"How old are you?" I asked.
Luther glanced away. "Eighteen."
Sawyer snorted, and the kid's cheeks darkened. "I am!"
He wasn't. But we didn't need to go there right now.
"Who are you?" Luther glared at Sawyer. Was he just being a kid, problems with authority and all that, or was his inner lion sensing Sawyer's inner . . . menagerie?
"Sawyer."
"Sawyer what? Or is it what Sawyer?"
"Just Sawyer."
"Like Beyonce?" Luther sneered.
Sawyer glanced at me. "Nephilim?"
I shook my head. "Singer."
His forehead creased. "Siren?"
"Is this guy for real?" Luther asked. "Been caught in a time warp, man?"
"In a way," I murmured, but the kid wasn't listening. He had other, better questions.
"Who sent you?"
I'd like to hear the answer to that myself.
"Who do you think sent us?" Sawyer murmured.
Oh, brother. Question with a question. That oughta get the kid talking.
"Is there someone chasing you?" Sawyer continued. "Do you have something to hide?"
Luther's eyes, which appeared more hazel now than amber, flickered. "This is my place. You can both just get the hell off."
"Is it your place? If I ask around, what will I find?" Sawyer moved closer to Luther. And Luther moved closer to me.
"Sawyer," I murmured. "I don't think he wants you to be so close."
"I don't care what he wants," Sawyer began.
The kid grabbed my knife. From the way he'd been retreating toward me, as if he needed my protection, as if he were backing down, I hadn't expected the move, and I stood there gaping like an idiot.
The kid was quick as a cat—wonder why?—and would have buried my knife in Sawyer's stomach. Except Sawyer was quick as ... a lot of things.
He snatched Luther's wrist before the boy could even start a downward arc and squeezed. The knife dropped to the ground; the pointy end stuck in the dirt the way Luther had wanted it to stick into Sawyer.
"You're somethin'." Luther's voice lowered; the lion purred just below the surface. "Somethin' different."
I tensed. How did he know that? Sure, Sawyer didn't look like a regular person, but he didn't look like an unperson either. I suddenly understood why Sawyer had brought us here.
"Seer?" I murmured.
Sawyer shook his head.
DK.
Which brought back the original question.
"Why do you think he's different?" I asked.
The two tussled, the kid trying to break loose, Saw-yer expending a minimum of effort not to let him. Lu-ther showed me his teeth and said nothing.
Sawyer twisted the boy's arm behind his back and said, "Answer her."
"Hey!" I protested. "No need to get rough."
"He could get out of this if he tried." The kid's head went up; his face reflected his confusion.
I was starting to get the feeling that Luther had no idea what he was. How frightening would that be?
"Why did you think that I was different?" Sawyer repeated.
"I can feel it, okay?" Luther's voice was strained. The more he tried to break free, the tighter Sawyer's grip be-came on his arm. "I've been feeling it my whole life."
"What, exactly, do you feel?"
Sawyer must have loosened his hold a little because when Luther spoke again, his voice had returned almost to normal. Oh, the fury still rumbled, but the pain was gone.
I walk by someone, and there's a hum, like bees or flies, but there ain't none. Sometimes they stare at me and then eyes . . ." He shuddered. "It's like there's a de-mon in there."
Silence fell over us all. Luther sighed. "I know I'm crazy." His shoulders slumped. "Just like they always told me."
Sawyer let him go. "They were always wrong."
Poor kid. I saw Ruthie's hand in this. I understood why I'd had to take this trip—to Detroit, to Indiana— and why I'd had to bring Sawyer.
"You're coming with us.'" Sawyer said.
"You think I'm stupid." The kid sneered.
Like the beast he was, Luther went for Sawyer's throat. Like the beast he was, Sawyer sensed the movement and jerked back. Luther's fingers tangled in the rawhide strip that held Sawyer's earth-filled talisman and broke it in two.
I had to close my eyes against a sudden bright light, and when I opened them again, Sawyer was a wolf.
CHAPTER 24
Luther stared at Sawyer; Sawyer stared at Luther, then Sawyer lifted his lip in a silent snarl.
"Dude," Luther said. "Cool."
Sawyer's lip lowered back over his sharp, pointy teeth.
"What is he?" Luther asked.
"Skinwalker."
"Werewolf?"
"Not exactly."
Quickly I explained that Sawyer was more than a werewolf much, much more than a witch.
"What are you?" he asked.
"Psychic." I kept the sex-empath, ghost-channeling, psychometric part to myself. "What we call a seer. I can see—hear—what they are."
"What are they? Demons?"
"Half demon, half human."
The kid got a faraway expression in his eyes. "They don't seem human."
He was right about that.