Demon Marked

frequently visited the old man, but Madelyn never had. The summer she’d refused to go gave Nicholas his best, first clue of when his mother had disappeared. He and his father had gone without her that year. By the next, his father was dead, and Madelyn hadn’t wanted to hear one word about visiting America.
    Granddad wouldn’t want a little boy underfoot who reminded him of his son. Nicky, love, why won’t you stop being selfish and think of that poor old man, instead? Let him grieve in peace, instead of bothering him about taking you fishing and running all over those woods.
    So Madelyn knew about the cabin, but it’d take her a while to figure out where he’d gone. She wouldn’t expect this of him. For years, he’d been hunting her. Now, he’d sit back and wait—and prepare. Eventually, she’d come looking for Ash. He’d be ready for her.
    “There’s one in town,” he said. “The son of the man who was Granddad’s only friend. He uses the cabin in the summer and fall for his fishing and hunting—and in exchange, he makes any necessary repairs.”
    “So that’s why it’s not falling apart.”
    That, and because his grandfather hadn’t skimped on the original construction. He’d had everything but the logs airlifted in by private contractors, and he’d built the place himself. For a man who’d spent most of his life on Wall Street, he’d ended up being damn good with his hands.
    “The front door is unlocked if you want to go in,” Nicholas said. After she took a step and sank to her knee again, he added, “There should be a pair of snowshoes hanging on the wall.”
    “I’ll manage.”
    He followed her in, the bag of weapons slung over his shoulder. Cold, a bit musty, but not bad. The windows were shuttered, but provided enough light to see by when he opened them. No sofa, no comfortable seating—just the small handmade table with two chairs, and one cane-back rocking chair by the window. Rustic and simple. Nicholas had forgotten how much he liked it.
    He hadn’t visited since the old man had died. Then, he’d come with the intention of selling it, but he’d made arrangements for its upkeep, instead. Before today, the place had never been useful to him, but he hadn’t been sorry for holding on to it—and he didn’t need Leslie to explain why. This cabin was a part of his childhood, one of the few parts Madelyn had never tainted.
    Would he hold on to it after she came? He didn’t know. Finally having his revenge would be sweet, but this place, this land, wouldn’t be the same afterward. He knew he’d never come here again.
    But if he did have to give it up afterward, it was a price he’d be willing to pay.
    A wood-burning stove provided heat for the rooms. It had been a while since Nicholas had started one, but it came back quickly enough.
    No, not quickly enough. With the dry kindling crackling, he turned to find that the sled had already been unloaded, the boxes and bags stacked on the floor and the table. No need to ask when she’d done it—with a demon’s speed and strength, she’d have had the task completed within seconds.
    But he didn’t like that she’d done all the work. “I’ll unload it next time.”
    And there’d have to be a next time within a few weeks. He didn’t mind roughing it, but he didn’t have time to trap or hunt, and he preferred not to test the longevity of the supplies in the fallout shelter.
    “You still have to put them away,” Ash said. Her gaze fell on the stove behind him. “And I’m not cooking for you. Especially on that thing.”
    Nicholas wasn’t looking forward to whatever he managed to produce on that stove, either. But as long as he could chew it, he didn’t care. “I’ll cook my own,” he agreed. “I can’t trust that you wouldn’t pile on the butter, anyway. You’d make it a slow death, demon.”
    She smiled, an expression that came more often now. “Are you speaking from experience? Did Madelyn?”
    Oh, hell. Nicholas hadn’t been thinking of that at all, but after his father died, there were always “comforting” foods in the house. Always. And Madelyn had encouraged him to comfort himself as often as possible.
    “She did. And I became big-boned very quickly.” Big-boned was her way of putting it, too.
    Ash frowned. “You really think she was trying to kill you?”
    “No. I think it was more about the short-term fun of seeing how other boys treated the fat kid.”
    “Oh.” Her gaze slipped over his