Page 26 of Samhain Savior

His words made sense—I’d seen the same thing over and over. People tended to be happy to ignore what they wanted to—but I couldn’t understand why he sounded like the situation made him sad.

As we continued on our way, New York City came alive around us, the streets filled with people hustling along, most with life-giving coffee clutched in their hands. Everyone seemed like they had somewhere important to be, the chaos of the city looking like a well-rehearsed dance aspeople went about their business, in a hurry to go absolutely nowhere.

But Vine was right; none of them truly saw us, their gazes sliding over our little group as though we were as insubstantial as the shadows that currently danced along my throat.

After less than ten minutes we arrived at a stately brownstone, the massive four-story building standing tall in a row of nearly identical homes. Iron bars fenced in the small front yard, the wickedly pointed tips a stark warning to anyone who might dare approach. Dark and foreboding, the house lacked any of the warmth that the softly lit windows of the neighbors held, rising above the street, silent and cold, a sentinel standing against the ever-turning passage of humanity.

I was drawn to a jerking stop when Archer gave another tug on the leash, and I glared at him before turning to face the house we’d stopped at. As I stared up at it, the watery morning sun providing a muted gray glow against the weathered façade, I wondered just what in the holy hells we were doing here, the home such a beautiful contradiction of history and malice.

“Well, you gonna stand out here all day, or are you coming in?” Vine asked, following Archer up the steep front steps.

“Come in? Who lives here?”

“We do,” Vine laughed, as though it should have been obvious. “Home sweet home, baby.”

Chapter eleven

Delilah

The place was immaculate, expertly designed and expensively outfitted. It was a far cry from the two-bedroom attic apartment Heidi and I had most recently called home, that was for sure.

As soon as we’d crossed the threshold, with Mal closing and locking the door behind us, the leash had disappeared, the connection to Archer vanishing in a blink.

The collar, however, remained.

Pandora wiggled urgently, clearly wanting to look around, so I released her from her pouch, holding her gently as she took in our new surroundings.

The main floor was long and narrow, as I assumed all brownstones would be. Natural woods and cream-painted walls gave warmth to the space that I would have never expected from the home of a demon.

Although, it wasn’t like I had expected skeletons and torture devices, either.

The truth was, Archer and the guys defied everything I’d ever been told about their kind. Witches and demons were mortal enemies—had been for a long time. I’d been raised to hate and fear them, blindly, and I had. But the time I’d spent in their presence was starting to change my perception.

Vine, with his hilarious antics and ineffable humor keeping things light. Corson, always so stoic and steady. I could tell he was a reliable friend to have in your corner. Mal, taciturn maybe, but visibly kind beneath it all.

Even Archer, the leader of their band of misfits, had shown compassion, choosing to leave the morgue rather than push a confrontation with the human workers which would have only resulted in their deaths.

Or worse.

At every turn, these men had surprised me, and I was left wondering what else my education at the hands of other witches had lacked.

“Come on through to the kitchen,” Vine called, already disappearing down the narrow corridor. I found him there, head in the fridge, moving items around as he dug in the back for something. “Don’t have any bugs for her, but I think there’s some frozen bananas. Maybe.”

“She’s fine,” I said, suddenly uncomfortable with Vine’s amiable behavior. “I’ll figure something out.”

“No way.” Closing the fridge, he turned to me, shaking his head. “She needs to eat.” Vine looked at Pandora, his brows drawn down in a frown. “She’s pretty small for a familiar, isn’t she?”

“She’s perfect,” I said defensively as Pandora gave an indignant huff.

“Well, you had to have a plan for her before we crashed your party. What were you gonna feed her?”

“My bags had—” I started, but paused when the others entered the room, their presence sending a chill across my skin, as though someone had lowered the temperature by five degrees in an instant.

Mal wasted no time, moving right past me and heading for the door that led to a back patio. Once he was out there, staring at the heavy gray sky, he seemed to relax, throwing his head back and just breathing.

Corson took up a position near the window, arms crossed, his body angled just enough so that he could keep an eye on the inside of the house and watch the street below at the same time.

Archer was last to enter the kitchen, pausing at the door to assess everyone, their positions, andif I wasn’t mistaken, their frame of mind. He looked at each of them, his gaze fiery and probing, landing on me last.