“Did you bring us chocolate, too?” Drio asked.
“No. Rabbi Abrams gave this to me because I’m his favorite. He also gave me this.” I lay the open book down on the table, tapping the demon’s name that Shokovsky had written at the top.
“A matryoshka,” Rohan read.
“Like the Russian dolls?” Drio humphed, studying the drawings. “We’re dealing with eight of them?”
“Seven,” Rohan corrected. “We killed one of the versions with an arm.”
“Seven out there for Candyman to make more Sweet Tooth with? That’s plenty,” Drio said.
“The matryoshka is a Unique. She just comes in parts. Leo wasn’t wrong,” I said pointedly, dropping into a chair.
“No, she wasn’t.” Rohan hooked an ankle around my chair and tugged me close. It was all the apology that I was going to get.
The journal entry confirmed that the matryoshka ate other demons with no apparent interest in humans. Its secretion worked as a paralytic on demons.
“We’re lucky it doesn’t work as a paralytic on us,” Drio said.
“It’s bad enough,” Ro replied.
“Speaking from experience.” Drio smirked.
“Don’t start,” Ro said. It was unclear whether he meant me or Drio. Drio’s smirk grew wider and I pressed my lips together, pointedly looking away.
We poured over the drawings, learning everything we could about the rest of the forms. A head, an arm, a leg–put the eight parts of the oshk together and she made a complete human figure.
The guys discussed how best to track it, as well as what protective gear we’d need to keep from getting splashed with its secretion. Ro agreed not to tempt fate by using his blades so he and Drio made a list of weapons we had on hand that would get the job done.
I told them that the heart was the sweet spot then tuned them out, needing to properly regroup after the shit show at Malik’s. Needing to release the breath that had been stuck in the base of my throat these past couple hours. I pressed up against Rohan. With every inhale, I filled up a little more with him. My skin heated, my tension eased, and my muscles became pliant. I shifted closer as if the hard warmth of his side could keep me upright when my spine so clearly couldn’t.
He didn’t look at me, didn’t speak to me, listening to Drio expand on an idea. His only movement was the idle play of his fingers on the neck of his beer bottle but his utter awareness of me emanated outward. So when the table got jostled and he reached past me for the box of tissue to blot the pooling liquid with a murmured “kitchen,” I had to shut my eyes to steel myself because the unease humming in my system had become low grade arousal and that one word skyrocketed me.
Rohan left the room carrying his beer and the soggy tissue.
Drio kept reading the journal. “Go after him.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I scampered into the kitchen.
Rohan caught me, pushing me up against the cabinets. “I hated letting you go to Malik’s by yourself.”
“But you did.” I slid my arms around his neck. I didn’t want to think beyond this moment, so I kissed him deeply, and whatever else he might have said died as his lips met mine. The kiss danced on the edge of violence, grinding against each other, working through all the anger, fear, and frustration we both had penned up.
Our darkness banished, our lips became a sweet tease. Rohan wrapped his arms around me and we held each other, our heartbeats slowing in tandem.
“Want to tell me what happened?”
I pulled away with a shaky sigh. “Yeah. But let’s get Drio. And food. Lots of food.” I hadn’t eaten since breakfast on the red eye flight home, and using my magic had long ago metabolized it.
Excellent boyfriend that he was, Rohan made sure I was stuffed with my favorite Szechuan food, even ordering the ginger beef extra crispy for me. He stayed at my side, a steady presence, while I caught Drio up on Orlando, and told them both about meeting Lilith.
Ro took the bit about Lila making my mouth vanish better than I expected. His vibrated fury only lasted a few seconds. He stuffed it down to focus on me, pulling me into his arms and rubbing my back in slow, steady strokes, as I recounted everything else that had transpired.
Almost everything. I couldn’t tell them about Lila reliving my memory or her offer. I tried three times, and on each occasion broke into a coughing fit. The third time my coughing was so violent that Drio actually got me some water instead of his expected response of letting my brains leak out of my ears. When I was able to speak again, I ended up saying I’d pissed her off with my questions and it was a no-go.
I yawned, my lids half-closed.
Ro tugged me up. “Let’s get you to bed.”
As soon as he climbed under the sheet with me, I gripped his hand, wrapped my leg over his, and stuffed my cheek against his chest. He was something real and solid to rest against; someone caring and fierce and mine. I finally felt secure enough to let sleep claim me.
I woke up in the middle of the night because I’d kicked the sheet off and I was cold. I reached for Rohan, but he wasn’t there. My hand hit something crinkly. I switched on the light to find a note Ro had left me on his pillow.
Gone to Palm Springs. Back in the morning. Don’t worry.
He’d snuck out in the middle of the night to fly to California. Why would I possibly worry? I tried to go back to sleep, but his absence left me raw and empty, like a demon had sliced me open, casually thrust in a claw, and yanked out my insides.
Dawn was a long time coming. Rohan’s reappearance even longer.
I’d been sitting on the front stairs for two hours, consumed six cups of coffee and two bagels, and worked myself into one righteous fury by the time Rohan rolled up.
A smoke-infused haze covered the sky, the sun a bright orange ball from forest fires burning hundreds of kilometers away. The air was heavy and stagnant with no hint of a breeze coming off the water through the trees.
He got out of the car, saw me, and flashed me his rock fuck grin. “You won’t believe what I found. Women’s clothing and a fairly recent photo of Ferdinand with some lady. I don’t know who she was to him but I’ll find out. It’s a great lead.”
“Don’t patronize me.” I spoke in a low voice, my eyes locked on his. “And don’t lie to me. Ever.”
“How did I lie?” He sat down next to me. “I checked out Ferdinand’s place.”
“Red-eye flights aren’t that red-eye. You didn’t charter a jet in the middle of the night. You kept it, didn’t you?” My hands tightened on my coffee mug, now cold and empty.
“I called them to arrange it when you went to deliver the painting.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He twisted his Rasha ring around. “I was going to, but I was waiting for you to come home, and then the oshk happened and…” He leaned back on his elbows against the stairs. “I didn’t want to worry you.”
“I wouldn’t have stopped you.”