Page 4 of Sacrifice
“Any sign of movement?”
Jesper shook his head. Droplets of rain cascaded from his hair to shower Michaels’ face. “Not a glimmer.”
“You know you don’t have to watch him. He won’t surface for hours after a rendering.”
The DC shrugged and turned his golden eyes towards his boss. “It’s my job. The Reaver must be watched at all times.”
Jesper had been with Michaels for years. The argument was always the same. His training was so ingrained that it was impossible to break. He was a watcher, one trained to follow the demon reaver wherever he roamed.
“How is the woman?” Jesper asked, throwing the remains of his meal into a nearby bush and rubbing the crumbs from his chin.
Michaels took a deep breath and his eyes glittered. “Still sleeping. I’ll visit her later to check the memory has been completely redacted.”
“Don’t trust me?” Jesper sniffed and turned away.
“You know I do. I just need to be sure. There was something unsettling. Her aura was off color.”
Jesper ran his hands through his damp, wet hair, and for a moment his glamour shifted to briefly reveal neat, short horns. “I know what you mean. I think she might beEl-Fendi.”
Michaels nodded. He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. Atouchedhuman that could sense their magic would complicate things.
Jesper looked back towards the penthouse apartment. “Or he’s been playing with her. How long was she alone with him?”
“Long enough.”
Three
It wassunlight stabbing through the gap in her bedroom curtains that prodded Eve from sleep. She squinted at it and winced.
Jesus. Why didn’t I close those properly?
Eve’s head throbbed like a bastard. An east-facing bedroom was a bitch when it came to the morning after the night before.
What the hell happened?
She fumbled a discarded jumper up from the floor and dropped it over her face to block out the light and groaned. A headache like this hadn’t been seen since the ill-advised New Years of peach schnapps. Her stomach didn’t feel too bad, though. That was weird.
What had she done to earn this head? She rewound it to the last thing she could remember. Work.
OK, so there’d been a pretty average day under the Gestapo management of Gilbert in the museum gift shop. The new girl hadn’t shown up, and Eve had been persuaded to cover the 2-6pm shift as well – despite the sixteen hours of overtime she was already owed.
She huffed mentally.
One day, Gilbert would appreciate her. He might not yet, but one day he was going to see what a gem he had in his employ. She was worth more than that part-time contract and needed better money if she was ever going to get her own place.
The doorbell rang downstairs, and its singsong chime stabbed pain right through her eye into the back of her head. She rolled to one side moaning and pulled the jumper tight over her face. Her mother’s voice and another that was unfamiliar rumbled low in the hallway.
A minute later, her bedroom door cracked open.
“Eve, sweetheart, are you awake?” Her mum spoke softly through the gap.
Eve groaned.
“There are some policemen here.” Her voice rose in a squeak. “They want to speak to you.”
Eve peeled the jumper from her face to squint at her mother. “Policemen?”
“Come down. Can you come down?”
