“I’m so sorry,” she began, half-jogging to where Saint and Voke were sitting.
Her steps faltered for the quickest second, and Saint could swear on his life that just like her daughter, she could see Knight, too, but when he blinked, her gaze seemed to pass right through the demon to her daughter and Saint sitting on the curb.
“Mummy!” Voke cried, rushing to her.
Mrs. Efezino eagerly scooped her child up, her exhaustion quickly replaced with a bright smile.
“Hello, my darling. Are you all right? I’m so sorry I’m late.”
“It’s okay, mummy. I passed level five hundred on Candy Crush!”
“Did you, now? Congratulations! Perhaps we can get some ice-cream to celebrate?”
“Yes! Thank you, mummy!” She smashed a wet kiss against her mother’s cheek. Then she grabbed her neck with all the finesse of a six-year-old, nearly making her mother topple over. “Mummy,” she whispered, except, just like her finesse, it was the whisper of a child, so not a whisper at all, “can you see that man over there?”
“Hm?” Mrs. Efezino looked around. “You mean Mr. Saint?” It could be a trick of Saint’s eyes, but she seemed to be deliberately avoiding looking at where Knight was still squatting.
“No.” Voke giggled. “The other man!”
“Hm. No, I can’t see anyone else, honey. I’m sorry. Come on, we need to get home, yeah? I’m sure you want to get out of your uniform.” She turned to Saint, smiling sheepishly. “I can’t thank you enough. I am so sorry. I know you must have a life, things to do—”
“It’s fine,” Saint interrupted. “Ipromiseit’s fine. I really, honestly don’t mind.”
“Still ...” Mrs. Efezino adjusted her hold on her daughter, placing her on her left hip, then began fumbling with the purse slung over her right shoulder.
“No, please, you don’t have to—”
“Nonsense.” She fished out a bundle of notes from her purse, not even bothering to count. “Please, please take it. Please.”
Saint wasn’t in a position to say no. “All right. Thank you, ma.”
“You’re welcome. See you on Monday! Have a nice weekend. Say goodbye to Mr. Saint, darling.”
“Bye-bye,” Voke said with a little wave. When her mother turned away, heading to her car, the little girl muffled a giggle as she secretly waved at Knight from over her shoulder.
Knight grinned and gave her a little wave back. Saint refused to be endeared at the way Knight was so utterly charmed.
Saint watched them drive off. Knight got to his feet just as the human spun to face him, his anger radiating off him like something dark and decadent.
“What the fuck was that?” he hissed. “I told you to keep a low profile!”
“I didn’t do that on purpose,” Knight said placatingly. “But I think I might have an explanation.”
Saint crossed his arms. “Go on.” Fuck, he was so sexy. Seeing him like this, so defiant, instinctively made Knight think of their dreams. Of how much he enjoyed melting that defiance away until Saint was nothing but a whimpering, sobbing mess.
Knight cleared his throat. “Right. So. In Hell, I’m what other demons call a nicquiri. I can see through the Veil, the thin sort of “blanket” that hides the mortal realm from Hell and its inhabitants and vice versa. Nicquiris can see through the Veil, travel through it, manipulate it—what you’d call using magic—or straddle it, which is how I’m able to visit you in your dreams.”
“Oh.” Though he was still frowning.
“I’m assuming, in the human world, there will be human equivalents of that?” Knight prompted.
“Oh.” Saint’s mouth opened and closed. “You mean ... like ... like a witch or something?”
“If that’s what you call them.” Knight shrugged.
Saint shook his head. “On earth, especially in such a superstitious place like Nigeria, the ability to see demons isnota good thing.” He seemed to be talking to himself.
“It’s not exactly a blessing in Hell, either.”
