Dates from Hell(114)
“How can you kill something so ancient?” I wondered aloud.
“It ain’t easy.”
My gaze was drawn to his earring. “If Christian symbols don’t work, then what’s with that?”
“I didn’t say they don’t work. They do. More than most.” He fingered the cross in his earlobe. “Every little bit helps.”
“What can I do?”
“Any good at research?”
“Actually, yes.”
Research was what had brought me to my major. I loved looking things up, finding answers to questions only I cared about.
His gaze traveled from the tip of my overly curly hair, past my black-rimmed glasses, to the ample breasts and hips ensconced in an oversized sweatshirt and equally oversized jeans.
“I’ve always had a thing for librarians,” he murmured. “They’re so…helpful.”
Considering his face, that hair, the body, I just bet they were.
“I’m not a librarian,” I said stiffly.
“We could pretend.”
I stared at him for several seconds. Was he trying to make a joke? It was hard to tell when he never cracked a smile.
Chavez turned away, and the strange, charged moment was gone. “I’m going for supplies before it gets dark.”
“What supplies?”
“Holy water, host—”
“Where do you get stuff like that? At the discount holy water and host shop?”
“A church.”
“They give it out because you ask?”
“Because I ask, yes.”
My skepticism must have shown on my face because he continued. “Priests believe in evil, Kit. If they didn’t they wouldn’t have a job. They’ve seen amazing things—great good and great bad.”
“And you? Do you ever see any good?”
His eyes met mine. “Not until just lately.”
“What’d I do?”
“You chased me out of the alley. You wouldn’t stop questioning me. You weren’t afraid to stand up to the insane man you believed had shot your date.”
“You did shoot my date.”
“But I didn’t kill him.”
“There is that.” I tilted my head, curious. “What else?”
“You let me into your home.”
“At gunpoint,” I muttered.
“Not all the time. You went breaking and entering with me. No one’s ever done that before.”
“No one?”
He shook his head. I got all warm and fuzzy.
“So your interpretation of good is…”
Pretty damn broad. Basically I hadn’t screamed, called the police, or kicked him out of my house. Give me the Nobel Prize.
“You’re courageous, unselfish, a risk taker,” Chavez said.
That didn’t sound like me at all. It sounded more like the me I wanted to be.
“And then there’s that kiss.”
I looked up and he smiled.
“Good?” I asked.
“More like great.”
Hours passed. The sun moved across the sky and began to descend. I began to get nervous.
Where was Chavez?
If I were a demon, I’d put my death on hold and go straight for the demon hunter. The thought made me unable to sit still, so I paced from the bedroom to the living room and back again.
“I’m sure Chavez has had demons come after him before,” I told myself.
Hell, that was probably what he wanted.
Nevertheless, I was close to frantic. The first man who thought I kissed great—or at least the first who’d told me so—just my luck he’d walk out of my life and never come back.
I’d just completed my fifty-fifth pass into the bedroom when a soft footfall from the living room caused me to freeze.
I bit my lip, then glanced at the window. The sun was still up, though not for long. Nevertheless, daylight was daylight, and we still had it.
“Chavez?” I hurried into the front room and stopped dead at the sight of a strange young man with a huge pot of daffodils.
“How did you get in?”
“The doorman. He thought you were gone. Should I set this here?” He indicated the floor.
“Sure. Fine. Whatever.”
I wanted him gone. I cast a quick look over my shoulder, down the hall, heard the slight thud of the pot hitting the carpet and turned around.
The kid was right next to me.
“Freakishly fast,” I murmured.
In a not quite human way.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispered.
His eyes were hypnotic blue, his hair golden curls. Way too young for me, but I didn’t care. He was pretty, and he thought I was, too. What more could a girl ask for?
A soul?
I took one step back and his arm snaked around my waist. His full, soft lips brushed mine.
“Souls are overrated,” I whispered.