“It’s been too long a day for a yelling match,” I reminded them.
Nico and December at least had the courtesy to look a little ashamed of their back-and-forth.
“I’m spamming this Daylan guy,” Nico explained. “Dawn didn’t get an answer.”
“You really think if he doesn’t pick up the call from the person he knows, then he’ll pick up for someone he doesn’t?” December asked.
“No,” Nico said coldly. “But that doesn’t matter. The plan to wear him down.”
December looked at me, eyes squinted with irritation as she gestured toward Nico.
“He’s right,” I said and held out my hand to Nico, requesting the phone so I could put in another call.
“You two are going to make sure the man won’t—” December stopped short when the call picked up. All our eyes went wide. I flinched at the vibration of a gruff voice on the other end.
“Look,” he said. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but if you don’t stop calling me, you’ll live to regret it.”
December threw me a,see what I told you?
“Hi, Daylan,” I said quickly. “This is Rae Jones. My sister Dawn gave us your contact information.”
“I don’t care if you’re the archangel Gabriel with news from God,” he spat. “My phone’s not a hotline.”
“I’m sorry about waking you?—”
“Are you? Because sorry people don’t continue to do things they regret. Are you an asshole or dense? I don’t do business with either.”
I covered the mic for a second, pressing the edge of the phone to my forehead to regain my composure. I needed to be able to do the one thing I was good at, and talk. Convince someone I was worth listening to. “We need your help.”
“I figured from the obsessive redials.”
“It’s about a demon.”
“I figured on account of I’m a limited edition,” he grumbled.
Nico snorted, a bit amused, a bit pissed.
“It’s important,” I promised.
“It always is.” Daylan’s voice was monotone and uninterested. “But I’ll tell you what I tell everyone else: I don’t care. I’m inactive. I’m exhausted. And I’m seeing things. I’m no use to you.”
“That’s the furthest thing from the truth, I promise.” I slipped into the kitchenette booth. Reheated microwave meals littered the table, no doubt December’s attempt to fuel us through the night. The food remained untouched, its burned smell lingering in the RV’s heavy air.
“Daylan, we’re freelancers with no connection to the Guild other than my sisters. The job we have involves a rancher who’s lost her parents and is about to lose her home. The demon latched on to either the land or her, and all I know about demons is a bunch of maybes.”
“Thenmaybeyou should hightail it out of there and tell your rancher to do the same.”
“And leave whoever comes next to deal with it? That’s not what we do.”
“It’s never too late to restructure your approach to things. You said you weren’t part of the Guild anymore,right? With all the freedom you have, why are you still limiting yourself to their rules?”
My jaw tensed. Nico huffed out a humorless laugh, turning away for a second to keep from saying something we’d all regret.
One of the main tenets the Guild drilled into us was that no matter what happened, we saw the job through to the very end, even if that meant death.
That rule remained with me, and I’d abide by it until I stopped hunting or died—whichever came first.
“I’m just asking for a rundown. Crash course on demonology. A clue where to look next. Prey preference? Common haunting tactics? Favorite goddamn colors? Anything.”
