“I still can’t imagine how the humans got you out of there in one piece. Do you remember anything?”
“Very little. Lawrence insisted my mother all but threw me at them to secure her own escape, and I do have a vague recollection of a woman who was with me. Who disappeared, leaving me alone.”
Devin’s eyes widened. “Not possible. First, your mother was in a different building at the time, that’s how she survived. Second, she—”
“What’s her name?”
“Amelia. I know her well. She absolutely would have died trying to protect you, as your father did.”
“No. They didn’t protect me. They didn’t care.”
Devin frowned, but kept going. “Amelia never recovered mentally from the loss of you and Dante. Combined with the Decline, an old-age condition that can afflict older demons, she’s completely broken from reality. So much so, that I doubt she’ll comprehend who you are.” A pause. “I’m sorry.”
Jett averted his gaze, his ears and face growing hot. He had been with someone. Abandoned by someone.
Hadn’t he? His head ached. “I can’t tell where the memories end and the lies begin.”
“You should visit her,” Devin said, his voice quieter. “She moved to Eden, the demon colony in Canada, six months ago. Her condition is not something our archangels can heal, and Eden, being a much bigger colony, has a better facility to keep her comfortable.”
Jett hesitated, a weight settling on him. The weight of reality. Lawrence’s lies had been his coping mechanism—he knew that even though he hated to admit it to himself. Even as he’d observed Sanctuary that winter and spring and tasted the truth—that everything Lawrence had taught him had been pure shit—he’d clung to the lies. The truth was simply too painful.
The humans did take me from a good home. From a peaceful community. They took me not from two indifferent demons but from my family, who loved me.
“Why aren’t you listening to a word I’m saying?” Devin’s brow furrowed.
Because I’m about to sit on my ass and bawl, motherfucker. “Just stop talking to me.”
“Fine, Jackass.”
Across the street, a picture window provided a view of part of the restaurant’s dining room. A man wove between the tables. Recognition hit Jett like a punch to the gut.
“That’s one of them,” Devin said.
“Son of a bitch,” Jett said, grateful not just for the good luck presenting itself, but for the end of the other topic. “Finding Lawrence just got easier.”
“How so?”
“That’s Logan Anderson. We’ve met.” Jett pressed his lips together to keep a smile from exposing his fangs and stepped off the sidewalk.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to have a chat with an old friend. Trust me.”
Devin cursed, but didn’t stop him. Jett crossed the street and let himself into the restaurant. Inside, the scent of spices and coffee thickened the air. Jazz music played from hidden speakers.
“Table for one, sir?” The hostess, a teenager in a black suit, smiled.
Jett spotted his target sitting at a table along the back wall, facing a second man over a couple of beers. “Actually, I’m joining friends.” He minded his fangs as he spoke and indicated the table. “I’d like a coffee, please.”
The hostess nodded and stepped aside.
Patrons filled the small dining room. As he passed the bar, a woman in a blue dress pivoted in her swivel chair and leaned toward him.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said in a harsh whisper. Her brown eyes, framed by light brown hair, narrowed.
“Gwyn, I assume?”
She lifted a delicate shoulder and turned back to a mug of coffee and a fancy dessert. He had seen a couple female Guardians around Sanctuary, and Gwyn looked familiar if he imagined her with her hair up. The mirror behind the bar provided her a view of the poachers’ table, and their voices carried well. Unfortunately, their conversation focused on the upcoming football season as he approached. Time for a change of topic.
“I might have known you’d show up here, Logan,” Jett said.
“Jett?” Logan looked up from his beer, his mouth open.
Jett helped himself to a chair, planted his elbows on the table, and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper from behind his clasped fingers. “Here for the twins, are you? So am I.”
Logan’s shoulders loosened and he tapped his thumb against the tabletop. “Yeah, Henry and I are here on the job. You working for the old man, too?”
“Victor Lawrence? I’m considering his bid, but I might have a higher bidder in the wings, no pun intended.” The lies rolled easily off his tongue. He’d been forced to be one of them for far too long. At least now, he could put that past to good use.
Henry chuckled and held out his hand. “And you are?”
“This is Jett,” Logan said. “He and I used to work together, but I left a few months before that fucking Guardian raid.” He turned back to Jett. “What happened to Lark, anyway?”
Jett paused. He’d grown unused to hearing Thornton called by the name of the demon he’d possessed. These humans wouldn’t know that piece of trivia, of course. They also didn’t know Jett himself was a demon, so he focused on speaking through tight lips. “Some say he got killed; others say he just disappeared. I haven’t seen or heard from him, myself. I cut my loses and set out on my own. I figure if I can get even one archangel, I’ll be set for life.”
Logan leaned forward, his gaze eager. “And you have a higher bidder than Dr. Lawrence. How much higher?”
You’ve always been a greedy bastard. Lawrence’s millions aren’t enough for you? “High enough. He’s a collector of rare things.”
“Interesting.”
“Indeed.” Jett’s coffee arrived and he stirred in a packet of sugar. “But, so is Lawrence’s unusual request.”
“Taking them alive?” Henry shrugged. “Whatever. The customer is always right.”
“Yeah, and in this case, seriously pissed off.” Logan took a sip of his dark beer. “Today was totally fucked. More of the Guardians were supposed to go after the kid.”
Henry nodded, a deep frown on his face as he stared into his own beer.
“A full-on raid on the colony was a shit-poor plan to begin with,” Jett said. “It’s been done before. It’s failed each time.”
Logan muttered a string of curses.
“Have you spoken to Lawrence this evening?”
“Yeah. A meeting has been set up, a few weeks out. New guys, new plan. I’m gonna give it another go. I need the fucking money.” Logan sipped his beer.
Jett nodded. “Maybe I’ll stop by, try to start a bidding war and drive up Lawrence’s price. Got the details of this meeting?”
“We sure do.” Logan’s grin faded. “Not that we’d share such intelligence with a demon.”
Jett paused with his coffee at his lips. “Excuse me?”
Henry’s eyes widened and he looked Jett over. “That’s him?”
A chilly grin stretched across Logan’s face. “You played your part well. Lawrence knew you’d lead the Guardians to the old lab looking for the brat, giving us a good opportunity to strike.”
Suppressing the urge to reach out and crush the poacher’s throat, Jett set the coffee down and smiled, showing his fangs. “I figured Lawrence had used me. I didn’t expect a bottom dweller like yourself to be high enough up the ladder to know about it, though. Color me surprised.”
Logan swept up his tall beer glass and hurled it at Jett’s face. Jett leaped to his feet. The human followed, a switchblade in his hand. The restaurant’s patrons yelled and scattered, tripping over chairs and spilling drinks. A few of the tougher-looking men in the room gathered in a loose semicircle. Henry made a run for the exit along with everyone else, Gwyn in pursuit.