Demon Marked

computer. “And look at this. The asshole just landed in New York. No reservations or rentals yet, but if something pops, I’ll send it through to you.”
    That surprised her. “Me?”
    “You brought this to me. It’s yours unless you want to pass it on.”
    “I don’t,” Taylor said. She really didn’t.
    “All right. If you’re still with Revoire when the info comes, take him with you. Otherwise, I’ll send someone to meet you in New York.”
    Suddenly rocking back in her chair, Lilith fixed a stare on Taylor’s face, looking deep, and nothing like Rosalia’s warm perusal. Lilith’s gaze flayed—not skin and flesh, but the shields Taylor wore.
    God damn her. Lilith didn’t have psychic powers anymore, but she didn’t need them. Two thousand years had told her how to read a woman’s face, to pick out every uncertainty and fear—and right now, Taylor carried too many of them.
    But the former demon only said, “Do you want Sir Pup to come with you?”
    Lilith’s hellhound. The mere sight of the three-headed beast could terrify a demon and there was little on Earth that could hurt it. If Michael’s absence from her mind meant that he couldn’t protect her, Sir Pup was more than an adequate replacement for the job.
    Except the hellhound terrified Taylor, too.
    “I’ll have Revoire with me,” she said.
    Lilith’s gaze sharpened. “And Michael?”
    Of course she’d zero in on what Taylor hadn’t said. Sooner or later, demons always found a weak spot.
    “If we find this guy’s ghost, I guess we’ll find out,” Taylor said.

CHAPTER 5

    A steady vibration in Nicholas’s pocket woke him. A text message. Not the kind of buzz a man hoped to wake up to, but it’d been a while since anything more exciting had been in his pants.
    Vaguely aware of the wipers swooping across the windshield and the faint, static-filled country-western music coming from the speakers, he dug out his mobile and angled the screen away from the demon in the driver’s seat. Nicholas kept several private investigators in his employ; his London PI, Reginald Cooper, had begun verifying the demon’s story that morning. Nicholas had been expecting the investigator’s initial report, but unless the man confirmed that the demon had been lying or Cooper ran into something unexpected while digging around, the report should have come via e-mail.
    A text meant that Cooper must have unearthed a lie. Goddammit. Had the demon already broken the bargain? If so, that made her useless to him, and relieved Nicholas of his part in their agreement. He ought to just slay her now.
    But he couldn’t kill her while she drove on the highway, not without risking a wreck. And God knew how he’d explain a demon’s decapitated body to the authorities. He’d have to wait until he could paralyze her with hellhound venom, and either leave her behind—alive—or make certain her body was never found. His plan already forming, Nicholas skimmed Cooper’s message, picking up the words that anyone who’d ever met a demon might have expected: suicide, unusual circumstances, no warning, Cawthorne—Wait. What the hell?
    Thoughts of slaying the demon vanished. Nicholas reread the message and let the meaning sink in. This wasn’t what he’d expected. Cooper hadn’t uncovered a demon’s lie, but damn good news.
    Three weeks ago, Dr. Ian Cawthorne had hanged himself in his office.
    Bemused, Nicholas read the text again. So the crooked old bastard had finally done himself in. Nicholas couldn’t be sorry. Given the chance, he’d have tied Cawthorne’s noose himself. Twenty-five years ago, at Madelyn’s urging, Nicholas’s father had sought help from Cawthorne. After “treating” Nicholas’s father for symptoms of delusional paranoia—all the result of Madelyn’s shape-shifting tricks and lying tongue—the shrink had testified against his character, had taken away his pride, had ruined his business and his life.
    Had Cawthorne been treating this demon at Nightingale House? Nicholas wouldn’t ask her. He wouldn’t ask until he knew more—until he knew whether her answers were lies.
    Cooper hadn’t been able to confirm the demon’s story yet. Although his investigator had spoken to several nurses and administrators, they’d blocked him by citing patient confidentiality. Two nurses had recently quit their positions at Nightingale House, however, and the investigator planned to track them down.
    Good enough. With enough money greasing