I see the flicker of discomfort behind his hazel eyes. I can’t smell emotions, but I can read them. I shake my head. “No. I have to focus on keeping Doug safe. I can only do that if I’m not distracted.”
“I can handle myself!”
I backtrack. “Yeah, which is why I need you here. So I’m not distracted worrying about the castle. I want every trained Watcher here when I’m not.”
Jade slumps in her chair, scowling. “Fine.”
Imogen clears the remains of the breakfast platter. “I’ll pack snacks for the road.” She hums as she leaves the room. Doug blinks, a bit dazed watching her. Rhys finalizes his notes and asks for a few more details from Doug. My mother watches me too closely. I stare up at the window, tired and sad and angry and only certain why I feel the first thing.
I know I should be focused on helping others, but all I can think is that a demon convention is exactly the distraction I need. I push down the fear lingering at the back of my mind that I might want more than a distraction. That I might be looking for a fight. I’m not that person.
The memory of the fight with the mercenaries—and, worse, my instincts to hurt Tsip when she surprised me—disagrees with me, though.
Whatever. I’ll find more demons to help. I’ll figure out how to contact Slayers who might need me. I’ll prove to Artemis that we made the right choice, that we aren’t just hiding. That we’re doing good. And when she comes back next time, she’ll stay.
ARTEMIS
ARTEMIS HAS TO ADMIT THAT Sean has upgraded. His subterranean office beneath a health-food storefront was fine, but the building in front of them is nearly blinding. It’s all windows and steel, something elegant in its surprising angles. The windows are interlocking triangles. The effect is oddly disorienting.
“The old building is cordoned off for being an environmental hazard,” Honora says, squinting up at the gleaming new one. “They’re filling the whole area in with cement.”
“A remora demon that expands to fill whatever container it’s in is pretty hazardous.” Artemis tightens her ponytail. “How did he afford this?”
“This isn’t Sean’s building. This is the guy Sean started partnering with. I only met him once. He was … weird. Big weird. Bad weird. I did my best to stay clear. I can smell a toxic power complex from two kilometers.” Her hands twitch, her fingers going to her wrists.
Back at the main Watcher compound, before everything and everyone blew up, Artemis had asked Nina how to treat bruises and welts. Nina was more than happy to show her. And then Artemis had found Honora and they hid in a cool, dry pantry while Artemis treated the damage Honora’s mother did. It was the first time Artemis had felt what the other girls giggled and whispered about when they had crushes. But hers felt so much bigger, so much more important.
A surge of protective instinct wells in Artemis. “You don’t have to do this.”
Honora bites her plum-colored lips. Her voice is neutral, but so carefully neutral Artemis can sense the hope behind it. Honora’s cool act is her biggest tell. The more she cares, the less it shows. “We could go to California. My cousin is still there, I think. We stake the vampire he works for, take over the PI company, then Nancy Drew the shit out of America.”
“How would Wesley feel about that?”
“Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,” Honora says in an exaggeratedly stuffy voice. “We could take him. I can’t imagine Los Angeles has changed him that much.”
For a moment, Artemis lets herself imagine it. Running away with Honora. Building a new life somewhere bright and warm, the environmental opposite of cold, closed-off Watchers. But there would still be the problem of power. Other people would have it, and Artemis wouldn’t. And then how could she protect Honora? How could she protect herself? How could she face what she knows is in the world as just herself? She needs to be more. And this is how to do it.
“Maybe someday.” She pretends to miss the slight fall of Honora’s shoulders. “But you don’t have to do this. Get me in and then if you want to leave, you should.”
Honora slides mirrored aviator sunglasses into place, and her lips part in a smile. If she’s devastated, she doesn’t show it. She never does. “It’s you and me against the world, right?”
Once, Artemis would have said the same to Nina. The memory of Nina’s disappointment in the library sits heavy alongside Honora’s dashed hopes. But until Artemis is what she should be, she’s going to keep disappointing everyone. It’s all a means to an end, and then they’ll understand and everything will be right. She has the book. She knows what to look for, what to wait for, what to do.
“You and me.” Artemis squeezes Honora’s hand. “You’re my girl.”
“Damn straight. Or damn gay, if we’re being accurate.” Honora beams and holds open the door. As soon as they enter the sleek lobby, Honora’s demeanor shifts. Her walk is deliciously sexy and somehow snide at the same time. Artemis doesn’t know how she does it. Honora goes straight to the receptionist’s desk and hops on it, sitting there and leaning back on her arms.
“Can I help you?” The receptionist’s pinched face threatens to pinch completely closed on itself in shock.
“Tell Sean I’m here.”
The receptionist glares. “And you are?”
“He’ll know.” Honora winks at Artemis over the top of her sunglasses. Artemis leans against a wall, unable to be flippant like Honora. She folds her arms and sets her face in stone. She can’t reveal how she feels. Because she’s not nervous. She’s excited.
The receptionist makes a call and not a minute later a man who could only be described as a born minion—small with ratlike eyes and greasy hair—leads them to an elevator and pushes an elaborate series of buttons. They glide up the building to the penthouse floor. All the walls along the hallway are glass, so they see the meeting before they reach it. A huge oval table is surrounded by men in suits. They’re watching a screen filled with graphs and charts. Sean himself is the one presenting, using a stupid laser pointer to emphasize certain points.
Artemis and Honora slip into the back of the room, standing next to a bound and gagged demon cowering in the corner next to a potted plant.