Touched by Fire (Demons of New Chicago #1) - Kel Carpenter Page 0,20

dead body on your own doorstep. Great way to lure all bloodsuckers out, and that’s the last thing you need right now.”

I gave her an appraising look. She wasn’t stupid.

“It was a warning.”

“The person at the door, or you shooting them?”

“Both,” I answered. “Still want to work with me?”

She blinked. Then a rasped chuckle slid between her lips.

“Yes.”

“The man at the door—” I nodded my head in the direction of it. “I worked with him for years. He’s as close to a friend as I’ve had, and I just put a bullet in him. Are you sure?”

“I stand by what I said before. I’m a dead woman by myself. I could help you, though.”

Her face was an open book. Easy to read. It was an odd thing for a witch. They were almost as cold as the fae.

“I don’t like witches,” I told her.

“Neither do I,” she responded immediately.

“I don’t like magic. I don’t like supernaturals. I’m used to working alone because I don’t play nice with others. I’m an asshole—and I’m telling you all this because if you give me any reason at all to think you betrayed me—putting a bullet in you will be the least that I will do.”

“What made you change your mind?” she asked, instead of answering.

“I have three days. I’m good. Really good. But I can’t find and kill the remaining members of the Antares Coven in three days on my own. Let alone a demon.”

I let the words sink in. She lifted both eyebrows and let out a slow exhale.

“They expect you to kill the demon?”

I nodded. “Does that scare you?”

“Yes,” she answered instantly. “But it doesn’t change my answer. I’ve been a Le Fay for twenty-two years. I’ve seen a lot in that time. Not once have I seen someone take on a full coven like you did. Killing a demon might be impossible, but I’m willing to gamble my life on it if you’re who I’m working with.”

I strode around the chair and came up behind her. Pulling the knife from the table beside me. I moved slowly, letting her see and contemplate her response.

When I pressed the blade to her neck, she swallowed hard, but she didn’t try to curse me.

I dropped the blade to her wrists and cut the bindings restraining her.

Air hissed between her teeth as she slowly moved her hands around in front of her and began rubbing at them.

“One chance. That’s all you get with me.” I stepped around to the front of her chair and knelt down, cutting the rope holding each of her legs to the wooden pegs.

“I won’t waste it,” she vowed. Raising her bloodshot eyes to meet my own.

“We’ll see.” I shrugged, stepping back.

Whoever this witch was, her life meant little to me. It was only because of my own shit situation and her intriguing honesty that I was even entertaining this.

“What happens at the end of the three days if we fail?” she asked.

My expression didn’t chance as I said, “Every bounty hunter in the city will be after me, and if you’ve lived that long—you too.”

She swallowed hard and nodded. “I guess we should get to work, then.”

A smile threatened to break through because part of me was starting to like her. Despite her heritage. Despite our differences. If we were both human, we would have made good friends.

But neither of us were.

“There are towels in the bathroom. Get yourself cleaned up. I’ll find you clean clothes and medicine.”

I was already moving toward my bedroom once more when the witch said, “I’m Nathalie, but my friends call me Nat. What’s your name?”

I didn’t pause in my stride. My hand reached for the bedroom doorknob and twisted it open. “Piper,” I said. “Piper Fallon.”

9

Twenty minutes later, she stood in my living room, dripping water from her shoulder-length brown hair. A ratty yellow towel was tucked under both her arms, and while her eyes looked clearer, her nose was still red.

I held out a stack of clothes. “You’re shorter than me, but these should be a close fit.”

She took them, muttering her thanks, and returned to the bathroom. What I didn’t tell her was that the clothes weren’t mine. I’d gone into the second bedroom of my apartment while she was showering and rummaged through the drawers until I’d found something that looked both warm enough and the right size.

Several minutes later she stepped back out. A long olive-green shirt hugged tightly to the curve of her breasts but fit loose in