Page 57 of Higher Demon

“Trying to find words that don’t include ‘fuck’?” I ask. “Or trying to keep from yelling?”

“Both,” he admits. “You remember that this is the demon that nearly killed us, right?”

“Nearly killed you,” I correct. “He never touched me.” Not that way, anyway. And not back then. Gross.

“So you don’t mind being friends with someone who tried to kill me?” he demands incredulously. “Wow. Thanks a fucking lot.”

Okay, no. “Cut the bullshit, Con. Yeah, Marc tried to kill you, but you know why. And if you tell me you would have made any other decision in that situation, I’ll know you’re lying. You don’t like him, and that’s fine. He hasn’t gone out of his way to make himself likable, especially not to you. But don’t try to say he’s the bad guy here.” I glance up and see Marc standing about ten feet down the hall, listening. His expression is unreadable, but then he smiles at me. It’s just a flash, just for a moment, before he turns and walks toward the kitchen, but?—

“You are friends with him, then.” It’s not a question.

“Yeah, we’re friends.” With benefits. And I might be catching feelings, but I’m not going to think about that while I’m talking to my brother. “As much as Marccanbe friends with anyone, anyway.” I hesitate, then soften my tone. “You don’t have to like him, Connor, but he’s doing good work here. He’s really trying to make this truce a reality. And hey, you’re not dead, right? So maybe cut him some slack for that, because there’s a lot ofhumanswho would have killed you even if they had an excuse not to.”

He snorts, and I relax a little. “I can feel your love from here, little brother. Thanks.” His sigh is deep and heartfelt. “I guess I still have issues trusting him, but I haven’t been there all this time like you have. You know him better than me.”

I wince. That’s truer than he knows. “Yeah,” I manage.

“He’s still an asshole, though.”

“Definitely.”

“And it probably doesn’t mean as much because I yelled at you first, but I’m proud of you. All the stuff Gayle said you’re doing is incredible. You’re a better person than I could ever be.”

“That’s bullshit.” There’s something in my throat. That’s the only reason my voice is so thick all of a sudden. “But thanks.”

“Okay. When are you coming out for a visit? I promise I won’t put you to work in the new compound.”

“Soon,” I promise. “Maybe this summer? But that’s Kieran’s busy season….” Con’s boyfriend runs a hotel and tourist attraction.

Connor laughs. “Dude, every season is busy season for Kier. He doesn’t know when to stop. Come in the summer and give me an excuse to make him take time off. Plus, everyone’s here at that time of year, and they all want to see you. Matt too.”

“We’ll plan something.” Impulse drives me to add, “Maybe I could swing something a bit sooner if I make it a work trip? Marc could do a Q&A there at the compound. Did Gayle tell you how valuable it was?” I hold my breath while he takes forever to answer.

Finally he says, “She mentioned that. I guess… I guess I can’t deprive my people here from necessary education. Let me talk it over with Gabe.”

I close my eyes for a second. “Great idea.” Part of me really wants to ask his opinion on the whole situation with the Highett family, but I’m about 98 percent sure he’ll have a coronary at the first hint that there might still be moles in the Collective. Better to wait until I know more. “Let me know, and I’ll set it up.”

We say our goodbyes, and I drop my phone in my lap and sigh as I let my head fall back against the wall. This has been such a long fucking day.

“That was interesting,” a voice says. A strange voice. “Is that kind of family dynamic common among humans?”

My head snaps around, and I stare at the unfamiliar higher demon standing only a few feet away from me.

Then I shriek.

Chapter22

Marc

I laugh.The sound emerging from Ian’s throat is too amusing to resist. Titus looks back over his shoulder at me. “Why is he making that noise?”

“It’s a human foible,” I explain. “They do odd things like this.”

The scream cuts off sharply. “What thefuck, Marc! Who is this?” Ian demands. “And why is he listening to me like a creeper?”

“Creeper?” Titus asks.

“Stalker,” I explain. It’s close enough. “Ian, this is Titus. He’s?—”

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