Page 149 of Demon Touched

I mean…on his table. I’m definitely not thinking about Hodges’s lap now.

But anyway, it’s been a matter of weeks since we met. That should be too little time to feel so close to someone. But most people also don’t meet under such intense circumstances. We were thrown together by forced proximity and by me needing Hodges to survive in those early days. You get comfortable with someone fast when you need their help changing dressings and getting out of bed.

Because yes, Hodges gave me his bed and has spent weeks sleeping on the floor without complaint. Every night, we’ve been side by side, if on different levels, and if my hand sometimes hangs off the edge of the bed and brushes his in the dark…and he doesn’t pull away but reaches his fingers up to twine with mine…then that’s between us.

It’s just been us two, in our own little world, unobserved and unjudged—aside from his mother, who seemed very comfortable turning a blind eye once Hodges explained my situation. But our solitude up to now means I’ve not needed to get good at hiding what his crooked smile and stupid jokes do to me.

What he means to me.

“I still can’t believe they just handed over the keys to you,” I say, trying to distract us both from the subject of Hodges.

“Me neither. I mean, they made me sign a few things, but that’s all it took. It’s all mine now, apparently.” She climbs the steps to the front door. “Thanks for coming with me. I didn’t want to do this alone, but if I’d asked Syrus, we probably would’ve just gotten into another argument.”

I nod like it’s nothing. Personally, I would be terrified at the idea of arguing with the demon lord, but Leah told me all the details yesterday, and it sounds like their disagreement was surprisingly domestic. He wants to go back to Infernum; she wants to stay here. They’re both so insecure about their relationship that they’re afraid what that contradiction means for them.

I suppose a demon and a nephilim together was never going to be simple. Definitely more complicated than an ephilium and a human. That’s the whole reason nephilim exist right? It wouldn’t be, like, crazy for a couple like that…

Filippa, says a scolding voice at the back of my mind, you’re not going to make this about you.

Leah is unlocking the door now, revealing a long, dark hallway that feels—quite frankly—pretty creepy. It doesn’t help that the house shows signs of not being lived in for months, with dust on the windows and the scent of stale air lingering in the entrance hall. As we step inside, my gut twists, and I keep my eyes open, studying every detail.

“Does it feel like someone’s…”

“Been here?” Leah says, knowing what I’m getting at. “Yes. Someone must’ve been, because Hathwell’s body was found in the river,” she levels me with a serious stare. “And that’s not where I left him.”

“Right,” I exhale. She’s explained about Hathwell being involved with the Order of Sycorax, a group of crazed humans who’ve tried to kill her multiple times. She also implied last night that she’d taken care of her husband when he attacked her—she didn’t say it was in this house, however.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” I say eventually. As I’d hoped, a little of the tension drops from her shoulders, and she gives me a weak smile.

“As long as you don’t try to sacrifice me as part of some fucked-up blood ritual, I think you’ll be okay.”

Neither of us says anything else as we move deeper into the residence, falling into the hush of the building. The silence remains unbroken until Leah makes a beeline for a specific room on the first floor, opening the door to an office.

“Hathwell didn’t want me coming in here,” she says as she shoves a desk aside. “I know now it was because he was hiding order stuff…down there.” She pushes up the corner of a rug to reveal a trap door. Then Leah just stands there for a while, looking at it.

“Er, Leah, why are we really here?” I ask. She’d said it was so she could look around the house she now owns, but something else is obviously preoccupying her.

She chews her lip. “I thought maybe there’d be some clues here. Now that we know the Order is after me, there’s got to be some evidence of that lurking around here, right? Maybe we can find something that shows us what they’re up to?”

“Makes sense,” I say. “Although you could’ve just led with that when you suggested we come here.”

She smiles sheepishly. “I thought it would be easier to convince you to join me for a casual house tour.”

“Are you kidding?” I say, moving around the desk. “As if that’s more interesting than hunting down proof of a black magic cult?”

“You’re right, I should’ve known better.”

“Let’s start down there,” I say, pointing to the trap door.

Seeing the sacrificial chamber makes Leah’s story about her wedding night feel dreadfully, sickeningly real. But it’s mostly a bare stone room now, with very few places to hide away any sorcerers’ secrets.

“They’d cleaned it up last time I was here,” Leah says, eyeing the room. She’s acting normal enough, but there’s an edge to her voice that tells me being down here brings back too many memories.

“They, as in the sorcerers?”

“Who else?” She shrugs. “They obviously came back to move Hathwell’s body too.”

“So they’re used to working as a group,” I say, turning the fact over in my mind. “One human would struggle to move a body alone, and I’m assuming it wasn’t a simple clean-up job after the…um…sacrifice ritual, either?”