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A desperate, empty threat and I expected the demon to laugh. But her smile froze.
"Do you know who I am?" I said, pulling myself up straight. "Sav--"
"Savannah Levine. Daughter of Eve."
"And granddaughter of lord demon Balaam."
It should have meant nothing. Demons took little interest in their children, none in their grandchildren. But she let out a low hiss, drew back the syringe, and looked away. No, didn't just look away. Dropped her gaze from mine.
When she spoke, her voice was almost a whine. "He was warned. This necromancer, he was warned. Speak of what he knew and his wife would not wake." She snarled at Maura Schmidt's body. "You were warned."
"I'm sorry," Schmidt whispered, words tumbling out. "A mistake. A moment of weakness. I'll tell them--"
"No more." The demon released her grip on Adam and advanced on Schmidt. "Speak another word and she dies. If not by my hand, then by another. We warned you."
"Yes, yes. I'll--"
"Not another word!" the demon boomed.
Adam leapt forward and knocked her legs out from under her. As she crashed to the floor, I rushed in. Adam pinned her easily. Too easily. When I grabbed her hair and yanked her head back, her eyes were closed, face slack. The demon had fled.
We tried to coax Schmidt back, but not for long. He was gone and there was an unconscious nurse on the floor, with third-degree burns on her arm. We got out of there as fast as we could.
We'd checked out of the hotel before we left, so I wasn't surprised when we got into the car and Adam said, "See how fast you can get us a flight to Miami. If we have time to grab lunch, we passed a place on the way over. Otherwise, we'll eat at the airport."
I didn't answer. Didn't take out my phone either.
"Savannah . . ."
"Shouldn't we investigate this?"
"Investigate what? Schmidt didn't give us anything . . . except confirmation that you've got something much worse than a witch-hunter on your tail. Which is all the more reason to get you to Miami."
"Right."
I still didn't take out my phone. His gaze shunted my way and his hands gripped the steering wheel. The faint smell of scorched vinyl wafted up.
"We had a deal," he said, his voice low. "Just one more lead, and we'd be in Miami by sundown."
"It's not sundown yet."
I meant it as a joke, but he braked so fast I slammed against the seat belt. The car behind us blasted its horn. Adam ignored it, pulling onto the shoulder, then opening the driver's door.
"Take the car," he said. "I'll meet you in Miami, whenever you ever get there."
"Don't." I leaned over and caught the back of his shirt. "I'm sorry. You're right. We're going to Miami. I'll get tickets."
He hesitated. I'd pushed too hard. Back off now or he'd leave, and that was worse than anything I'd face in Miami.
I looked up the flight information while he stood outside the car. "We can get a connecting flight in just over an hour or a direct one in almost three. They get in at the same time."
He hesitated a moment longer, then climbed back in. I expected him to say "The connecting one" just so he could get my ass on a plane faster, but he said, "Direct. We'll grab lunch first."
I was in the midst of reserving our tickets when my phone rang. The ring tone was "People Are Strange," meaning it was someone not in my address book. I checked the number.
"It's Roni," I said. "Should I ignore it?"
Adam took a deep breath, then exhaled. "No."
