The Beautiful Ashes. Jeaniene Frost

demons or the mysterious weapon—Adrian refused to talk about those—but about him. Like, for example, his pathological hatred of mirrors.

      Every time we stopped to refuel, Adrian would smash the mirror in the ladies’ room before he let me inside to pee. I was convinced he’d be arrested, but I soon found out another fact: no one but me could see what Adrian really looked like.

      “He’s five-eight, skinny, with black hair,” the gas station attendant snapped into his phone, his Spanish accent thickening as he yelled, “Pendajo!” at Adrian for destroying his bathroom mirror. “And he’s driving...a mi Dios!”

      That last part was screamed when Adrian moved with his incredible speed, yanking away the shotgun the attendant had pulled out. Then he broke it over his knee and handed the two pieces back with a growled, “Have a nice day.”

      “Diablo,” the attendant moaned, sinking behind his counter.

      I didn’t think Adrian was a devil, but I still didn’t know what he was. The fastest way to get the silent treatment from him was to ask again what “line” he was from. He did explain that Archon glamour masked his appearance, so he wouldn’t be recognized by minions. Now I knew why Detective Kroger’s first punch had hit Adrian in the shoulder. He thought he’d been striking a much shorter opponent. That was also why Adrian had demanded that I describe him soon after we met.

      “You could see through demon glamour,” he’d explained, throwing me one of those hooded looks. “Minions can do that, too, but only humans from one of our lines can see through Archon glamour, so I needed to find out what you were.”

      “What if I’d failed to describe you accurately?” I’d asked.

      A shrug. “Then you’d have been a minion, and I’d have killed you.”

      Between that admission, the compulsive mirror smashing and his impenetrable secretiveness, I was well on my way to getting over my attraction. Adrian wasn’t just damaged goods, he was deranged goods, and coming from someone with a history of psychosis, that was saying something. By the time we pulled into a motel at the halfway point of Kearney, Nebraska, I would’ve been happy never to see him again.

      I called shotgun on the bathroom as soon as we entered the hotel room. Adrian obliged after smashing the mirror—he had to have ten thousand years of bad luck by now—then finally, I was able to take a shower. Thank God the motel had complimentary bottles of shampoo and conditioner because I wasn’t about to ask Adrian for any. For all I knew, the bulky duffel bag he’d brought in was filled with severed minion heads.

      After I showered, I washed my clothes, making a mental note to insist that we shop before hitting the road tomorrow. With everything I owned now hanging to dry, I donned Adrian’s coat over my towel before leaving the bathroom.

      He stood in front of the motel door, flicking something from a glass vial onto it. He did the same with the window, all while muttering in that strange, harshly lyrical language.

      He probably wouldn’t tell me, but I asked anyway. “What are you doing?”

      “Setting supernatural locks,” he replied, with a jaded glance at me. “This motel isn’t on hallowed ground, so we have to demon-proof this room. I don’t think we were followed, but I’d rather you weren’t murdered in your sleep.”

      I swallowed. I’d rather that not happen, too. “So, that stuff you’re sprinkling around is like demon-mace?”

      His mouth twitched, making me wonder if he fought back a smile. “Close. Know how a priest blesses water and then it’s considered holy? This is the Archon version of blessed oil, which briefly renders any place it touches as hallowed.”

      “How brief is ‘briefly’?” I wondered.

      A shrug. “Long enough for us to sleep.”

      “If it hallows out any place, then why did we spend last night in a spider-infested crypt?” I asked at once.

      Now I was sure he was fighting back a smile. “You looked like you slept there just fine to me.” At my instant glower, he added, “I can only get this stuff from Zach, and he’s stingy with handing it out. This is the last I’ve got, so after tonight, we’ll need to sleep on real hallowed ground until he decides to show up and give me more.”

      A stingy angel. Now I’d heard of everything. Guess I’d better enjoy the real bed tonight. Who knew what I’d be cuddling up next to tomorrow. Speaking of that, I needed to handle some things before I went off the grid any longer.

      “You have a phone I can use? I need to call my roommate, Delia. Tell her I’ll be gone for...a while.”

      Adrian’s expression changed from suppressed amusement to stern refusal. “Not a chance. No calls, texts or emails.”

      Who did he think he was, my new father? “Let me rephrase—I’m calling my roommate, either with your phone or with someone else’s.”

      I couldn’t just disappear on Delia. I, of all people, knew how awful it was to wonder if someone you cared about was alive or dead, and she wasn’t just my roommate. After Jasmine, Delia was my best friend.

      “You call her or anyone else you know, you’re making them a target,” Adrian replied coolly. “Not many people escape a demonic kidnapping attempt. The ones that do are usually helped by me, so that makes the demons extra mad. By now, minions have combed through every aspect of your life, and they’re waiting for you to connect to someone so they can use that person against you.”

      Nothing changed in the room, but it suddenly felt smaller, as if the walls were edging toward each other.

      “What’s the point? They already have my sister,” I said, anger and despair sharpening my tone.

      Adrian leveled that gemstone stare at me. “Right, so don’t give them anyone else.”

      I sat down on what I guessed was my bed, since Adrian’s duffel bag was on the other. The zipper was open, revealing nothing more sinister than clothes and toiletries. And here I’d been so sure about the severed minion heads. I did give the toothbrush a longing look. This motel didn’t have those as freebies, and my breath could probably slay a dragon.

      “Help yourself,” Adrian stated, nodding at the bag. “Zach packed supplies for both of us.”

      He didn’t need to tell me twice. I went to his bed and began to rummage through the bag. Thanks to his large build, it wasn’t hard to distinguish what was meant for Adrian and what was intended for me. The only surprise was that Zach had guessed my size, even on the intimate items.

      “What kind of angel notices cup size?” I muttered under my breath as I added a bra to my pile.

      Adrian’s bark of laughter let me know that I’d said it too loud. “Zach is nothing if not detail-oriented.”

      “You sound like you’ve known him a long time,” I observed.

      His face closed off in a now familiar way. I could let it go, like I had most of the drive here, but I was getting tired of his frequent bouts of silent treatment.

      “I get that you don’t want to be here and you really don’t want to talk about whatever it is that you are, but if we’re going to be fighting demons together, I should at least know more about you.”

      Adrian walked toward me, a hard little smile twisting his features. Then he bent down until his face was level with mine. His eyes looked even more vivid in the overhead light, and he was so close, I could see that his lashes were dark brown instead of black.

      “Here’s the most important thing you need to know. I hate demons more than you do, so you can trust that I’ll help you kill them. But, Ivy—” harsh laughter brushed my skin in its own caress “—whatever you do, don’t trust me with anything else.”

      The last time we’d been this close, he’d had me pinned to his car. He wasn’t touching me