Page 126 of Demon Touched

“So you and he⁠—”

“Yep,” I reply, popping the p.

She exhales, rubbing a hand across her head. “I can’t believe I was pushing you at Rowan Gradis. Now I see that he’s definitely not your type.”

“Rowan was fine…” I say, not wanting to think too much about the ephilium man whose family must be in turmoil right now.

She waves away the comment. “Never mind about that. Did it work?” she asks. “Breaking the spell, I mean.”

I focus and pull my wings out of the space between light, unvanishing them. “Unfortunately, no. These are still black. On the plus side, I can hide them if I want. It’s a demon thing.”

She looks at the dark feathers like she’s seeing them for the first time.

“So…are you going to hate me now, for having demon friends?” I ask quietly.

She pulls her sleeves down over her hands in a nervous tic, and I notice now that the shirt she’s wearing—made of plain, soft fabric—is far too big for her. It must be one of Hodges’s.

“I’ve never thought very highly of the war,” she says. “It always seemed like a waste of resources to me. And it didn’t seem like Infernum was doing anything terrible to us that we weren’t doing to them. Even if one of them tried to kill me, it’s not like I spent my time on the battlefield picking daisies, either. It was kill or be killed, and our side is as much to blame for that as theirs.” Her hand goes to her stomach again as she shrugs. “So no, I don’t really hate demons, and I definitely don’t hate you.”

I grin in relief, relaxing a little more. “Do you hate Hodges yet? Honestly, I’m impressed you guys have managed to survive in such close quarters these past two weeks without killing each other.”

“I mean, he has really weird taste in breakfast foods, and he snores like a drunk pig, but otherwise he’s not so bad.” A smile briefly lights up her whole face before quickly disappearing again. “Anyway, it’s not like I’m a dog he never lets out of the house.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What about…” Now it’s my turn to gesture to her wings.

“Oh, he made me a thing.” She rises to go into the bedroom and emerges with something made of soft brown leather—a series of straps and buckles forming a harness.

“It helps strap my wings down so I can wear a cloak, and it doesn’t look bulky. It’s a little uncomfortable, but it’s worth it to be able to go out and not be noticed. Hodges said it wasn’t fair to keep me cooped up for weeks on end. And he’s making adjustments, says he thinks he can get it so it doesn’t cut into my carpal so much.”

“Nice of him,” I say, echoing the words and tone she used a few minutes ago about Syrus. I have a theory brewing, which takes a little more shape when Filippa’s complexion darkens ever so slightly.

“Yes, well, he’s very handy,” she says, and I laugh.

“What?” she demands.

“Nothing. He’s great. It’s why I picked him as a scavenging partner.”

She nods. “He told me about that. We talked a lot about you, actually.”

I groan. “So he’s given you all the dirt, has he?”

“Nothing too bad. Although we did get into an argument when he insisted⁠—”

Heavy steps on the stairs cut her short as the door handle turns and Hodges’s voice floats into the room.

“Hey, Pip, I got those pastries you like. The ones with the—Polaris!”

He stops short when he sees me, tucking the bakery box under one arm and looking a mix of pleased and sheepish.

“Hi, Hodges,” I say, grinning. “I was just checking in with Pip here.”

Filippa clears her throat in a way that tells me I’m definitely not allowed to call her that.

Hodges just smiles and shakes his head, putting the bakery box down and pulling me into a hug when I stand up to greet him properly.

“Good to see you again. Pip’s filled me in on the mess back in Aradis. Are you in trouble? Is that why you’re back in Strata?”

“Yes, kind of. It’s complicated.” I shrug.