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Authors: MAGGIE SHAYNE
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dream.”
“She looks like a nightmare.” Still, I got in and dutifully
buckled up, surprised that the inside looked pretty nice. Definitely a lot
better than I’d expected.
In seconds he was behind the wheel, turning the key, smiling at
the sound of the engine. “Hear that?”
“Sounds like a car, all right. So it only looks like it’s going to fall apart on the road, then?”
He rolled his eyes. “Mechanics first, comfort second, cosmetics
last of all. It’s the unwritten motor head code.”
It was comfortable, I had to give him that. There was enough
room in the back to transport a small sofa. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but it
was big. Despite the super-soft leather and the ultracozy seat, though, I still
felt like shit, no matter how I sat.
“Your back?” he asked.
I sent him an almost irritated look, though I was secretly
impressed and a little surprised by how much attention the guy was paying to me.
“It doesn’t really hurt. It’s like a phantom pain, every time I remember—” I
stopped there, because giving voice to anything more would only conjure it
again. The brutal lashes of the whip. Oh, shit, too late. “You don’t miss much,
do you?”
“You’re my calling, Indira. I’m not likely to miss a thing now
that I’ve found you.”
“Hell, Tomas, if you weren’t wearing that collar, I’d think you
were about to propose.”
He looked at me briefly, then pulled away from the curb. I
could have sworn a hint of panic appeared on his face, but maybe I’d imagined
it. And that was another reason I wasn’t worried about going off with the guy.
He was a priest, and he hadn’t done a single thing out of line. I was the one
having impure thoughts, not him.
I figured I’d give him a break and change the subject all the
same. “So tell me about your demon fighting thing. You do it often?”
He smiled a little. “Never. And it’s just the one demon.”
“Does he have a name?”
“I’ve only heard him called ‘He Whose Name Must Not Be
Spoken.’”
“Are you shitting me? He doesn’t even have a name?” I looked at
him, waiting for the punch line. But he only smiled and shook his head.
“I know. I know how crazy it sounds. And to tell you the truth,
I was pretty skeptical myself until I saw those marks on your back.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I gotta say they made an impression on me, too.” I
didn’t want to talk about that, though. My world had taken a turn for the
macabre, and I was trying to focus on the parts that went down a little easier.
Those phantom lashes from that phantom whip had left real wounds, and that
flat-out scared me too much to dwell on just yet. I’d get to it. But right now,
I thought, let’s stick to the easy stuff. Stuff about him and this so-called
demon of his.
“So how many priests are there on your…um…anti-demon
squad?”
“Two,” he said. “Me and the man who trained me, Father Dom. You
see, one priest from our sect—”
“The Leaders of the Pack.” That’s right, keep it light.
“The Keepers of the Pact,” he corrected. He gave me an odd
look, like he was amused but trying to figure me out at the same time. I liked
the way his eyes felt when they moved over my face, probably because I got the
feeling he liked what he saw.
Priest, Indy. Priest. Priest.
Priest.
“One of us is chosen from each generation as the Guardian of
the Portal. Dom chose me. Just as he was chosen by his predecessor.”
“And what was his name?” I asked.
“Father Dom’s predecessor?”
Tomas frowned. “You know, he never told me.”
“I bet it rhymed. Tom. Dom. Rom, maybe?”
The look he sent me this time was a searching frown, like he
was seeing through my plot. Yeah, I was using humor to keep this light, to try
to pretend nothing all that serious was happening. But I was also scared half to
death. And I was pretty sure it showed. I got the feeling there wasn’t much I
could hide from those perceptive brown eyes of his.
“When the current
“She looks like a nightmare.” Still, I got in and dutifully
buckled up, surprised that the inside looked pretty nice. Definitely a lot
better than I’d expected.
In seconds he was behind the wheel, turning the key, smiling at
the sound of the engine. “Hear that?”
“Sounds like a car, all right. So it only looks like it’s going to fall apart on the road, then?”
He rolled his eyes. “Mechanics first, comfort second, cosmetics
last of all. It’s the unwritten motor head code.”
It was comfortable, I had to give him that. There was enough
room in the back to transport a small sofa. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but it
was big. Despite the super-soft leather and the ultracozy seat, though, I still
felt like shit, no matter how I sat.
“Your back?” he asked.
I sent him an almost irritated look, though I was secretly
impressed and a little surprised by how much attention the guy was paying to me.
“It doesn’t really hurt. It’s like a phantom pain, every time I remember—” I
stopped there, because giving voice to anything more would only conjure it
again. The brutal lashes of the whip. Oh, shit, too late. “You don’t miss much,
do you?”
“You’re my calling, Indira. I’m not likely to miss a thing now
that I’ve found you.”
“Hell, Tomas, if you weren’t wearing that collar, I’d think you
were about to propose.”
He looked at me briefly, then pulled away from the curb. I
could have sworn a hint of panic appeared on his face, but maybe I’d imagined
it. And that was another reason I wasn’t worried about going off with the guy.
He was a priest, and he hadn’t done a single thing out of line. I was the one
having impure thoughts, not him.
I figured I’d give him a break and change the subject all the
same. “So tell me about your demon fighting thing. You do it often?”
He smiled a little. “Never. And it’s just the one demon.”
“Does he have a name?”
“I’ve only heard him called ‘He Whose Name Must Not Be
Spoken.’”
“Are you shitting me? He doesn’t even have a name?” I looked at
him, waiting for the punch line. But he only smiled and shook his head.
“I know. I know how crazy it sounds. And to tell you the truth,
I was pretty skeptical myself until I saw those marks on your back.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I gotta say they made an impression on me, too.” I
didn’t want to talk about that, though. My world had taken a turn for the
macabre, and I was trying to focus on the parts that went down a little easier.
Those phantom lashes from that phantom whip had left real wounds, and that
flat-out scared me too much to dwell on just yet. I’d get to it. But right now,
I thought, let’s stick to the easy stuff. Stuff about him and this so-called
demon of his.
“So how many priests are there on your…um…anti-demon
squad?”
“Two,” he said. “Me and the man who trained me, Father Dom. You
see, one priest from our sect—”
“The Leaders of the Pack.” That’s right, keep it light.
“The Keepers of the Pact,” he corrected. He gave me an odd
look, like he was amused but trying to figure me out at the same time. I liked
the way his eyes felt when they moved over my face, probably because I got the
feeling he liked what he saw.
Priest, Indy. Priest. Priest.
Priest.
“One of us is chosen from each generation as the Guardian of
the Portal. Dom chose me. Just as he was chosen by his predecessor.”
“And what was his name?” I asked.
“Father Dom’s predecessor?”
Tomas frowned. “You know, he never told me.”
“I bet it rhymed. Tom. Dom. Rom, maybe?”
The look he sent me this time was a searching frown, like he
was seeing through my plot. Yeah, I was using humor to keep this light, to try
to pretend nothing all that serious was happening. But I was also scared half to
death. And I was pretty sure it showed. I got the feeling there wasn’t much I
could hide from those perceptive brown eyes of his.
“When the current
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