Tayla waited in the alley between a Chinese restaurant and a liquor store. Scott had splattered blood in the alley, blood Jagger had collected from a Daeva demon he’d tortured a week ago. Now she sat against the wall, hand pressed to the oozing wound in her side, stomach churning from a combination of pain and the mingled scents of demon blood and cheap takeout.
She’d called the hospital from a pay phone, and the strange thing was, no one had actually answered. She’d heard a click, a growl, and then the line went dead. Really, she had no idea if the call had gone through. If she hadn’t been in so much pain, she’d have gone home, screw the assignment. As it was, she could barely walk, so until she regained some strength, she had to sit still and hope the stench of Daeva dim-sum didn’t make her puke.
Her patience paid off when, fifteen minutes after the call, Eidolon’s brother, Shade, and a female Umber demon he called Skulk arrived. She couldn’t decide if she should be happy that Eidolon’s brother had been dispatched or not. Clearly, he was no fan of hers, but then again, at least he was familiar. Better the enemy you know, and all that crap.
No one spoke as Shade carried her, not so gently, to the waiting black ambulance that passersby didn’t seem to notice. She remembered how Eidolon hadn’t worried about his BMW . . . maybe whatever spell encompassed his car also protected the ambulance. The demons would be safe; humans didn’t see demons unless demons wanted them to see or the human was either trained or gifted.
Like Tayla, who had been able to see the fiends since the day her mother died.
“I’ll ride with her,” Shade said to the Umber, as he laid Tayla on the stretcher.
Skulk glared at Tayla from the rear ambulance doors, but she slammed them shut, leaving Tay alone with Shade. The same soft, reddish-gray light she’d noticed in the hospital illuminated the interior of the ambulance, and the same inscriptions were scrawled on the walls and ceilings. Aside from those things, she could have been inside any human emergency vehicle. Any human emergency vehicle staffed by demon paramedics.
When Shade lifted her shirt with gloved hands, she resisted the urge to slap them away. She also resisted the urge to compare him to Eidolon, something that would be easy to do, given the identical tattoo running the length of his arm, the muscular, powerful body, the sculpted features of his face, the lusciously long eyelashes . . .
“Didn’t Eidolon tell you to take it easy?” he growled, and she rolled her eyes.
“Whatever.”
“Stubborn human.” He wrapped his hand around her wrist, pressed two fingers to her pulse. “So. You’re fucking my brother, huh?”
“Not one to beat around the bush, are you?”
“Not so much.”
A strange warmth washed over her, and when her heart should have been pounding with nervous energy, it slowed, along with her breathing. Relaxation turned her into a puddle. Pleasure tingled through her, as if the blood in her veins had turned to carbonated cream. She hadn’t felt like this since she’d been a teen smoking joints with her delinquent friends.
“What are you doing to me?” she asked, hoping the slur in her voice didn’t sound as pronounced to him as it did to her.
“I’m slowing your bodily functions and triggering a rush of endorphins. Helps ease the pain.” He hooked his stethoscope’s earbuds in his ears and pressed the bell to her chest. “It also gives you a false sense of well-being that’ll make it easier for me to manipulate you.”
“Cool. Can Hellboy do that?”
“Eidolon has a different gift.”
“I’ll say,” she sighed.
He made her feel good in other ways. Ways that sent a wave of heat rolling through her lower body just thinking about them. Were all the brothers so alike, and yet so different? She eyed Shade as he inserted an IV line into her left hand, his skilled efforts efficient but relaxed, as if he could do it in his sleep.
Eidolon came across as focused, tense, and in control. Shade, on the other hand, seemed more laid-back, but she wasn’t sure it was in a good way. More of an I can kill you and not care less sort of way.
Tiny pinpricks of pain spread through her right arm, one of the familiar sensations that preceded a loss of function. She winced, and Shade smoothed a palm over her belly, but she shook her head. “Not the wound. It’s my arm. Right one.”
Frowning, he reached across her body to her shoulder, which had gone numb. “Make a fist.”
She tried. “I can’t.”
“Has this happened before?” When she hesitated, he tipped her chin toward him with his other hand. “Slayer? Answer me.”
The command in his voice made her bristle. She did not follow orders given by demons. “I already discussed this with Hellboy. Ask him.”
She caught a whiff of something tangy. Whenever some part of her body gave out, her sense of smell grew more acute—a strange response, and one that lent credence to what Eidolon had said about her demon parentage.
Even though she refused to admit it out loud.