Why would I turn on you? I’m not working for demons.”