Page 87 of Sorrow & Strangers

Alice exhales heavily. “Okay.” Her nose wrinkles. “You smell awful.”

I nod, knowing that I definitely smell like brimstone. “I got brimstone. A lot of it.”

Alice’s nose twitches again. “Explains the smell.” She frowns. “You were safe, though?”

I have no idea how to answer that question. Am I ever safe with the stranger? My gut says yes, but my head says absolutely fucking not. At least I’m safe from others when I am with him, and he did keep me safe in Hell, so I just nod.

Alice gives me a reproachful look. “I forgive you, then.”

“Is Rafe okay?”

“Yeah. He mainly slept.”

“Okay. That is good. I should go shower this smell off.”

Alice grabs my hand and leads me inside, but we both stumble to a stop when a large crash from upstairs rattles the windows. We stare at the ceiling for a long moment, and then I sigh. “I’ll go check on him.”

“I’ll make breakfast,” Alice says, heading for the kitchen.

As I reach the landing, there is the muffled sound of Rafe cursing, and then another much quieter crash. I peek my head into his room and blink when I find him on the floor, trying to do what looks like an extremely labored push-up.

He looks up at me, his dark eyes searching my face. “You’re back.”

I nod. “About five minutes ago.”

He shifts to sit back on his knees and sniffs. “You smell . . . odd.”

I roll my eyes. “Charming. I’m going to go shower, so try not to injure yourself in the next ten minutes.”

I turn to leave, but Rafe grabs my wrist. How did he get across the room? He moved so fast. Is this another new ability? “Wait. I know that scent.”

I tense, not looking at him, knowing I’m about to get an earful.

“Summer.” He waits until I finally glance at him over my shoulder. His hand is still wrapped around my wrist, and demon black is flooding his eyes. “Where were you?” he asks, the question more of an accusation.

“I was . . . somewhere.”

Rafe brings my arm to his nose and sniffs again, inky black spilling into the whites of his eyes, warning me that the demon is close to the surface. “Tell me where you were, Summer.”

I keep my gaze locked on his, and he steps closer, his movements fluid and predatory. “I had to, Rafe.”

He towers over me, staring down at me. “No, you did not.” He shakes his head. “Say it, or I won’t believe you.”

I look away. “Rafe . . .”

“Say it,” he growls, and the sound is more demonic than any I’ve heard from him before.

I swallow. “I went to Hell.”

There is a long moment of silence before Rafe finally breaks it. “Are you fucking kidding?” he snarls. “Why would you do that? Are you insane?”

I bristle defensively, staring him down. “No, I’m not insane.”

“What if Uncle Lu caught you? Or another demon?” It once again takes me by surprise that he calls the King of Hell something so . . . ordinary. He is Lucifer, the King of Hell, the Prince of Lies, and a million other monikers. But he is never Uncle Lu.

“I took precautions.”

“You still went,” he snarls loudly, and the malevolence of it pushes me back a step.