Whats an app?
Its a... Savin chuckled. A program designed to do something specific and usually make life easier. Though Im not much for selfies.
Whats 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. Ill give you the tech talk later, he said. You wont 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 Ill 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. Hes a corax demon. Good guy. Id never reckon him. He keeps an eye on the demons in Paris and isnt 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 wont invite you along. I suspect youll 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. Ill 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 Jetts longing look at some passing tourists, he offered, Unless you want to walk by yourself for a while? I dont 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, youll be covered. Yes?
Thank you.
Ill leave the door to my place unlocked. Dont let the demon wards freak you out. Sometimes they tug when you enter.
Didnt even notice them last night, she offered airily.
Theyre not all-purpose, but theyve served me well. Ill 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 wasnt something he ever didwhy 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 shouldnt 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 hed 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 her. Things that came out of Daemonia might be required to return, no matter their species. Might someoneor somethingcome looking for Jett?
* * *
Jett wandered the cobblestoned streets and sidewalks through Paris, inhaling the smells of gasoline, cooked food and ancient limestone. The sounds of rushing cars, chattering tourists, Notre Dames bells and the laughter of children lightened her mood.
The sights were both historical and contemporary. The old buildings that had been around for centuries, and that she could recognize, gave her comfort. The city had not changed in her absence. And the people had only marginally changed, fashionwise. But there were so many cell phones now. Did everyone carry them always? Including the children? How bizarre to want to walk down the street having a conversation with a person on the phone while your family or friend walked next to you, doing the very same.
The city was as shed remembered, and yet those memories were so old everything had become new again. She found herself smiling despite not having used those muscles around her mouth for a long time. A satisfied sigh followed.
She could make this her home once again.
As she was weaving through tourists who crowded the sidewalks, the scent of roasted meat lured her to draw in the savory aroma. But she didnt feel hungry. After one bite of Savins pastry, she had realized it tasted like stale paper. It was not what shed eaten in Daemonia. All senses had been engaged during meals, lush scents and flavors combining to satisfy in the most bizarre manner. The humans would not know what to call the demonic foods, and some dishes might even repulse them.
She could grow accustomed to roast chicken and potatoes again. She must.
Savin had taken her bags back to his place, so Jett swung her arms as she crossed a busy intersection. The river was close. The water smelled dark, yet much cleaner than anything she had known in a while.
A passerby rudely brushed her shoulder and kept on walking, his attention on the cell phone at his ear. But the sensations Jett got from that quick contact shocked up her arm. Demon. It was an innate knowledge. He didnt turn to regard her. He couldnt know acknowledgment was required. Rather, submission.
That was a good thing. Maybe?
Part of her decided it was. The darkest part of her crossed her arms and gave a huffy pout. Really. Where was the subservience? Should not all demons know and fear her? It was going to take time to adjust to being just another face in the crowd.
Shaking off the surprise of having been so close to a demonand not feeling compelled to followJett wandered to the rivers edge and leaned over the wide concrete balustrade. If demons walked the streets without notice, that meant surely the city must be populated with all species of paranormals. Something of which shed not been aware when she was an innocent child.
And now knowing so much served her both bane and boon. All grown up and in the know, she could be smart and protect herself from anything that wished to harm her. If that anything knew who she was. Something she intended to conceal as long as physically possible.
Holding a hand out over the water, Jett closed her eyes and drew in the power of nature. Flowing water had always strengthened her. She harkened it to that fateful plunge over the falls. Rather, that push. Shed initially thought Savin had caught up to her and shoved her screaming and flailing over the edge. But shed corrected that after the long fall. He hadnt been close enough. He could never have known what had occurred during that fall.
Similar to the fall an angel makes from Above? It was a tale shed made up, a secret belief that had helped her through hard times. Innocence falling to destruction and ruin, and all that fantastical stuff.
But that truth wasnt something she could share with Savin. Maybe? No, she wasnt nearly so ready to completely trust the man. It had been twenty years. So much had happened. Both had changed and been altered by their stays in that nightmare place. Jett would be wise to tread carefully around the man who could reckon demons out of this realm.
But that truth wasnt something she could share with Savin. Maybe? No, she wasnt nearly so ready to completely trust the man. It had been twenty years. So much had happened. Both had changed and been altered by their stays in that nightmare place. Jett would be wise to tread carefully around the man who could reckon demons out of this realm.
Hearing the loud chatter of a woman next to her, Jett turned, expecting to find her conversing with another, and only saw the one woman.
Technology, she muttered Savins explanation. What else has changed?
For one thing, the movie screens. Or were they television screens? Whatever they were, there was one set up in the parvis before Notre Dame just across the river; it played a film on the cathedrals history. The screen was so large, and the images remarkably clear, even from where she stood.
The cars that zoomed past on the bridge were the same as she remembered, save newer and probably faster. The people all looked the same. Fashion in this touristy district still left much to be desired. Jett could spot a true Parisian by her smart, elegant style. Or there, the woman riding the bicycle in a skirt, with her high heels tucked in a side bag. Definitely a city native.
The food all seemed familiar. The Notre Dame Cathedral was still an awesome monument. The whine of tired children tugging on their parents legs was familiar, as well. So much remained familiar to her, and that was heartening.
Yet where were the bowing sycophants?
Jetts eyes sought someone, anyone who might recognize her importance. And she realized her sheen was beginning to wane, allowing her darkness to rise, so she tightened her hold on it and spread her focus over her skin once again. Mustnt drop her mask. No matter how good it felt, or how much she desired recognition.
After walking awhile, Jett shrugged her achy shoulders and yawned. The crowd and the bright sunlight taxed her energy. She was beginning to require more focus than usual to stay in this form. So she headed back toward Savins place, wandering quickly past the Montparnasse Cemetery and then the Luxembourg Gardens, taking in all things, but also looking forward to rest. Shed breathed enough fresh air for today.
Most of all, she looked forward to seeing Savin again.
The only friend she had ever known had reentered her life. And that was remarkable.
But what hed told her about her parents. Theyd divorced. And he had no clue where either was right now? Besides the memory of her best friend, her parents had been her only connection to this realm. For the longest time she had whispered the Catholic prayers her mother had taught her, until the words had begun to literally burn on her tongue. And long after shed learned not to invoke the Christian God in that place, the simple image of her mother or father had worked to keep up her spirits.
She needed to find them to truly return to this realm she wanted to once again call home.
Arriving at Savins building, she took in the vibrations cloaking the immediate area. Like Savin, she could read the air and sense demons when nearby. As well, she could vibrationally map out the living beings in the area. Sort of like sonar, she supposed. Savin was above in his home, already returned from his task. She knew it because his scent carried to her. That delicious essence of man that shed slept wrapped in all night.
There were wards outside the limestone-faced building. Invisible, yet she could feel Savins signature sealing them. Wards against demons and a few other species, perhaps vampires and werewolves. They tugged at her musculature, as they had last night, when she mounted the inner stairs and climbed up four stories, but it wasnt anything that would rip her apart or send her screaming.
Facing the wards drawn on Savins front door, Jett rechecked the sheen she wore, a masterful disguise. Shed need to relax and let go soon. Just an hour or so. A means to recharge.
Yet the last place she could do that was inside a fully warded reckoners home.
Or maybe, it might serve as the safest place possible.
She knocked on the front door, then tried the knob. It was open, and as she popped her head inside the flat, Savin called for her to enter. A fierce tug at her skin pulled and prickled as she crossed the threshold, but she made it inside and closed the door behind her, thus squelching the wards seeking force. It sought to repeal a demon. She was still strong enough to thwart the weakened repulsion.
Now she dropped her shoulders and exhaled wearily. You beat me back, she commented.
Savin sat on the couch, a glass of what smelled like alcohol in hand, which he tilted to her. It was a quick call. Four more demons sent back to where they belong. And you have been out the whole afternoon. You walk around the city?
She sat on the wooden-armed chair across from the couch and pulled up her legs to hook her feet on the leather cushion. It was cool and not so bright in his place, and she appreciated that. Paris is beautiful. I never appreciated the architecture when we were kids. So many people, though. Im tired out!
Yeah, its August and the tourist crush is ridiculous. No wonder all the locals head out of town this time of year. I left your new things in the bedroom for you. You want a drink?
I recognize the smell of whiskey from when my father used to have a sip after an evening meal. But Ive never tried alcohol. At least, not anything made in this realm.
Really? I suppose. He swiped a hand across his jaw.
She sensed he tried to be tactful and not ask about her experience, which she appreciated.
Want to try some?
Id never refuse a challenge from you.
And while that statement was something that she would have said as a kid to Savins challenging glint in the eye, now it felt bold and powerful. Adult. And in response, Savins gaze seemed to slip across her skin in a welcome manner. Jett wriggled on the chair, lifting her chin. She liked to be admired by him.
He stood and collected another glass in the kitchen, then returned to pour her a portion from the bottle.
Do you play all those guitars? she asked as he handed her the glass. She sniffed it. Very strong, and not too appealing.
Most are collectibles, he said. A few are prized possessions. That one is signed by Chuck Berry. Saw him at a concert a decade ago and met him when he was exiting out the backstage door. I like to play my own compositions. A little blues à la Chuck Berry, a little Southern rock. Some headbanging riffs mixed with a touch of classical. Im also teaching myself musicomancy.
Jett sat up a little straighter. Is that some kind of magic?
Using music. But its slow going. Hell, I tend to sit and drink far too much whiskey, and then my playing gets looser and more random. I suspect thats a good reason why I have yet to accomplish musicomancy. He winked and tilted back the remainder of his drink, then poured some more. I use the diddley bow for the magic stuff. He gestured over his shoulder, and Jett noted a strange guitar-like instrument with a turtle-shell-sized body and a long, thin neck and only one string. Made that one myself. Thats another hobby of mine. Fiddling around with making things. Made a bunch of navigational devices that I use for my work, as well. Guess I got the creative gene from my dad. You remember when I took apart your Nintendo controller?
I dont think I forgave you for that. And I wouldnt necessarily call destroying things being creative, she teased. You tended to take apart anything you could get your hands on.