Demon Marked

minutes and the chance to check his e-mail, then quietly covered their lunch bill when he was through.
    The demon had been telling the truth. At least, she’d been telling the truth about Nightingale House. The nurses had confirmed that a strange blond woman had lived at the hospital for almost three years—first under the name Mary , because she hadn’t talked at all, then using the name Ash when she’d begun coming round.
    Cooper reported that she’d creeped the nurses out, had been the reason they’d both left Nightingale House. Even though Nicholas didn’t get the same impression, that sounded right for a demon—ruining lives, jobs. What didn’t sound right was the patient’s complete lack of emotion and empathy, which both nurses spoke about at length. Demons faked that shit.
    Why hadn’t Ash?
    He finished his coffee, left money on the table. Outside, the sky had cleared. The bright sun glared over the snow. Ash watched him now, he saw. From within the shadows of her hood, her gaze had fixed on his. He wouldn’t look away first.
    She didn’t call out to him as he crossed the parking lot. Madelyn would have, smiling and cheerful—and loud enough to make certain she was heard. Nicky! There you are, love. I thought you’d become lost on the way to the loo! Anything to make a boy blush and squirm, especially if they’d had an audience. Alone, she’d still have been cheerful. So you’ve finally finished eating, have you? Oh, that’s all right, love. Mummy didn’t mind waiting. I don’t have anything more important to do, such as running your father’s business, do I? You obviously know that nothing can be as important as your little stomach, Nicky, because you certainly took your time, ha ha!
    God. That had just been the beginning of it, and she hadn’t always been so cheery. As it was, fifteen years had passed before he’d exorcised the sound of her laugh echoing in his mind—a far longer time than he’d actually lived with her. Emotionally and mentally, Nicholas supposed he was still well and truly fucked up. Exorcising her from the face of the Earth wouldn’t change that.
    He’d sure as hell feel better after she’d been slain, though. And if this demon—Ash—screwed up any opportunity to destroy Madelyn, he’d take her down, too.
    Though he let that determination shine through his emotional shields like a beacon, Ash didn’t look away from him. She didn’t even blink. Christ. Didn’t a demon’s eyes get dry?
    Apparently not. She held his gaze until he was practically on top of her, and when she did glance away, he didn’t think it had a thing to do with intimidation, with winning or losing. She simply decided to observe someone else.
    He didn’t look around to see who. And though he’d intended to drive the remainder of the distance to Duluth, he couldn’t tolerate the thought of her watching him all that way—maybe learning too much about him. Better that she focused on the road. Taking her hand, he pressed the keys into her palm.
    Her fingers twitched, her gaze snapping back to meet his. Startled? So was Nicholas. But she didn’t pull away, and he didn’t let go. He should have let go—and a demon’s touch should have been repulsive, but the warmth of her skin seemed to soak into his. He held on, letting the heat sink into him. Enjoying the feel of it.
    Until her eyes began to glow. Jesus. He dropped her hand, pulled away. The cold air must have left him more chilled than he’d realized if the heat of a demon’s skin felt that good. Time to invest in a pair of gloves.
    “Your eyes,” he warned her, and within a blink they were blue again. Shaking his head, he started around the vehicle to the passenger side. At this rate, she’d have the Guardians on them by nightfall. Or with Rachel’s face, a few humans.
    He waited until she was in her seat. “You need to shape-shift.”
    “All right. How?”
    Oh, for fuck’s sake. “No lying. Just answer me directly: Can you shape-shift?”
    “I don’t know if I can. But even if I can, I don’t know how .”
    Shit. They’d reach Duluth a little before midnight, and she might go unrecognized in the sleeping city. Not so the next morning, when they drove to the Boyles’s house. He could make the trip by himself, leave her at the hotel, but he didn’t trust her that far. Not alone, not where he couldn’t keep an eye on her.
    “Rachel lived in a small town,” he said. “You’d be recognized.”
    Her eyes seemed to