Public Square District
Cleveland, Ohio
3:45 a.m., Dec. 24
Finn watched Dana as she slid into her uncle’s limo beside him, taking note of every twitch of her muscles, every nuance of her tone as she gave her orders to the driver. He could practically hear her questions as they formed themselves in her head, but to her credit, she didn’t speak right away. They set off down the street, the expensive vehicle purring into the night. Dana watched the streetlamps pass by for one block, then two.
Then she turned to him.
“Seriously? You’re…” She slid a glance to the driver. “What Father Franks said you were?”
Finn weighed his options, wondering how to play this conversation. Dana was still trying to convince herself there were no demons in the world, or angels either. But at least by his count, she’d already been attacked three times by representatives of the demon horde. Ignorance was no longer bliss, it was sheer stupidity.
“I’m what he said I am, and that means I can kill what attacked us tonight. I can. You can’t. Because of what they are.”
“What they are,” she repeated, her eyes hardening.
“I know you don’t want to believe it. I don’t blame you. But that doesn’t make it untrue. And right now, Lester’s in danger. So are you.”
“And this Bartholomew? What’s his relevance?”
Finn shrugged, not wanting to scare her more than she already was. “I have no idea. Father Franks recalled him because he shares the same tattoo that I do. That’s it.”
“But you said—”
“You’ll find I say a lot of things when I need to. At the moment, I need to get to your uncle, and to do that, I had to get the priest on my side. I’m obviously not the only one interested in reaching Lester Morrow, but as to whether the guy behind tonight’s attack is the Bartholomew that the priest encountered or someone else, I don’t know.”
“Bullshit,” Dana retorted, catching him up short. “You’re both the same kind of whatever, and you’re both here. And so far tonight, you’ve shown up at a charity event, ingratiated yourself with a complete stranger, spent fifteen thousand dollars to make a statement, and foiled an attack by some seriously disturbed souls on the streets of Cleveland at three in the morning, then played hot potato with a gold crucifix and damn near made a priest cry. And you mean to tell me that a holy man who may or may not be possessed—but who is definitely deeply broken—and is also a known associate of both you and Father Franks doesn’t have anything to do with it?”
“Bartholomew is no known associate of mine,” Finn said, but even as he spoke the words, he hesitated. He didn’t at all recall the sin that had brought him to his demonic status. He didn’t remember anything at all about being Fallen. Had he known this Bartholomew? Did the rogue Fallen know something about what had caused Finn’s disgrace?
“What is it?” Dana demanded, and Finn blinked, surprised to see her staring at him. Humans weren’t supposed to be able to see anything a demon didn’t want them to see, including their changing expressions, and Finn was currently a Fallen. He should have more protection against the curiosity of mortals, not less.
“Nothing,” he said. When she made a face, he felt compelled to continue. “Okay, something. I don’t know anyone by the name of Bartholomew, I don’t know this man or what he’s done, or if he’s interested in your uncle’s document. But yes, I will grant you, it’s as reasonable a theory as any that he might be involved. And if that’s the case, you must be even more careful. Because if he is the agent behind these attacks you’ve experienced—”
“Attacks?” she asked sharply. “There’s only been one. Tonight’s.”
Now it was his turn to watch her with skeptical eyes, and Dana scowled at him. “You have no way of knowing about anything else. Unless you were behind them.”
“I wasn’t behind them,” he said. “But I know that you were attacked two months ago, I know that you were attacked three nights ago as well. I’m almost certain that the first attack was connected, and I can tell you for sure that the second one definitely was.”
“What do you know about what happened in Canada?” Dana winced as she spoke, lifting a hand to her brow. “Damn, that hurts,” she muttered.
Finn hesitated, then lifted a hand as well. It might help, he reasoned, if she knew a little more. She might count him more as a friend.
Never mind that he suddenly wanted her to count him as a friend. It wasn’t his place. This fierce, lost, driven woman had a life and a purpose in this world, while he would be gone in less than twenty hours. But for this barest moment in time, he didn’t so much care.
With one gesture, a haze dropped between the seats, separating them from their driver. To the man in the front seat, they would appear to be staring out the window, no longer talking. It was the easiest of illusions, and it was one he knew Dana would instinctually appreciate—if she could have noticed it.
Which, insanely, she did.
“Oh, so now you drop the cloaking device?” Her eyes were bright, alert, and she reached out, touching the air. Nothing was there, of course. Nothing visible to ordinary humans, anyway. “Couldn’t we have started this conversation that way? All of Lester’s goons have recording devices.”
“It’s not just a soundproof barrier. It’s visual as well.”
Her brows shot up. “Really? How?”
Despite himself, Finn smiled. “Really. And how doesn’t matter. You’re safe, Dana,” Finn said. “No one can see you, so let me do this. Let me help.”
Without waiting for her to respond, he reached out both hands to brush Dana’s hair with his fingers, pressing lightly against her temples. She froze beneath his touch as he took the pain away from her, her eyes wide as she stared at him. In that glance, there was fear, worry, even a little anger. But there was also…hope. And it was the hope that tore at Finn, made his own breath ragged in his throat. Hope was an emotion he had never understood.
What was it that Dana truly believed he could give her? Whatever it was, she was bound to be disappointed. But not…not yet, he decided. Not yet.
“It was me,” Finn said quietly, holding her gaze as her dark eyes flared. “I was there three nights ago, when you were attacked by the wolves. I fought them off, got them to scatter. Stayed until I knew they were gone.”
“But—how?” she managed. “You were following me?”
“I was following you,” Finn said. Or the archangel was, more to the point. Which meant that Michael knew a lot more than he was letting on. Did he also know what this list was? He certainly wanted it badly enough. But why the cloak and dagger? Finn and the Syx were bound to the archangel’s service. It wasn’t as if there was any reason for subterfuge.
He shook off his uneasiness. Dana was staring at him, waiting for him to continue. “At that point, my goal was merely to keep you safe, not to approach you.”
“What changed?” she asked, and he looked into her eyes, for a moment forgetting anything but how close she was to him, how real, how vital.
“You did.” The words were out before Finn could stop himself, and he flushed, the unexpected surge of emotion warming him in a way that even Sara Wilde’s healing energy hadn’t been able to. He could see Dana’s lips part, sense her instinctive twitch away from him, but he pushed on. He had only this second, this moment. Life was so fragile and fast moving, in a blink, Dana’s life would end, her soul would pass, and he’d have missed his chance. To say…to say…
“I don’t understand,” Dana whispered, but her eyes were on his, dark and intense—and a little desperate. “Help me understand, Finn.”
The car stopped abruptly at a light, a chirping from the front shattering the moment. “Your uncle, Ms. Griffin,” the driver said, his polite voice splitting the veil Finn had raised, their temporary isolation already gone. “He wants you to know everything is ready for your guest.”
Dana flushed and straightened. “Of course,” she said, once more all business. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Shoving away a gnawing ache that he could neither define nor fully admit to himself, Finn turned and stared at the bright lights of the frozen city.