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  “Heritage. Family,” I reply, unsure why I care. At one point, I have to climb on the arm of my new couch.

  Lucas’s eyes twinkle. “They didn’t tell me you were so young . . . or so intriguing.”

  “Who are they?”

  “The Court. Your town’s Court. You know, the whole Sun and Moon thing?”

  Startled, I almost fall off the sofa, my fingers finding purchase on the leather. “The Court sent you?”

  Lucas stops in front of the couch, and I drop down behind it, the sofa a shield between us.

  “They would have told me.” I glance around frantically. “S-supernatural newcomers are supposed to register with the Court. The wards . . . they’ll know you’re here.” I shake a finger at him. “Demons aren’t immune.”

  He smiles. “They summoned me with quite an interesting message. I told you I’m not a demon, and I’m not very good with rules. They’ll know I’m here when I’m ready for them to know. Going to them first would have been a lot less interesting than this.” Glancing at the floor, he cocks a brow. “I kind of miss the broom. You looked cute with it.”

  What dignity I have left bristles at his comment. “You’ve got a lot of . . .” The words trail off, my eyes widening. Only one kind of supernatural being is immune to the Court and the wards, and as far as I know, not many of them make their homes in Havenwood Falls. “You’re an angel.” Shock colors my words.

  He dips his head. “Well done, Harper.” Spreading his arms wide, he adds, “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, do you want to tell me why I smell Hell on you?”

  I may not watch television or read any books, but I do listen to a lot of audiobooks on CDs from which my aunt removes the labels. Mostly science fiction and romance, because sci-fi is cool and romance is, well, romance.

  The last thing a girl ever wants to hear from anyone—it doesn’t matter who it is—is that they smell like Hell.

  It takes everything I’ve got not to sniff myself. “Hell has a smell?”

  He laughs, the sound masculine and deep. It gives me an odd feeling, as if it’s the kind of laugh that gives purpose to life, which seems weird, and yet . . . maybe not. Every time I’ve accidentally channeled a demon over the years, it felt like something was stolen from me. This laugh—an angel’s laugh—gives something back.

  For a woman drowning in darkness, it’s a heady feeling.

  “It doesn’t smell like mortals would assume,” Lucas assures me. “It’s not all brimstone and sulfur.” His eyes shine. “It smells like sin.”

  “Which is bad, right?”

  “To some.” The way he arches his brows suggests he isn’t one of the “some.”

  My mouth gapes. “You’re fallen.” The words come out on a whisper. It doesn’t take much to figure out what he is. Lucas has that how can something that looks so good be so bad feel to him, and he definitely doesn’t smell like Hell.

  He sits on the arm of the couch, and I’m tempted to lunge for my broom. Fallen angels have to be fallen for a reason, right?

  “Don’t look so horrified,” he says. “Considering the evil you channeled, you’re going to be glad I am who I am. I feel him. He shouldn’t be coming, but he is. You and this town are going to need me.”

  His warning makes my heart race, and I touch the bruises on my neck. “If he’s a demon—”

  “He’s more than a demon. He’s an archdemon. A lord of Hell. A part of the highest order in the underworld. You called royalty, Ms. Sinclair.”

  I am pretty sure I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

  Lucas stands. “You have a nice home.”

  A thank you hangs off the tip of my tongue, but it never makes it out of my mouth before Lucas suddenly vanishes.

  My legs give out, and I sink to the floor, the fire crackling in the hearth the only sound in the room. The blaze should warm me, but I feel cold. Way too cold.

  Fallen angels. Archdemons.

  I own a house. I don’t know why I cling to that thought. Maybe because, with everything happening to me, I need a reminder that a little piece of me remains.

  There’s only one remedy for the sick feeling in my stomach: grilled cheese sandwiches.

  That’s the thing with issues like mine. After years of having to face the monsters under my bed, or in my case, out of accidental messages, I’ve had to find ways to cope. Wine is a pretty good remedy. Hell, there’ve been times I’ve just thrown back the hard stuff, but drunkenness means losing control. Losing control means forgetting not to read messages or write. That leaves food. Forget ice cream. There’s nothing better for stress eating than carbs and melted cheese. And butter.

  Oh, the butter.

  Chapter 5

  Barely twenty-four hours into living on my own, and I’m back in town, the sun shining down on my uncovered head, my coat pulled tightly closed. Despite growing up in the mountains, I am always cold, which is the reason I have a tendency to tuck insole foot warmers into the bottom of my boots and hand warmers into the pockets of my coat. If I can keep my feet warm, the rest of me manages.

  Pedestrians crowd the sidewalk despite the late November temperatures, most of them taking advantage of the Thanksgiving week sales. Murmurs of conversation ride the wind, puffed breaths mingling with the smells of coffee and food.

  I pause outside my aunt’s shop, the words Into the Mystic New Age Books and Gifts burned into a wooden sign hanging above my head. I don’t look up at it. My breath leaves condensation on the store’s glass door, the heat clouding the interior.

  My stomach hurts. Anxiety, maybe? Or the ridiculous amount of greasy grilled cheese sandwiches I inhaled the night before.

  The bell dings when I enter. “Aunt Eloise,” I call, “we need to talk.”

  Beads clink together. “What do you think about reserving an area of the park for storytellers at the psychic fair this year? Maybe dressed as authentic minstrels?” In white tights and a top covered in swirly colors, my aunt looks like a lollipop. A lollipop that’s avoiding eye contact. “Imagine how enthralling and vivid it would be.”

  Every year on the spring equinox, Eloise runs an Into the Mystic New Age and Psychic Fair in Town Square Park. She starts planning the next year’s event as soon as the current one ends, and as much as I love helping her come up with ideas, I know a distraction when I see one.

  “The Court sent me an angel. A fallen angel.” The statement sits in the air between us, heavy and accusing.

  Eloise tugs on one of her hoop earrings. She has eight earrings in all, most of them studs and none of them the same color. “I know. Saundra informed me.” She tugs harder on the hoop. “Technically, they sent you the angel your message called out by name.”

  “Hmm.” It feels good to throw out a few hmms of my own, instead of receiving them.

  “He’s a warrior,” Eloise tries again. “There aren’t many high-ranking supernaturals who don’t know who Lucas Fox is.”

  “Hmm.” My arms cross.

  “He fell from the highest order an angel can fall from. He’s one of the most powerful of his kind. That’s all I know, Harper.”

  “Is he dangerous?” I ask, dropping my arms. “Because he just showed up at my house. Out of nowhere.”

  Moving past me to the table she keeps stocked with candles, she begins sorting them. First by size and then by color. “The Court wouldn’t bring in someone dangerous.”

  “That’s a lie,” I snap, surprising us both. “I’m dangerous, and they let me live here.”

  “Harper—”

  “Is he dangerous to me?”

  I leave what I really want to ask unsaid. She knows. Because of my curse, I should have never taken the pen. I should have never attempted to write my name. I not only put people in danger, I put the entire town at risk. The Court has every right to punish me.

  A sudden brilliant light fills the room, followed by a familiar golden visage. “Give me a little credit, sweetheart. I don’t punish people unless I have a personal reason to.” />
  Eloise knocks over two of her candles. I nearly fall into a display of essential oils.

  “I expected a little fanfare, but nearly fainting . . . I’m humbled.” Lucas Fox saunters across the shop, his blue eyes glinting.

  Eloise rights the candles. “I had heard you were arrogant.”

  He smiles. “I had heard you were charming.”

  “I haven’t heard anything.” Frustration turns my voice into a growl. “And that light thing,” I wave at Lucas, “you couldn’t have done that when we first met?”

  Lucas roams the shop, an appreciative gleam in his eyes. “I’m not sure what smells better. The scotch you have put away or the holy water you’ve got for sale.” Pausing at a rack, he lifts a vial of clear liquid. “What proof is this, you think?” Popping the top off, he sniffs it. “Fifty percent, at best.”

  Curiosity gets the better of me. “Holy water?”

  Lucas replaces the vial. “Angels can’t get drunk on alcohol, but holy water,” he laughs, “let’s just say it’s intoxicating.”

  I try so hard not to smile and fail.

  Pointing at me, he winks. “There you go. I knew you had it in you. You’re going to need it.” He glances at Eloise. “You’ve got a witch, a shifter, and a fae coming in three, two . . .”

  The bell above the door dings.

  Saundra Beaumont is the first to storm in, looking like the avenging angel Lucas is supposed to be. Close on her heels is Elsmed Fairchild, a one-hundred-and-two-year-old male fae with frosty blue eyes and a bone to pick. Bringing up the rear is Ric Kasun, Havenwood Falls’ sheriff and a wolf-shifter. At six foot four and built as solidly as the black Chevy truck he drives around town, he looks in no mood to play games. All of them are from old families, all of them are representatives of the Court of the Sun and the Moon, and all of them are pissed.

  “Close up shop,” Saundra commands Eloise. “Now.”

  My aunt wastes no time obeying, knocking over more of the candles in her haste to flip the open sign to closed.

  Saundra turns to Lucas. “You want to explain to me why you’re not standing in court right now? Why you had the audacity to summon us here!”

  Completely unfazed, the angel circles behind the store’s checkout counter, stoops to retrieve something off of the shelves built beneath, and rises with a bottle of scotch and a glass. He pours the liquid.

  “Want some?” he asks. The question is met with hard stares. Lucas shrugs, downs the amber-colored liquid, and then tips the empty glass at me. “I figured the familiar setting would make this a lot easier on the girl.”

  Elsmed’s glacial eyes swing my way. He has silver hair, a flat nose, and a long chin, and I find myself thinking he’d be just as intimidating as an iceberg as he is as a fae. “Speaking of court—”

  “She didn’t get the summons,” Lucas interrupts. “I intercepted it.”

  While they argue, I stumble, catching myself. The stomach pain I’d felt when I arrived at my aunt’s shop worsens. My head pounds, my skin itching. The fading bruises around my neck tingle.

  Something is wrong with me.

  Ric Kasun frowns, his muscles tense when he advances on the fallen angel. Even out of uniform—his broad frame in flannel, jeans, and boots—he looks every bit the sheriff this town needs. He removes a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose, revealing silvery blue eyes framed by black hair and a scruffy jaw. “There are rules in place here, Mr. Fox.”

  Lucas’s gaze hardens, his smirk wiped away. For the first time since I’ve met him, he scares me. “I’m not breaking the law, Sheriff. I just changed the Court’s venue. Should I remind all of you that I’m here to help your town, not hurt it?”

  “We have a certain way we do things,” Saundra inserts.

  “I’m becoming well aware of that,” Lucas mumbles. Setting down his glass, he straightens to full height, putting him eye to eye with Sheriff Kasun. “My first priority is the girl and the archdemon using her as a conduit. You don’t want a demon like him anywhere near your Court.” He comes around the counter, leaving nothing between him and the Court members. “Let me give you a rundown on how archdemons play games. Leviathan—Levi to make things simple and because I seriously don’t like the bastard—won’t set off your wards. He’s not like the demons you have in residence here. He has an eternity of tricks up his sleeve. You won’t know he’s coming until he shows up.”

  My heart begins to race, and I tug at my shirt as heat washes over me. I am hot, so very hot, and I never get hot.

  Ric’s eyes narrow. “Talk to us, angel. Why won’t our wards detect him?”

  “Because he has other ways of getting into your town.” Lucas’s gaze finds me. “It starts with nightmares, terrible visions full of death. Then the marks come.”

  I can’t breathe. My world has narrowed to the heat in my skin and the look Lucas gives me. Blue eyes. There are too many blue eyes in this room.

  My vision blurs.

  Lucas approaches me, a hazy figure in a shop full of mystical things.

  “What are you doing?” I gasp, my words sounding so very far away, as if I’m yelling inside an echoing tunnel.

  I want to back away, but I can’t.

  “Angel,” Ric warns, a low growl escaping him. His wolf is on high alert.

  When he reaches me, Lucas grabs the hem of my sweatshirt, fisting the material in his hands before jerking it up past my bra, his gaze locking with mine. “Don’t look down.”

  The Court members gasp.

  “Oh, my God!” Eloise exclaims. “What’s happening to her?” She starts to rush toward me, but Lucas pushes me toward the counter.

  “Keep your distance,” he says. “You’re psychic, and she’s a conduit. You touch her now, and you’re just as likely to suffer.” He leans forward. “Deep breaths, Harper.”

  I inhale, exhale, and inhale again. Oxygen rushes into my system, clearing my vision and making me horrendously lightheaded.

  Putting a little distance between us, his hands still wrapped in my shirt, Lucas finally gives me space enough to look down.

  “Prepare for the worst,” he advises.

  My gaze falls, my breath catching in my throat. Shock and horror turn me mute, trapping any noises or words I’m tempted to make or say. Claw marks run across my stomach, ending just beneath my ribs.

  Saundra Beaumont bears down on us, her face stormy. “What does this mean?”

  “It’s exactly what it looks like,” Lucas replies. “Demonic possession. Well, a form of it. He’s not directly inhabiting her body, but he’s siphoning power and energy. When the time comes, Levi will use Harper to get into Havenwood Falls. She’s his portal. By the time the wards detect him, he will have caused a lot of destruction.”

  My aunt begins to cry, her tears an eerie song in a tense room of silence.

  “But the archdemon wants you, right?” Saundra asks finally, her deep brown eyes locked on Lucas.

  “All because I wanted to write my name,” I whisper, mostly to myself.

  Lucas lets my shirt drop, but he doesn’t release me, his gaze swinging to the witch. “He holds a grudge against me.”

  Saundra’s jaw tenses. “Can you defeat him?”

  “Them,” Lucas corrects. “There are two demons attracted to Harper. One can trip your wards, but don’t underestimate her. Because I’m not sure why I feel her, and I don’t know why she’s linked with the psychic.”

  “Two!” Eloise’s sobs grow. It sounds like her heart is breaking. Maybe it is.

  “Shit!” Ric swears. “This is a security nightmare!” He glances at me, and I know what he’s really thinking by the sympathetic look in his eyes. I’m the security nightmare. His heart is too big to admit it, too big to blame me out loud.

  Ric turns to Saundra. “We need to keep them out of the town. I don’t have any desire to tie up with an archdemon or a stranger, but I’ll be damned if I let them hurt anyone in Havenwood Falls.”

  “What can you do to help?” Elsmed steps f
orward, his disconcerting eyes studying the fallen angel. “On Saundra’s request, we summoned you to fix this problem.”

  Lucas’s gaze finds mine again. “I have some favors I plan to call in.”

  The way he says it—the way he looks at me—is oddly reassuring. His hands are warm against the skin of my waist, and I find myself struggling with the need to push him away and the desire to pull him closer. Stranger or no, he looks like salvation.

  With a small wink, he releases me, and turns to Saundra. “You and your witches may have to spell a few people, but I’ll do my best to keep it contained.”

  “And you don’t know when he’ll come?” Saundra asks.

  “It depends on how much strength he’s gained. Any advantage I have will depend on how weak being in the Infernum has made him.” The look he gives her tells a thousand stories. “You know what the Infernum does, witch. You hold a key that opens a portal into part of it. It’s a potent feeling finding a weakness that can trap something powerful, isn’t it? I have friends in very high places. Low ones, too. I am impressed by what you’ve done with the Blue Dragon Dagger.”

  Saundra’s eyes fill with understanding and wisdom too deep to fathom. I’ve known the Court members since I was a child, but I don’t think I truly realized how much they knew about this strange world we live in. Until now. They know things I can’t even fathom. Things I’m not sure it’s safe for me to know. Things I wonder if I should know.

  Saundra sighs, swipes her hands down her black business suit, and says, “Just get that devil and anyone working with him out of my town, angel.”

  Lucas bows, and although it comes off as sarcastic, respect flickers in his gaze. “My pleasure, my lady.”

  “And follow close on his heels while you’re at it,” Saundra adds.

  Lucas grins. “Aw, I see just how much you’re going to miss me.”

  Saundra studies him, her lips twitching. “I don’t know whether you’re one of the good guys or one of the bad, Lucas Fox, and that unnerves me.”

  “We’re all walking a blurred line, witch. It often takes being bad to save the good.”