White Hot Kiss

I lit them up, every single one I came across, knowing full well the Wardens would find them later that night. Sometimes, but not often, I wondered if it was unfair that the demons had no clue that after I “accidentally” knocked into them, they had a bull’s-eye on them. But it didn’t stop me.

Demons were evil, no matter how normal they might look.

I just didn’t know what category I fell into.

Tagging three more Fiends by five, I decided it was time to call it a night and found a pay phone. Morris answered with his normal silence, and I asked him to pick me up. He hit the keypad twice, signaling a yes. My totals for the evening weren’t astronomical, but I felt good about them, and as I waited at my usual bench, relief eased the muscles in my neck. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The tagging had been run-of-the-mill.

Since no one tried to play grabby with my head, it proved that Roth was full of it. Now I just needed to figure out what to do about the punk demon. From the moment I’d first begun tagging, I’d been ordered never to interact with Upper Level demons and required to report any possible sighting. Roth was the first one I’d ever seen.

But if I told Abbot about Roth, he would pull me out of school.

I couldn’t have that. School was my only real link to normalcy. High school was Hell on Earth for most, but I loved it. I could pretend to be normal there. And I refused to let a demon—or even Abbot himself—take that from me.

As I waited for Morris, I wished my cell phone wasn’t floating somewhere in the sewers. Damn Roth. Without my cell, I couldn’t even play solitaire. Instead all I could do was people watch, and I’d been doing that since I left school.

Sighing, I sat on my bench and kicked my feet out. I ignored the looks I was getting from an old lady sitting on the other side.

The first tingle that danced along the nape of my neck didn’t really raise any warnings, but as the sensation increased, so did the feeling of restlessness. Twisting around, I scanned the crowd of people hurrying down the sidewalk. A pretty parade of souls hummed along, but in the mix, standing back under the alcove of a thrift store, was a void where no color shone through.

I sat up straight and turned around so quickly that the old lady gasped. I caught a glimpse of a dark suit, pale skin and hair that seemed to stand straight up. It was definitely a demon, but not Roth. The height and width of the man was larger, but there was a flash of golden eyes.

An Upper Level demon.

My heart rate tripled and then a horn blew, causing me to jump. I looked away for only a second, long enough to see that Morris had arrived, but by the time I turned back to where the demon had been standing, he was gone.

* * *

I actually waited for Morris to park the car before I jumped out this time. As we entered the kitchen through the garage, I heard childish giggles and shrieks.

Curious, I turned back to Morris. “Did we turn into a day-care center since this morning?”

Morris slunk past me, smiling.

“Wait. Is Jasmine here with the twins?”

He nodded, which was the best answer I’d get from him.

A big smile pulled at my lips. I forgot about the mess that had been today. Jasmine lived in New York with her mate, and since she’d had the twins, they’d rarely traveled. Female gargoyles were a rarity. Most of them died giving birth, like Zayne’s mother had. And the demons loved to pick them off. Because of that, the females were heavily guarded and well cared for.

Kind of like living in a bejeweled prison, even if they didn’t see it that way.

On the flip side, I did understand the males’ perspective. Without the females, our race couldn’t survive. And without the gargoyles acting as Wardens and keeping the demons in check, what would happen? Demons would take over, plain and simple. Or the Alphas would destroy everything. Happy times.

Thankfully I wasn’t under any kind of protection order. That was why I was able to attend public school when none of the other gargoyles could. Being only half-Warden meant I wasn’t mating material. My purpose in life wasn’t to continue the race. And even if I could mate with a Warden—without taking their soul accidentally—the demonic blood I carried would be passed down, just like the Warden DNA.

And no one wanted that hot mess in their bloodline.

I was more than happy to be able to come and go as I pleased and to help the cause in any way I could, but it was...well, it was hard. I would never truly be a part of the Wardens. And no matter how badly I wanted it, I’d never really be their family.

Something else Roth had been spot-on about.

My chest squeezed as I set my bag on the kitchen table and followed the sound of laughter to the living room. I stepped into the room just as a pint-sized blur of white and gray zoomed past my face. Jumping back, I felt my mouth drop open as a young, dark-haired woman rushed past me, her luminescent spirit trailing behind her.

“Isabelle!” Jasmine yelled. “Get down from there right now!”

The little thing’s soul faded enough for me to see her actual body. Isabelle had ahold of the ceiling fan. One wing flapped while the other drooped to the side as the fan spun her around. Her curly red hair seemed out of place on her chubby gray face. So did the fangs and horns.

“Uh...”

Jasmine stopped and faced me, out of breath. “Oh, Layla. How are you doing?”

I flipped off the switch to the ceiling fan. “Good. You?”

Isabelle giggled as the fan slowed, still flapping that one wing. Jasmine stepped beneath her. “Oh, you know. The twins are two and just learning how to shift. It’s been a real joy.” She grabbed one of Isabelle’s stumpy legs. “Let go—Izzy, let go this instant!”

Yeah, two-year-olds could shift and I couldn’t. Embarrassing. “Did you guys get in yesterday?” I asked, thinking of the gargoyles on the roof.

She wrangled in Isabelle, sitting her down on the floor. “No. We just got here. Dez had to go out of town, so he asked Abbot if we could stay here until the clan returns to New York.”

“Oh.” I peeked behind the couch, spotting the other twin. At first, he was just a little blob of pearly-colored goodness. Then I saw past his soul. He slept in his human form, curled atop a thick blanket. He had his thumb in his mouth. “At least this one is sleeping.”

Jasmine laughed softly. “Drake sleeps through anything. This one—” she picked up Isabelle and sat her on the couch “—doesn’t like to sleep. Isn’t that right, Izzy?”

Isabelle half jumped, half fell off the couch and rushed me. Before I could move, she went down on all fours and sank those sharp little teeth through my flats, biting my toe.

I shrieked, fighting the urge to punt the little freak across the room.

“Izzy!” cried Jasmine, rushing over to us. She grabbed her, but the damn thing had a firm hold on my toe. “Izzy! Do not bite! What have I told you?”

I winced as Jasmine manually removed her daughter’s fangs from my foot. The moment Jasmine put the giggling child down, Isabelle launched herself into the air, straight at me.

“Izzy! Don’t!” her mother yelled.

I caught her, taking a wing in the face. She was surprisingly heavy for a two-year-old. I held her at arm’s length. “It’s okay. She’s not bothering me.” Now.

“I know.” Jasmine floated to my side, wringing her slender hands. “It’s just that...”

As realization sank in, I wanted to crawl into a hole. Jasmine was worried that I’d suck her baby’s soul out. I’d thought Jasmine had grown to trust me after we first met, but when it came to her babies, that trust had jumped out the window. Part of me couldn’t blame her, but...

Sighing, I handed Isabelle over to Jasmine and took a step back. Feeling all kinds of wrong, I forced a smile. “So how long will you be staying here?”

Jasmine cradled the wriggling kid to her chest. Isabelle kept reaching out toward me. “A couple of weeks—a month, tops—and then we’ll head back home.”

Then it struck me. If Jasmine was here, then that meant her younger and totally available sister was here. And she’d be here for weeks. My stomach dropped.

Without saying another word, I wheeled from the room to go on a manhunt—or a female-gargoyle hunt. Whatever. Danika was different from any human girl Zayne might occasionally “date.” Way different.

The soft sound of husky laughter floated out of the library I usually occupied during all my copious spare time. An irrational territorial urge surfaced. As I crossed the sparsely decorated sitting room that no one ever used, my hands balled into fists. Jealousy was a bitter acid sweeping through my veins as I stopped before the closed doors. I had no right to barge in on them, but I was no longer in control of myself.