Daemon’s Mark by Caitlin Kittredge (web ebook reader .TXT) 📕

back down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out the door, sitting myself on the crumbling back stoop of the crumbling old house.

I ripped open the bag of chips and consumed them, feeling rotten to my core as I did so. Masha Sandovsky hadn’t done a thing to me.

But Dmitri had. He’d lied, and not about something small and forgivable like the number of ex-girlfriends he had or if my ass looked fat in those pants. He’d lied about having a child, an entire life that was just a big blacked-out spot on the version of his past that he’d fed me.

And that I had swallowed, hook and line. I sighed and ground the heels of my hands against my eyes. When was I going to stop being a total idiot for the guy?

The back door creaked and Dmitri came out. I could tell it was him by his scent—that clove and him smell that I thought I’d hallucinated back in the hotel.

“I guess you’re pretty pissed at me, huh, darlin’?” he said, sitting down next to me.

“Don’t even go there with the darlin’ crap right now, okay?” I said.

“Okay,” he agreed. I let out a growl.

“Thank you.”

“You know,” he sighed. “Margarita and I have been over for a long time. It wasn’t even supposed to be all that serious to begin with. Masha, though … she’s my kid. I gotta take care of her.”

I finally looked at him. “Like you took care of her when you bolted to America and left her here in the ass-end of Eastern Europe with only her mom? Like that?”

Dmitri flinched, his newly hollow eyes wounded. “No. I screwed up there. Money doesn’t make up for me not being around, so now I have to make it right.” He reached out to put his hand on my shoulder, thought better of it, put his hand back at his side. “I never said I was perfect, but I am trying.”

I looked out into the alley, at the blowing garbage and the taillights of cars passing on the street. Night was starting to fall and the air was cold, kissing my exposed skin. “Where did Masha go missing from?” I said.

“School,” Dmitri said. He shrugged when I cocked my eyebrow. “What? Just because she’s born were doesn’t mean she has to miss school.”

“And the small chance of her phasing and tearing the other kid to shreds when she loses at tetherball doesn’t worry you?”

“Masha’s not like that,” he said. “She’s a good girl. She takes after her mother.”

I tried not to flinch at the implication that Margarita was the good woman and I was the … what? The necessary evil? “I need to call Will and let him know I’m all right,” I said. “And my department, and the FBI. Get them working on this case from the U.S. end. After that, I’ll see what I can do.”

Dmitri exhaled. “Thank you, Luna. You don’t know what this means.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” I said, standing up and brushing off my butt. “You want my help, then I help you my way. You don’t get to second-guess me or argue with me or do that pouty thing that you do when you don’t get your way. And the less I have to see of your baby mama, the happier I’ll be. Got it?”

He sighed. “Margarita isn’t the bad one here, Luna. That would be the bastards who kidnapped my daughter.”

I shook my head. “Just show me where I can call Will, please. And accept that I don’t want to talk about yours and Margarita’s endless love, all right?”

Dmitri sighed and leaned inside. “Kirov, get the car.” To me, he said, “We have to drive to the nightclub on the corner. They have a pay phone that can make international calls.”

When we were in the car, Kirov looked at me from the driver’s seat. “Who are we calling?”

“My fiancé.” I said it without thinking. Dmitri let out a small choked sound.

“Your what?”

“You heard me,” I said. The nightclub was still closed, neon just flickering to life in the twilight. Kirov brought us to the back door and I got out.

Dmitri followed me in. “Fiancé. Six months. You work fast, Luna.”

“Why don’t you phase and bite me?” I suggested. “And when you’re through, show me the phone.”

Dmitri set me up with the pay phone and a stack of money while he sat at the bar, glaring alternately at the taciturn bartender and at me. I turned my back on him. It wasn’t my fault he got pissy when I’d mentioned I’d moved on. He had a kid. Bright lady. I was still trying to wrap my head around that one.

I punched in the country code and Will’s cell number, praying that he’d pick up. Who knew what time it was in California?

“Hello?” he muttered. Early. Or late. “Who is this?”

“Will? It’s me.”

“Luna?” It was a yell, something that made me hold the greasy beer-scented receiver away from my ear. Totally out of character for Will, who had never raised his voice in my hearing except when the Celtics were on TV.

“Luna, where the fuck are you? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said, feeling a small smile bloom. “I’m just fine, Will.”

“What the hell happened?” he shouted. “You don’t come home, me and Agent Hart pay a visit to that sack of slime Nikolai Rostov, he has no answers, and you’re just gone!”

“Aw, honey,” I said. “You spent time with the Feebs for me?”

“Wasn’t easy, doll, believe me,” he said. “That guy wears this terrible aftershave. Could choke a horse.”

“Will,” I said, not able to hide the tremble in my voice. “I missed you. A lot.”

“Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you,” he said. “I don’t care what happened, I don’t care whose fault it is, I just want you home.”

“I’m in Kiev,” I said. “I’m all right.” I looked at Dmitri. He spread his hands, obviously wondering what was taking so long. He could go Hex