Sins of the Demon (Kara Gillian 4)

A slight smile creased his mouth. “Depends. Are you going to call me a damn Yankee if I admit I was born in upstate New York?”

“Nothing so nice,” I replied with a small laugh.

He folded one leg over the other, resting his ankle across his knee. “I guess I’ll have to brave the insults then. Saratoga, New York. Went to high school at Saratoga Springs High then left for the bustle of the big city.”

“New York City?”

He grinned. “Cleveland.”

This time my laugh was genuine. “Oh, my. Culture shock!”

“In more ways than one.”

I tucked my feet underneath me. “What about your folks. Do they still live in Saratoga?” I knew what the answer would be. Or rather, I knew what he needed to tell me.

He shook his head, a shadow flickering across his face. “My mother passed away right before I started college. My dad about five years later.”

I made the appropriate sympathetic expression. He believed it. Surely nobody was that good an actor. “Any brothers or sisters?”

“Nope. I have some cousins I never see, but that’s about it.”

Hunh. I’d expected him to say that both his parents had been only children or some such thing. But maybe whatever caused him to have these fake memories also made him have no desire to seek out the rest of his mythical family.

His memories are fake. They have to be. Is his personality fake as well? Is this the real Ryan? If he ever remembers who he is, will this person go away? Will he still regard me in the same way?

I already knew the answer to that. There was no possible way he’d see me in the same light. Except…somehow he’d acted with the instincts and abilities of his former self when I was hurt and the golems were threatening. Were those instincts always running in the background? Or was that a one-time chink in the armor that held him? I could keep on grilling him about his past, but what was the point? I had zero doubt that if—no, when—I verified this info it would all check out. Whoever had taken the effort to insert this nuanced memory and background would have surely taken steps to make sure the paper trail jived as well.

Fuzzykins chose that moment to stalk into the room. She leaped nimbly onto the end of the couch and stared balefully at Ryan.

“When did you get a cat?” he asked. He reached out a hand to give the cat a scratch, then yanked it back as Fuzzykins snarled and swiped at it with a claws extended.

“It’s Eilahn’s.” I quickly explained the circumstances surrounding the acquisition of the cat. “Don’t feel bad. She hates me too. But she completely adores Eilahn.”

“That’s pretty funny,” he admitted. Then, “Are you summoning tonight?”

I blinked, surprised both at the abruptness of the question and that he would want to know at all. He didn’t like Rhyzkahl—okay, “hated” was probably a better word—and he didn’t usually want any reminder that I had any sort of contact or relationship with the demonic lord.

My surprise must have been evident because he gave a little shrug of apology. “It’s a full moon,” he said. “I figured it’d be tonight—unless you already did for this month?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. I was planning to tonight.” I eyed him, mentally bracing myself for his usual gritted-teeth tolerance that barely masked his dislike of the arrangement. I frowned when it didn’t come. “You seem oddly cool with this.”

He placed both feet on the floor and exhaled. “I did a lot of thinking while I was up at Quantico. I didn’t like some of the things I realized.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the fact that you’re one of my best friends, the fact that I care about you considerably, and the fact that you’re in a situation that I have no right to judge, and that I need to grow the fuck up and actually be supportive.” He gave me a wry smile. “I realized that it’s not enough for me to simply not be vocal about the fact that I hated what was going on, because you’re not stupid, and you can certainly tell I disapprove whether I say it or not. But instead, I needed to change my damn outlook and accept what is and look for the positive in it. In other words, I need to stop being so much of a dick. That was kind of the reason I didn’t call. I was trying to process everything.”

I had to smile. “In other words, you were a dick because you were thinking about how to stop being a dick.”

He chuckled. “Well, when you put it that way.…”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I appreciate it, no matter how it came about.”

He put his hands on his knees and gave a nod, seeming relieved. “Okay, well, I should get out of your hair then, but how about we catch up tomorrow—I can bring over pizza and some DVDs of shows that I’m sure you’ve never seen but I think you should.”

I groaned. “You’re still trying to make me a nerd, aren’t you?”

“No,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “I think there’s no hope of that. But it won’t stop me from trying.” He stood, and I followed suit. “So, tomorrow?”