Veiled (Ada Palomino 1)

“Ada, you’ve been seeing ghosts for some time now. But those aren’t the only things that can harm you. It’s the demons you aren’t seeing yet. They sure as hell see you.”

A soul-deep chill runs through me. I shiver. “Demons? I haven’t seen anything…”

“As I said, you aren’t seeing them yet. And until you do, you’re vulnerable. There are many slips and portals in this world, places for them to sift in and out. They know your smell, they have for years now. The more powerful you get, the older you get, the more . . . adult, womanly, you become, the more they’ll want to seek you out and take you.”

Demons have been fucking hunting me all this time and I never knew it? I hold up my hand, unable to comprehend any of this. “Wait, wait, wait. Perry was twenty-three when she really started to lose her . . . see ghosts. My grandmother, she—”

“You are not Perry,” Jay says quickly, his gaze hard, piercing right into me. “You are not Pippa. You are Ada Palomino and your story is completely different. You are completely different. You have a fight ahead of you, one that goes far beyond what you’ve seen in your dreams.”

Well, fucking shit. “Please tell me some good news,” I whisper to him, my nails digging into my palm. “Your bedside manner sucks.”

“I’m your good news.”

I glance at him. Of course he’s completely serious.

“Right,” I mutter. “Bound by supernatural duty.”

“And I am bound,” he says. “To watch and protect. To make you open your eyes. To teach you to fight back.”

I shake my head. I’m pushing everything he’s saying away. It’s much easier this way. “I’m starting school soon. I’m still struggling with what happened to my mother. I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of this. I’ll keep out of the closet. I’ll ignore my mother in my dreams. And I’ll keep being used to seeing the occasional ghost. But that’s it.”

I may not have loved my life at the moment but at least I knew what to expect from it. I knew to move on, I knew what to accept and get used to. No one asks to see ghosts but I was still managing it quite well in my day to day life. Everything Jay just said to me has no place in the life I’m supposed to have.

“Life isn’t fair, Ada,” he says, a rare hint of softness to his voice. “You know this. Sometimes we’re dealt a hand we never see coming. Sometimes there are only two choices. To live. Or die. And sometimes there is a third choice.” I glance at him. “To suffer in Hell for all eternity.”

“I’m not sure I want coffee anymore,” I mumble.

But within minutes we’re downtown, finding the perfect parking spot right in front of one of my favorite coffee shops. The same one my sister used to work at, Stumptown.

I peer at the shop as I get out of the car, happy to see it crowded and full of people. I need a caramel mocha with extra whip cream and syrup, stat, and I need it delivered by a barista who pronounces my name wrong (saying “Ad-a” instead of “Ay-da”), and I need to be surrounded by yuppies and hipsters and life as usual. I don’t even bother asking Jay how he knows I love it here.

We get in the shop and he offers to grab my coffee. I’m not sure what money he’s paying with, how and if Jacobs get paid at all, but I’m not arguing. My blogging revenue is low these days with my lack of posting and I’m more than happy to snag a seat.

As it happens, my favorite spot, a small booth by the window, is free. I’m wondering if all this good fortune is serendipitous or if it’s somehow connected to Jay. Because if he can arrange for no traffic and a great parking spot and my favorite seat, then surely he can arrange for me to not be stalked by demons. I would assume, anyway.

I watch him as he gets the coffee. He’s not one for small talk, even with the gorgeous and overly chatty barista that is giving him the eye and leaning over just enough so her cleavage is popping out over her apron. She obviously finds him as ridiculously handsome and stupidly manly as I do. He doesn’t look down though, doesn’t indulge her seduction attempts. Only smiles politely.

I suppose, being an emotionless immortal, he probably doesn’t care about those kind of human appetites. Then again, I had caught him staring at my ass. And I sometimes feel this heat behind his gaze, something instinctual rolling off of him. Granted that mainly happened in the dream and in my dreams my subconscious is as horny as anything.