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

I glared at her. “You know what, I don’t need that attitude from any snotty teenage girl, especially one who’s already dead.”

Lily let out a high, musical giggle, then a patch of steam drifted across my vision and she vanished.

Will pounded on the door. “Luna? Luna, who are you talking to?”

“No one,” I sighed. “I’ll be out in a minute.” I got dressed in a pair of my own sweatpants and a jersey from Cedar Hill Community College, then ran a comb through my hair before tying it up. My hair dryer and all of my product was still at my apartment. Will and I hadn’t gotten to that stage yet.

He looked up from the dining room table when I came out of the bathroom. “What’s this? You jack someone for their laptop in the mother country?”

“It belongs to a guy named Grigorii Belikov,” I said. Will was trying to make nice, make light of our situation, and I wasn’t going to point out that he was doing a pretty piss-poor job. I was so starved for normalcy I would have watched him write a grocery list.

“Belikov? How Bond villain,” Will muttered.

“He was the ringleader of the operation in Kiev,” I said. “Sex slaves, blood sport, selling girls into bondage, all of the good stuff. He and his sister were in charge of the whole thing.”

“I can take this down to the Bureau in the morning,” Will mused. “Let our tech people have a crack at it. Send what we have to Interpol and hope that they push for prosecution in a country that views interrogation more as a sport than a process.” He left the laptop and went into the kitchen. “You hungry? You have to be.”

“I am,” I said. “But more tired. I’m going to take a nap.”

Will nodded. “I’ll be here. Just in the next room. I’m not leaving.”

I went over to him and wrapped my arms around him, feeling the tears start again. “Thank you,” I whispered, “for that.”

“Doll,” Will said against my hair, “for that, you never have to thank me.”

Tucking myself into Will’s king-sized bed, I finally let myself relax. I had been holding on to the thought that I hadn’t really escaped, that Grigorii or Rostov was going to burst in and wake me up, prove that I was still locked in some dank hole back in Kiev.

The thoughts faded as I drifted off to sleep, but the dreams did not. I’d have them for years, if not forever. You can try to forget, but your dreams never do.

Just something else I was going to have to live with.

———

When I woke up, it was because I sensed another body standing over me. I lashed out, found myself pinned by blankets and six-hundred-thread-count sheets, and came upright, panting.

“Easy,” Will said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Sweat had broken out all over me, and my ribs still poked when I breathed in deeply. Bones take a long time to heal, even for a were.

“No, I’m sorry,” I said. I was going to have to get a handle on this paranoia sooner rather than later. I was safe. I was home.

“I just needed a tie,” Will said. “I’m off to take the laptop to our techs.”

“I’m coming with you,” I said, throwing back the covers. I could see through the shades that it was morning.

“You let me sleep,” I said accusingly.

“Fourteen hours,” Will agreed, knotting a plum silk tie that set off his eyes. “Figured you needed it, doll, or you’d wake up.”

“Just give me a minute to find some real clothes,” I said, digging through my side of the closet. A pencil skirt, a blouse that didn’t match, and a Ramones T-shirt. Fantastic.

“Luna,” Will said gently. “You’ve just been through a huge trauma and you’re pretty banged up. Maybe you should stay in today?”

I inhaled, my reflexive snarl at being told what to do building. Will sighed. “And that sounded like patronizing crap, but I’m worried about you, doll. You’re still shaky on your feet.”

“Will,” I said. “I really don’t want to be alone. Can you just let me come to the office?” Admitting that the thought of his empty loft sent shivers through me felt like the worst kind of cowardice, but there it was. Last night, I couldn’t wait to get him out of the room and now I was clinging to him like some wide-eyed victim in a bad action movie.

Could I be more pathetic?

“Sure thing,” Will said. “I think there’s a pair of pants that are yours in the top drawer. Hard to be sure, what with all of my other lady friends…”

I felt a smile twitch in spite of my mood. “You’re a jackass.”

“Yeah, and that’s just one of my many endearing qualities.” Will slipped on his shoulder rig and suit jacket. I pulled on the pants, which turned out to be apair of black Dickies I’d used to paint the kitchen inmy new apartment that still bore wide swaths of “Summertime Lemonade,” and the Ramones shirt. I looked about as far from official as you could get, but I cared about as much as I cared about the feelings of the criminals I’d sent to jail.

Will drove us, his Mustang purring through the early morning streets. The trees were budding and a few flowers were poking their heads out. Spring had started while I’d been away. “You tell Bryson and the SCS you’re back yet?” he said. “And your cousin?”

“Holding off on all three until tonight,” I said. “I needed a day to just recuperate, get my head straightened out.”

Will, to his credit, just nodded and pulled the Mustang into his reserved space in the parking garage underneath the federal building.

We rode the elevator to the ATF’s suite with a bunch of FBI agents. My outfit got more than a few glances. The ATF offices are basically a cube farm, with a few offices to the back for senior agents. The ATF, unlike the FBI or