said. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing well.” I really hoped he didn’t have anything to do with the death of Barry Landrieu. Hopefully this case will be the nice, easy natural death it currently appears to be.
He glanced down at my left hand. “Not married yet?”
My lips twitched. “Nope.”
“Seeing anyone?” he asked, eyes on me.
Wow. How to answer that one? “Umm, sort of. Yeah.” Did regular sex with a demonic lord count?
“I’m going to be in town for a couple of weeks,” he said. “Maybe we could have lunch or coffee.”
“I’d like that,” I replied before I could think about whether or not I really would like it. “I, um, hate to chase you off, but I need to tie up the loose ends here and get started on the paperwork.”
“No problem,” he said. He pulled the door open and politely stood back to let me exit first. The cold was a knifing shock after the balmy comfort of the shack, and it took everything I had to force myself out into it and not suck my breath in dramatically or anything like that.
“I’ll be in touch,” Roman said, then surprised me by leaning down and giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before hurrying off to his car.
I watched as he started the BMW and drove off, then yelped at a hard smack on my arm. I turned to glare at Jill.
“Oh my god,” she said, grinning wickedly. “You are a total hunk magnet!”
I thwapped her arm back. “Don’t you start! I am not. Besides, you have a hunk of your own.” Jill was dating Zack. Special Agent Zack Garner—who I’d recently discovered was a lot more than just a special agent.
Jill suddenly reached out and gave my arm—the same one she’d just punched—a comforting squeeze. “Still nothing from Ryan?”
I couldn’t quite suppress the wince as I shook my head. “Nothing worthwhile. I get spam that’s friendlier.” Jill heard from Zack several times a day, while in the past month and a half I’d received a grand total of three emails from Ryan—all oddly terse and almost painfully neutral. It was enough to give a girl a complex. And I was neurotic enough already, thank you very much.
However, part of my wince was guilt-induced. Jill seemed to be getting more and more serious about Zack. And I didn’t have the faintest idea how to tell her—or even if I should tell her—that Zack wasn’t exactly the perfect man she thought he was.
And that he wasn’t a man at all, for that matter.
I was part of an interagency task force that supposedly dealt with financial crimes but actually handled situations that fell outside the definition of “ordinary.” I’d met the other two primary members of the team—FBI Special Agents Ryan Kristoff and Zack Garner—during the investigation of the Symbol man murders, during which I’d confided to Ryan that I was a summoner. Shockingly, he’d known what a summoner was, and I subsequently discovered that he also had a fair amount of sensitivity to the arcane, though not as much as I did.
Or so I thought. But shortly over a month ago our little group began work on a case involving death threats against a local singer, and during the final wrap-up of the case—which turned into an ugly battle against a horde of golems—I discovered that there was a shitload more to Zack and Ryan than met the eye. Turned out that Zack was a demon in human form. And Ryan? Well, the FBI agent who’d become one of my closest friends was very likely an exiled demonic lord, even though he had no memory or awareness of that fact.
The two agents had left for some sort of special training up in Quantico about a week after the battle with the golems. Meanwhile I was left to grapple with information I’d been told, stuff I’d seen, and things I’d deduced. Zack couldn’t come right out and confirm my suspicions about the two of them, but he had repeatedly stressed that Ryan’s safety could be jeopardized if he knew the truth. I still didn’t know if Zack was Ryan’s guard or his guardian, but I had an odd gut feeling that the training was a convenient excuse for Zack to get Ryan away for a while.
Jill’s face twisted into a sympathetic expression. “Men are dicks,” she announced, “and Ryan’s being an emo dick, which is the worst sort.”
I smiled despite my angst. “Ryan’s never really struck me as the emo type.”
She gave a snort. “Please. Zack says that he’s being Mr. Moody—moping around or taking out whatever frustrations he has on anyone silly enough to be willing to train with him.” Then her eyes softened—which wasn’t an expression I was used to seeing on Jill. “Look, it really messed him up when he thought you’d died.”
My stomach tightened again, and I had to work hard to keep a neutral expression on my face while I gave her a nod. The only reason I hadn’t died was because of Ryan. And what he’d somehow been able to do.