“If it hurts,” I said, “you aren’t doing it right.”
“Mistress—” At my glare he began again. “Liz. I know my place. I know my job.”
I’d had him sent to watch over Megan after a seer was murdered on my doorstep. Who knew when another Nephilim might show up looking for me. Who knew what they might decide to do if they couldn’t find me, but found Megan instead. I wasn’t going to take that chance—hence the arrival of Quinn.
That he appeared to have fallen in love with Megan was a bonus. He would die to keep her safe. If I couldn’t be here, the next best thing was Quinn Fitzpatrick.
“She still thinks you’re nothing more than the slightly lame day-shift bartender?” I asked. In an attempt to seem more human, Quinn dropped things a lot.
His shoulders slumped. “Yes.”
Megan hadn’t a clue who or what Quinn was, or that he loved her. With three kids and a thriving business, Megan was lucky she could figure out her own name most days.
“Have you caught any more Nephilim slithering around?” I asked.
Quinn’s head came up. “Half a dozen since the last time you were here, Mis—Liz.” He puffed out his chest. “They are ashes.”
The more Nephilim Quinn dusted, the more human he became. As it was, he had to spend a certain number of hours in every twenty-four as a panther—statue or flesh and blood, didn’t matter. But those hours dwindled every time he protected the innocent. Soon he’d be completely human. Or so he said.
“You could leave the child with Megan. Nothing would hurt her while I’m here.”
“I’m sure nothing would. And you’d get double points, right?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Protect a baby, big-time innocent, wouldn’t you get more tickets in the soon-to-be-human sweepstakes.”
Quinn stiffened. “I wouldn’t protect her for my own gain.”
“No?”
“No.” He seemed truly insulted. “She’s an infant. What kind of man would I be if I required payment in order to help her?”
“You aren’t a man yet.”
“And I wouldn’t deserve to be one if I were a man like that.”
I liked Quinn more and more every time I saw him.
“Thanks for the offer,” I said, “but I can’t leave her behind.”
I rattled off the same reasons I’d given Megan, and Quinn nodded. “The child could be of any mother. Even Sawyer’s own.”
Hadn’t thought of that. But wouldn’t Sawyer have—
What? Drowned Faith in a burlap sack? I didn’t think so.
Still, his mother had been the evilest of evil, the vilest of the vile. Witness that she could easily have given birth to her own son’s child.
At the least, Sawyer would have told me. Unless his mind shied away from the idea as completely as mine had, and really, why wouldn’t it?
“He wanted her protected,” I murmured. I didn’t think he’d have bothered if Faith were the daughter of psycho hell bitch.
But maybe I was wrong.
CHAPTER 6
“Dude. Who are you?”
Luther stood at the top of the steps. His eyes shone amber. His hair began to rustle in a nonexistent wind.
“Who are you?” Quinn returned, his gaze flaring more yellow than green. “Dude.”
“Down, boys,” I ordered. “We’re all friends here.” Luther tilted his head, listening to a voice only he could hear. Understanding washed over his face. “Gargoyle,” he said.
“Shh,” both Quinn and I hissed at the same time.
“Why?”
“Megan doesn’t know,” I whispered. “She’d kick my ass if she found out I’d planted a guard in her bar.”
The boy’s eyes faded to hazel. “Okay.”
“New sidekick?” Quinn asked.
“No,” Luther answered.
“Yes,” I said at the same time.
Then we both glared at each other.
“I’m your seer,” Luther insisted. “You’re my sidekick.”
“I’m the leader of the whole federation, kid. I’m no one’s sidekick.”
“You keep on believing that,” Luther murmured.
Quinn laughed; I fumed. I didn’t take orders well, but lately I didn’t have much choice. If Luther said come, I went. If Luther said kill, I killed. If Luther said jump off a cliff, I learned how to free-fall.
“What’s going on?” Megan trotted up the steps, her flip-flops smacking against the carpet with muted thuds. When she got to the landing, she frowned at the three of us. “Something wrong?”
“Just making introductions. Quinn and Luther hadn’t met.”
Megan had heard enough lies in her lifetime—she was a mom and a tavern owner—to spot one from the space shuttle. Though I’d learned to construct falsehoods so much more convincingly since becoming the leader of the light, I still couldn’t fool Megan Murphy.
“And then what happened?” she asked.
I widened my eyes. “They shook hands.” Megan lifted a brow. “Bumped chests, talked sports, Quinn brought out a Playboy, and they admired the centerfold. They were just going to get a beer then practice spitting. They’ve really bonded.”