“Measures?”
He reached into his back pocket and laid on the table a tin box that he never left home without. He had a few more tucked in all the other places he might need a quick fix, such as at home and in his truck. “Morphine. It seems to keep the bitch chilled without affecting me too much.”
“Oh. Yes, morphine. It is a commodity in Daemonia. Smuggled in illegally from the mortal realm.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I knew that. That’s how I figured it might be something I could use to control her.” He tucked away the tin box. “Since my return, I’ve been able to see and feel a demon’s presence. In my very bones, you know?”
She swallowed and nodded again, strangely telling in her silence.
“And for some reason,” Savin continued, “I can invoke demonic rituals and languages to send them back to where they came from. It’s been an innate skill after my return. So after Malcolm trained me, I figured I hadn’t much choice but to become a reckoner. Wasn’t as if I had a vibrant social life or dreams and goals of becoming a corporate raider or even a chef or fireman. I’m just weird Savin Thorne who sees demons and feels them all around. I’ve learned to work with it.”
“You don’t seem so weird to me. Rather handsome, too.” She lowered her gaze, but her voice took on a confident tone. “You’ve grown up since I last saw you.”
“So have you.” He felt something close to a blush heat his neck. Savin quickly rubbed at his beard to hide his sudden nerves. Not that he didn’t enjoy flirting with a beautiful woman. He just...was surprised by his sudden and easy interest in Jett’s sensual appeal.
“So you can see demons in the mortal realm? All of them?”
“Not all. Most. And it’s not so much that I can see them—some I can—as that they give off a vibration that I can sense when they are close. But some are clever and wear a sheen expertly. You know about that stuff, yes?”
Another silent nod.
“Right. Probably hard not to get educated on the demonic realm when stuck in that place. Listen, Jett, I know you probably want to avoid questions about Daemonia, but can I ask one thing?”
“Of course you can.”
“Were you treated well?”
She straightened her neck and slid her palms along each chair arm. It was almost as if she had realized she was safe now and could be the woman she was. A regal confidence bloomed in her eyes. “Well enough. I survived. And I am in one piece. And now I’m here. That is what matters, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
Yet her confident front did not hide the fact that she was frightened. Savin could feel the fear coming off her.
The waitress stopped by and set the roasted potatoes, sprinkled with rosemary, before him. Jett decided on tea and he didn’t push her to order more.
His cell phone rang and, seeing it was Ed, he told Jett he needed to take the call. “Yeah, Ed, what’s up?”
“We managed to wrangle a dozen demons after leaving the site last night. I’ve got them contained here at the office in the basement holding cell. Would you be able to swing by and reckon them?”
He glanced across the table. Jett was poking about in one of her shopping bags, the tissue paper crinkling. “Sure. Give me a couple hours and I’ll head over.”
“Great. I’ll give you more details then.”
“The cellular phone has advanced measurably in my absence,” Jett commented as he tucked away his phone. “I remember them being large and—what were they—flip phones?”
“They get smaller and sleeker every year. And the cameras on them are amazing. I’ve even got a demon tracking app.”
“What’s an app?”
“It’s a...” Savin chuckled. “A program designed to do something specific and usually make life easier. Though I’m not much for selfies.”
“What’s a selfie?”
“Something I think you would be excellent at.” He winked, and her lift of chin preceded a slight curve of her mouth. Yes, she would put all the selfie queens to shame with her natural beauty. “I’ll give you the tech talk later,” he said. “You won’t need to learn much to get up to speed. Except that swiping right can get you in more trouble than you are prepared to confront.”
And that was all he was willing to divulge regarding his failed Tinder experiment.
“I have no idea what you just said, but I think I’ll be fine without a phone for now. Getting up to speed on existing in this realm is going to take some time. You have somewhere you need to be?”
“Yes, that was Edamite Thrash. He’s a corax demon. Good guy. I’d never reckon him. He keeps an eye on the demons in Paris and isn’t afraid to move in when one steps out of line. Sort of the demon police patrol over Paris.”
“Edamite Thrash.” She seemed to make note of the name.
“I have some business across the river with Ed.”
“Reckoning?”
Savin nodded. “I won’t invite you along. I suspect you’ll want to keep yourself as far from anything having to do with demons as you can.”
“Sounds like a dream. But is it possible in this city?”
He felt awful that her dream was so dismal. “It is. Demons are populous in Paris, but the smart ones tend to mind their manners. I’ll walk you back to the flat and then make it a quick job.”
“I can find my way back on my own.”
“I do need to get my truck.” He wolfed down some potatoes and finished his coffee. Seeing Jett’s longing look at some passing tourists, he offered, “Unless you want to walk by yourself for a while? I don’t want to be too forward.”
She gave him that silent nod again. Somehow submissive, which bothered him.
He tugged out his wallet and laid a couple twenty-euro notes before her. “You take that and go off walking by yourself. Buy what you want. If your appetite comes back, you’ll be covered. Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll leave the door to my place unlocked. Don’t let the demon wards freak you out. Sometimes they tug when you enter.”
“Didn’t even notice them last night,” she offered airily.
“They’re not all-purpose, but they’ve served me well. I’ll loosen them up for you anyway.” Because she probably still had residue from Daemonia on her. “And feel free to tuck your new purchases into a drawer. Make yourself at home, Jett. My place is your place until you feel like you need to get the hell out. Deal?”
“Deal.”
He signed the check, then stood, and thinking he should shake her hand or something, he decided that was stupid. And would she get the friendly double-cheek-kiss thing? It wasn’t something he ever did—why was he fretting about this?
Abandoning his ridiculous thoughts, he tossed out a “See you later?”
“I look forward to it.”
So did he. Because those beautiful, sad brown eyes made him hungry for things other than food. A man shouldn’t have such thoughts for a woman he hardly knew. And yet he did know her. The nine-year-old Jett. The intrepid, laughing best friend he’d promised to someday marry. Seemed like a long shot now. She was different. Could she get back to the usual? Did she want to? What had she been through?
He wanted to help her. He really did. And he needed to protect