Page 139

STATE OF KER

At a convenience storeattached to a charging station in the city of Réalta, Loren came out of the restroom to find that the line-up she’d had to wait in had grown by a startling number of people.

The little business was packed. Food, beverages, and supplies were flying off the shelves, the frazzled employees behind the counter rushing to ring people through.

A long line-up wasn’t the only thing waiting for her as the restroom door banged shut behind her, a witch at the front hurrying forward for her turn.

Her personal bodyguard was waiting for her, too. Right where she’d left him by the restroom door. Though his features—Devils tattoo included—were obscured beneath the hood of the black sweatshirt he wore under his leather jacket, it was easy to tell that this was not a man you should mess with. Which was probably why several people had offered for her to cut ahead of them in line.

She’d felt bad for them. Had fought the urge to tell them that her guard dog wouldn’t bite—okay, fine,mightnot bite—unless she let him off the leash. But she hadn’t turned down their offer.

Now, Loren kept her mouth shut and her head down to hide her identity as she walked past the line, Darien shadowing her. She could feel the odd curious gaze gliding across her and the Darkslayer looming at her back, but no one dared look for longer than a moment. She squeezed between people in the aisle closest to the windows, Darien mirroring her every step of the way, and pushed through the door that chimed with their departure.

The weather was milder here than in Yveswich. She still needed her jacket, though, and Darien’s. Another small plus was that it was dry here—no rain. Soon, they would be back in Angelthene’s balmy spring weather.

She was looking forward to it. Seeing Sabrine again was another thing she couldn’t wait for. She missed her friend, who she hadn’t spoken to since before she had fallen into a coma. They had a lot to catch up on. Sabrine had always been good at listening, and right now Loren had a lot to say.

The truck and the car were parked around the corner of the building. Jack, Lace, and Arthur stood talking near the blinding beams of the headlights. This area was safe, no monsters prowling the parking lot that was shared by the charging station, a supermarket, a blood donor clinic, a clothing store for lycanthropes, and several drive-through restaurants. But staying close to a source of light was a force of habit not easily broken in a world crawling with predators.

Arthur gave them a tired smile as they joined the group. “Got some snacks while you were using the loo,” he announced, lifting the plastic bag in his hand.

Darien frowned. “I didn’t want you going in there, Art.”

The old man blinked. “Why not?”

“Someone could’ve spotted you.”

“Youwent in there,” Arthur challenged. “Someone could’ve spottedyou.”

“I had to go in there to look out for Loren,” Darien said, taking cigarette number four out of the pack—empty now, by the looks of it. “No offense, but I don’t want to have to look out for you, too.” He lit up, shielding the flame with his hand as a breeze stirred through the lot.

“That won’t be necessary. I may be more than three times your age, but I can handle myself.”

Lace attested, “Hedidjust take a pretty thorough beating. He’s tough.”

Darien wasn’t convinced. “You didn’t even hide your face, did you?” he accused. “Where’s your hood?” Arthur’s jacket was a windbreaker—no hood.

“Enough, Darien,” Arthur said, dismissing his concerns with a wave. “No one’s going to notice an old man the same way they will a six foot five menace.” When he poked Darien in the chest, Loren had to press her lips together to stifle a laugh.

Darien glanced at her, as if requesting backup.

She merely shrugged.

“I stand corrected,” Darien said.

“Good. Now go on and pick your snacks.” He held the bag open in offer, plastic rustling in the wind. “Everyone gets to pick two.”

“Ladies first,” Darien said. He waved her forward, smoke from his cigarette curling through the air.

“The pretzels are mine,” Arthur declared as Loren selected sour candies and a small bag of cheese puffs.

“What if I wanted the pretzels?” Darien crooned, tossing Loren a wink as he reached into the bag. Gods, it was hard to stay angry at him when he flirted with her like this. They had barely said a word to each other for the last portion of the drive here—after he’d told her that he loved her and she hadn’t said it back. The fact that he was talking to her at all after how upset he’d seemed was a surprise.

“Then you, Mr. Moneybags, can buy your own damn pretzels,” Arthur said with playful attitude.

Darien chuckled. “You’re grumpy.”

“Because I somehow got dragged into running with you lot,” he clipped as Darien grabbed a cookies-and-cream chocolate bar. Arthur added, “I’m too old for all this hullabaloo.”