Steadfast(61)

“Hey, come on. You don’t want to talk with us?”

“By now I’d think that would be obvious,” she snapped.

Both of them just laughed, and the one who had been quiet up until now said, “You’re not gonna share? You’re not the only hungry person in the world, you know.”

What a relief to know they only wanted the food. If it came down to it, she could drop the sack and run as fast as her legs would carry her. These two wouldn’t come after her, because they’d be too busy scooping up this crappy canned food.

But then she and Uncle Dave wouldn’t have much to eat. She’d have to try to tough it out.

“Why are you being so stuck up?” the first guy said. “We’re trying to be friendly. You’re too good to talk to us, share what you’ve got to eat?”

Walk faster, she thought, but she couldn’t. Her body had burned through all its adrenaline at the hospital, and she had none left to match her fear. Exhaustion dragged at her, and she wondered whether she could run even if she had to.

The second guy, still quieter, said, “Why are you being such a bitch?”

Verlaine turned. “Why are you being such idiots? Listen. This is my food. Mine and my family’s. You want yours? Get in line like everyone else!” She dropped one of the bags at her feet, reached into her purse, and pulled out the pepper spray. “Things are screwed up in this town right now. But that doesn’t mean you can get away with anything you want. Now get the hell away from me before I burn your eyes out with this stuff, and don’t think I won’t.”

That wiped the smiles off their faces. As they slunk away, Verlaine let out a sigh. She doubted they’d follow her—they looked pretty shamefaced—but still, she thought she’d watch them go for a while before she turned her back.

Then she heard a soft laugh. “You’re more ferocious than I realized. I like that in a woman.”

“Asa.” Verlaine turned her head to see him standing off to the side, leaning against a parked car, utterly casual. “Wow, thanks for jumping in and saving me.”

“Demons aren’t big on saving people, as you might have guessed. Besides, you hardly seem to need rescuing.”

She’d had more than enough attitude for one day. “I’m going home,” Verlaine said. But even as she turned, she hesitated. She couldn’t shake the fear that the dock guys might yet decide to come after her and her stuff.

“You know, I was just thinking of taking a stroll,” Asa said, walking to her side. “I’d offer to carry your bags, but I’m afraid I’d burn through them.”

Being walked to her house was as much of a favor as she was ever likely to get from him. Verlaine decided to take it.

They went together side by side, through a town so still and shadowed that it might as well have been the middle of the night, though really it was only just after noon. Asa matched the speed of his steps to hers, and they were close enough that the unnatural heat of his skin warmed her slightly against the cold.

Verlaine knew she should thank him. Yet he remained a demon, and Elizabeth’s servant. She would thank no one working for the Sorceress who was even now torturing one of the people she loved most in the world.

When they reached the front step, Asa stood by her as she unlocked the door. It swung open, bathing them both in soft light; Uncle Dave must have left a lamp on. Verlaine was grateful for the illumination on this dark, weird day—until she saw Asa’s face looking down at her expectantly, and wished she hadn’t.

Because there was something about seeing him so . . . wistful, so eager, that turned her inside out.

“Help me put this stuff up,” she said. Was it rude, to just order him around? He didn’t seem to think so. Instead he just came inside and made himself busy beside her in the kitchen.

Wait. Should I not have done that? Is there something about not inviting demons inside your house? Or is that just vampires? Oh, crap, I hope there aren’t vampires. I have to ask Nadia about that. Also about asking in demons, but I’ve already done it, so—okay.

Smuckers came and twined himself around Asa’s legs, tail curling along his ankles and knees. Asa glanced over and saw Verlaine watching them. “Cats love demons,” he said.

“Why is that not even remotely surprising?”

He laughed. He had a beautiful laugh—nothing like Jeremy Prasad’s. Sometimes it was hard for Verlaine to remember that this was still Jeremy’s body; everything about Asa’s speech and laughter and movement was so different that he seemed to have transformed.

Asa wasn’t all bad. He couldn’t be. He deserved a chance. But could he be given one?

“Is there—” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Asa, is there any way to free you?”

His hand froze, still holding a bag of rice, halfway to the shelf. “. . . Free me?”

“From Elizabeth.”

“Only the One Beneath could do that. I serve at His pleasure.”

“Then, from the One Beneath.”

Asa turned to her then, his gaze impossibly sad. “Nothing any mortal could ever do.”

“It’s not fair, that you got—stolen into this. Kidnapped. Shanghaied.”

“Shanghaied. An old word. I like that.” Asa shook his head. “No. It’s not fair. But it’s the only existence I’ll ever have. I’ve accepted it.”