Demon Angel

red bindi she'd painted between her brows wrinkled. "You wasted your time serving here. If you had spent more time on study, you could have been a fine surgeon, married a physician."
    The bell atop the door jingled. "Dr. C!"
    Hugh lifted a brow. " Doctor C , Auntie," he emphasized, and grinned when she pursed her lips again in disapproval. Then he turned to greet the three who'd come in. All former students, they had been coming regularly on Fridays for almost two years. They'd heard about Ian—probably through Savi—and there was a lot of head shaking and disbelief before Auntie urged them to get something to eat.
    Hugh and Auntie watched them as they walked toward the buffet. "It's a terrible business, what happened to that boy," she said. Then she looked him sharply up and down. "Come into the back."
    Knowing he was in for the feeding of his life, Hugh followed her. According to Auntie, all things were made better with food. A lot of food.
    The restaurant was small, and, as it was known better for its lunches and takeout, not very busy in the main dining area in the evening. The tables near the back, where the gaming group usually congregated, had already been pushed together in preparation. He had always loved the atmosphere, the bright silks on the walls, the worn but comfortable benches lining the walls, the cane chairs, the air redolent with spice. He nodded toward a silk painting of Kali on the far wall, the material a soft cream, allowing the blues and reds of the goddess's skin and tongue to stand out.
    "Did Ranjit bring that back from his last trip?"
    "He's a good boy, thinking of me." She slanted Hugh a look from under her lashes before pushing open the swinging door to the kitchen, and he laughed as he followed her through.
    Heat and humidity hit him instantly, throwing him back to the years he used to wait tables, running back and forth between the kitchen and dining room. Keeping occupied, earning his way through college—cleaving to the grandmother and granddaughter. And it had been in these kitchens that he'd slowly, slowly healed.
    But not completely.
    A small office, not much larger than a closet, sat to the left of the kitchen entrance. Savi sat at the desk, entering in the day's receipts into the computer. He paused, and she looked up.
    "Are you well?" he said.
    She shrugged, dragged her fingers through her short hair. "Okay, I guess. Considering." Her gaze sharpened. "I brought the swords, as you requested in that e-mail."
    She waved her hand toward a duffle bag on the floor. The canvas bag hadn't been long enough; the hilt of the katana protruded from between the zipper teeth. "Thank you. Brandon, Matt, and Zack are here."
    "I'll go out to see them in a minute." She looked at him, unsmiling. "And this is the second time in a week you've asked me for an address—and the second time I had to break a few laws to get it. Are you going to tell me what's going on? You're in real trouble, aren't you?"
    "Yes." He could give her the partial truth, at least. "And I will tell you, but I'm about to be stuffed."
    The humor in her eyes eased the heaviness that had sat with him since receiving Lilith's reply. "She got me when I came in, too. I don't think I'll need to eat for two weeks." She tilted her head. "So, who's this Lily Milton, and why do you need her info?"
    He felt the flush rise up his neck, and she stared at him, fascinated.
    "You have a thing for her." She pursed her lips, and for a moment she looked exactly like her grandmother. "That's kind of weird. I know you don't date often—actually, never—but this isn't the way to woo a lady."
    He leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb, laughing so hard that Auntie peered around the corner of the wall to look at him. Wiping his eyes, he gestured toward the swords and said, "Trust me, this is exactly the way to woo her." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Savi, her real name is Lilith."
    Her mouth fell open. "You're joking." Her eyes narrowed when he shook his head. "It explains a lot, though. What was it, in high school? She got to you so bad that you turned her into a demon in your book?"
    "Not exactly," he choked.
    "Well, in any case, you might be interested in what else I found out about her." With a mischievous grin, she added, "I poked around."
    "Good," Hugh said, his own humor fleeing. "I need every advantage I can get." The headache that had been threatening since late afternoon began to throb in earnest. He rubbed his forehead, fighting