Highborn. Part 2

The teen gasped and tried unsuccessfully to get her fingers between the woman's hand and her scalp to stop the pulling. "Stop it!"

The older woman just sneered at her. "Don't be telling me what to do." She sent a sideways glance to the hallway to make sure the guard wasn't looking their way, then pulled down on the girl's head at the same time she brought her knee up and into the younger woman's ribs. The teenager gasped and opened her mouth to yell, but the hooker's other hand cut the cry short when they wrapped around her target's throat and squeezed. "Shhhh," she said. She jerked her head at another one of the women, who hurried over to join in the fun. "We're just going to show you a few things. Call it a reality check. You don't want to make any noise, see, because if the guard gets p.i.s.sed at us, we'll get p.i.s.sed at you."

Watching from the corner as the two started taking halfhearted jabs at their victim, Brynna frowned as a third woman, heavier built and with old needle scars along her elbows, grinned nastily and ambled toward the group. It really wasn't Brynna's responsibility to step in, but this girl was in trouble and, from the looks of it, things were going to get worse. This pretty young woman probably represented everything these hard cases could never have: youth, wealth, opportunity. For some those choices had never existed at all and they did what they could with what they'd been born into; for others-and maybe these were worse-she was the picture of the lives they'd once had and thrown away. Either way, Brynna thought that although the girl had walked in, she'd be going out on a stretcher.

The group had grown to four or five, and now they were scuffling quietly in the corner. One of the prost.i.tutes did something, but the girl's shriek was m.u.f.fled by a hand slammed over her mouth. The guard didn't even notice-her attention was on the glossy pages of some magazine. Brynna saw the teen being bent backward. If the women took her to the floor, they might end up permanently disfiguring her ... or worse.

"s.h.i.t," Brynna muttered as she stood. What the h.e.l.l-maybe she'd get a few celestial brownie points for playing rescuer.

"Oh, lookie here." Candy's sarcastic voice slid into her ear as she moved to walk with Brynna. "Ms. Snotty decides to partic.i.p.ate." She gave a little extra push to the last syllable-par-ti-ci-pate.

Brynna ignored her, and when she got to the women crowded around the hapless teenager, she jammed one arm between the two closest backs, then rammed her elbow first in one direction, then the other. The impact sent two of the hookers stumbling and the others were startled enough to pause. Brynna needed only a second to wrap her fingers around the girl's arm and haul her out from the middle of the vicious group.

"Fun's over," she said. They stared at her as if she should say something more, but Brynna didn't feel obligated to explain herself. The girl was already a mess, with one eye swollen shut, a split lip, and the left side of her face gouged by someone's artificial fingernails. The way she was hunched over hinted she might have a cracked rib or two. Brynna pushed her none-too-gently to the back corner, where she slid down the wall and cowered like a beaten dog.

"What the f.u.c.k f.u.c.k?" the Hispanic woman demanded. "I'll break your ugly face, b.i.t.c.h!"

"I doubt that."

"I don't," someone else said. The added comment came from the biggest gal in the holding cell, the one with needle scars on the dark brown skin of her arms. She was a couple of inches shorter than Brynna but outweighed her by a good thirty pounds; that put her at close to two hundred, so despite whatever toll the drugs had taken on her body, nothing had affected her appet.i.te. Besides being tall, strong, and street-smart, she was confident and undoubtedly believed she was as mean as a starving wolf.

Brynna loved it when humans thought that.

Wait-she was supposed to be doing good here, not breaking heads. Plus she needed to remember her human body-although she could do many things not written in the h.o.m.o sapiens h.o.m.o sapiens rule book and this sh.e.l.l wasn't nearly as fragile as a normal body, she could still be hurt. If she needed a reminder, all she had to do was glance at the substantial expanse of scabbed-over skin on her right arm. rule book and this sh.e.l.l wasn't nearly as fragile as a normal body, she could still be hurt. If she needed a reminder, all she had to do was glance at the substantial expanse of scabbed-over skin on her right arm.

The st.u.r.dy black woman stepped close enough to almost touch Brynna, but Brynna didn't move. When the prost.i.tute spoke, her words came out with the scents of old onions and older meat. "You gonna step aside and we gonna continue our fun with Miz Preppie over there. Then it's your turn." Her mouth turned up. "But first, lemme give you something to look forward to."

Brynna had almost decided to just take whatever blow Meat Mouth was going to give, but at the last instant she changed her mind. She'd had enough pain-maybe not so much here on Earth, but more than enough for a million lifetimes in h.e.l.l. What these hookers could deal out was nothing in the scheme of eternity, but there was that one big question, wasn't there?

Why should she?

As Astarte she'd had power in h.e.l.l, but there had always been those with more than she had-Lucifer himself, of course, and those demons charged by him to oversee the oceans of agony and ensure that no corner of Lucifer's Kingdom ever ran dry. And what had she been? Only one more of Lucifer's possessions over which he could gloat, the most prized, the best, she who had to dance to his every whim as she waited for the current never-ending moment to pa.s.s so that the next could begin. Even as she was, a Highborn angel fallen to demon, she knew what it felt like to shrink beneath the shadow of torment, to cringe away from creatures the concept of which would drive those around her now instantly insane. She knew the feel, smell and taste of her own blood, the pain of the spirit, and the true suffering of the flesh.

And she would not stand still and experience so much as a droplet of it from the woman standing in front of her. No human would ever have that kind of power over her. The very notion of it made heat flare up within her skull.

A lot lot of heat. of heat.

Brynna's eyes flashed briefly red and she stepped forward so fast that one knee was between the other woman's legs before she could do anything about it. There was barely time to blink, then Brynna's face was right there, there, almost touching the other's, and the breath-and there was so almost touching the other's, and the breath-and there was so much much of it-that Brynna exhaled as she spoke suddenly smelled dark and sweet, like hot, rotting cherries, all the while promising so much more. of it-that Brynna exhaled as she spoke suddenly smelled dark and sweet, like hot, rotting cherries, all the while promising so much more.

"Do you think that you frighten me, little streetwalker?" Brynna whispered. The big woman instinctively tried to backpedal at the same time that her body was drawn of its own accord to Brynna's, but two of Brynna's fingers had already found the low neckline of the prost.i.tute's red T-shirt. Her forefinger slipped over the fabric's edge, then went deeper, digging into sweaty cleavage. "I have eaten the hearts of men who've murdered a thousand wh.o.r.es like you, then sewn up their chests just so I could tear them apart again." Brynna's lips were so close to the other woman's that they brushed as she spoke; her tongue flicked out, like a snake's, and she tasted the fear and unbidden l.u.s.t that oozed from the nicotine-scented flesh of the hooker's mouth. Brynna tilted her head and stared into her opponent's eyes, feeling the fire behind her own beckoning. "Would you like me to show you how it's done?"

Her prisoner-because really, that's what the hooker had become-swallowed, then coughed as fear smothered longing and made her choke on her own saliva. She whimpered as the skin between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s started to blister. "Yo, honey, I was just f.u.c.king with you. Didn't mean no harm. It's all right. We're good." She was nearly babbling. "Yeah, we're real good, I swear."

"I've had just about enough of your white-bread a.s.s," the Latina suddenly snarled. She launched herself in Brynna's direction with a tight, experienced swing, then found herself crumpling as Brynna's other hand whipped out and her fist was covered over by Brynna's very, very very hot fingers. A faint wisp of oily black smoke wafted upward from the joined hands, and Brynna noticed that the Hispanic woman was the one with the clawlike fingernails. They were pretty d.a.m.ned ineffective right now. In fact, they seemed to be melting along the edges. "I-I-" Whatever the working girl had planned to say was lost in a garbled moan of pain and the smell of charring human flesh. hot fingers. A faint wisp of oily black smoke wafted upward from the joined hands, and Brynna noticed that the Hispanic woman was the one with the clawlike fingernails. They were pretty d.a.m.ned ineffective right now. In fact, they seemed to be melting along the edges. "I-I-" Whatever the working girl had planned to say was lost in a garbled moan of pain and the smell of charring human flesh.

She'd been going to let the Hispanic hooker fall, but instead Brynna decided to introduce her two annoyances to each other. A satisfying jerk sent the two women crashing together face-first, hard enough to make teeth snap and bones bruise. Brynna held them there so she could study them for a few seconds, then let go. Both women went down, clutching at each other like stumbling mountain climbers.

She looked around, but the other occupants had backed away. She could feel heat painting the inside of her body, the exhilarating antic.i.p.ation of violence. Her skin was probably a nice rosy red. "Anyone else care to introduce yourself?"

Her question got a lot of head shaking and negative noises, but one woman's muttering wasn't difficult for Brynna's sensitive hearing to pick up. "b.i.t.c.h's gotta sleep sometime."

Brynna laughed harshly, and the sound, a b.a.s.t.a.r.d cross between blackboard scratches and a hyena's cry, made her cell companions wince. "Actually, that's incorrect. I'd like like to sleep, but I don't to sleep, but I don't have have to." She turned her head quickly enough so that her gaze met and held that of the woman who'd spoken. Once pretty, this young streetwalker had brown hair and lifeless eyes. Night living had aged her way beyond her years. The hooker tried bravely to hold it, but after only a few seconds she had to look away from Brynna's smoldering stare. to." She turned her head quickly enough so that her gaze met and held that of the woman who'd spoken. Once pretty, this young streetwalker had brown hair and lifeless eyes. Night living had aged her way beyond her years. The hooker tried bravely to hold it, but after only a few seconds she had to look away from Brynna's smoldering stare.

"My hand," groaned the Latina. She was still on the floor next to her would-be battle companion, but now she was sitting with her knees drawn tightly against her chest while she cradled one hand with the other. "It's burned-G.o.d, it hurts so bad. bad."

"Stop whining," Brynna said offhandedly. "You have no idea what a real real burn feels like." She felt the stares of the others, most of whom were just now noticing the scabby expanse of skin on Brynna's upper arm. She only grinned at them. burn feels like." She felt the stares of the others, most of whom were just now noticing the scabby expanse of skin on Brynna's upper arm. She only grinned at them.

No one stepped forward to defend the two women she'd put down or to get to the childish one she was protecting, so Brynna finally went over and sat beside the teenager. The girl was quiet and withdrawn-in shock, maybe-and Brynna was inclined to leave her that way. She wasn't interested in a life story that would come with an obligatory chapter about how a girl like me suddenly found myself in a place like this. a girl like me suddenly found myself in a place like this. The lack of conversation suited her just fine. The lack of conversation suited her just fine.

She was, Brynna discovered, vaguely disappointed at the lack of fight all these women had. She'd been gearing up for a lengthy, all-out and b.l.o.o.d.y brawl, maybe something akin to a fight at an English country pub in the thirteenth century. But no, not in this day and age. That she yearned for a confrontation like that disturbed her all the more. She'd come back to Earth to be the opposite of what she'd become in Lucifer's Kingdom, to return to the light of Grace and leave the lure of the dark behind forever. Instead, she had been fully willing to reopen her shadow side, or at least a bit of it on a smaller, earthly scale. She was disappointed in herself, and if she felt that way, someone with much more rigid standards was likely displeased as well ... that is, if He had even noticed.

Then again, the att.i.tude, habits and lifestyle learned after an uncountable pa.s.sage of time weren't so easily banished, so maybe she needed to give herself a break, chalk it up to the learning curve. After all, the humans she was surrounded by certainly weren't going to sympathize, and from what she'd seen so far-witness how she'd ended up in here because of one of society's so-called protectors-the ones on the outside wouldn't either. So often there was a purpose to the things that happened; maybe she'd been put in here for a reason, even if it was only to protect the withdrawn young woman sitting next to her.

REDMOND AND HIS PARTNER came for Brynna at about eight the next morning. She caught his scent-fresh bath and laundry soap and a pleasantly scented aftershave-before anyone saw him, but apparently he was quite a familiar face to the ladies of the night with whom she had spent the last eighteen or so hours. The two detectives kept their expressions emotionless and ignored the catcalls and jeering flirtations leveled at them by the hookers. Redmond jerked his head in Brynna's direction, and it wasn't until she stood and came to the front of the holding cell with the battered teenager scrambling after her that his stony countenance gave way. came for Brynna at about eight the next morning. She caught his scent-fresh bath and laundry soap and a pleasantly scented aftershave-before anyone saw him, but apparently he was quite a familiar face to the ladies of the night with whom she had spent the last eighteen or so hours. The two detectives kept their expressions emotionless and ignored the catcalls and jeering flirtations leveled at them by the hookers. Redmond jerked his head in Brynna's direction, and it wasn't until she stood and came to the front of the holding cell with the battered teenager scrambling after her that his stony countenance gave way.

"Please," the girl whimpered as she clutched at Brynna's arm. "Please don't leave me here. Please. Please."

Brynna opened her mouth but didn't know what to say. This, she suddenly realized, was likely to be only the first of many situations in her new world over which she would have little control.

"What the h.e.l.l happened to you?" Redmond demanded.

His tone of voice made the teenager shrink backward, but not far enough to release her hold on Brynna. Redmond scowled when she didn't answer, then motioned at the duty cop. A moment later the policewoman was unlocking the holding cell's door. "Let's go, Brynna."

The teenager gasped and her hold went from tight to desperate. Brynna started to pry her loose, then hesitated. "They'll kill her," she said in a low voice.

Redmond and his partner stared at Brynna, then Redmond's gaze flicked over the teenager's face again and his eyes narrowed. During the night the skin around the younger woman's battered eye had gone purplish-blue, and the gouges along her cheek had taken on an angry red tinge around the edges. "f.u.c.k," he muttered. "Asher!" he snapped. The guard looked up in surprise at Redmond's tone. "Maybe you ought to keep your attention on the prisoners rather than those magazines," he ground out.

She started to snap something in return, then her gaze followed his pointing finger. Her face paled, and suddenly she was all business. "You," she ordered and motioned at the girl. "Get out here." As the girl stumbled out behind Brynna, the policewoman wrapped a hand around the teenager's wrist and her face darkened when she realized the girl had been more than a little bruised up. "I'll have you taken up to medical." She glared at the rest of the women in the holding cell, but no one looked especially concerned. "Well," Asher said to no one in particular as she made sure the cell door relocked, "I'll probably have to use the hose to stop any more altercations. And this bunch sure looks like the type who's going to need controlling."

That, Brynna noticed, wiped away most of the sneers. She saw several of the women glance at a neatly folded green hose hanging on the wall in the middle of the hallway across from the cells. Above it was a valve labeled simply ON ON and and OFF OFF. It wasn't hard to imagine how a powerful spray of cold water might instantly take the belligerence out of a group of fighting prisoners.

The girl sent Brynna a final grateful look and was hustled off in the other direction. Although Brynna was handcuffed again, she could sense that most of Detective Redmond's animosity toward her had dissipated. She didn't know why, but she hoped that meant she could get out of here; she'd learned all she cared to know about this part of Chicago's nighttime culture.

"We're going to turn you loose," Redmond said, almost as if he were tuned in to her thoughts. "I gave some consideration to charging you with a.s.saulting an officer, but that's just too d.a.m.ned much paperwork to screw around with."

He glanced at her, expecting her to say something, but Brynna stayed silent. He looked disgusted and shook his head slightly. Belatedly Brynna wondered if she was supposed to have said thanks.

"One of the reasons I'm going to give you a break is that I want you to think about coming clean about what you saw when Gallagher was killed," Redmond continued. "A lot of people have died and we're just chasing our tails here. If more die and you could've helped identify the killer, it's going to be on your conscience. There's no correlation among the victims, Ms. Malak. For all we know, next time it might be a five-year-old kid." His blue eyes were penetrating. "Can you be okay with looking yourself in the mirror if that happens?"

Brynna opened her mouth to say it wasn't her business, but the words didn't come out. Wasn't Wasn't it her business? She'd escaped h.e.l.l to save herself, but doing that wasn't going to be a free ride. She had some learning to do, some it her business? She'd escaped h.e.l.l to save herself, but doing that wasn't going to be a free ride. She had some learning to do, some giving. giving. Where she'd come from, fear and respect were just part of what came with her position. Here in the world of humans, if she wanted to be viewed favorably, she would have to earn it whether she liked the idea or not. "He had brown hair," she finally offered. "Kind of brownish-green eyes. And he was tall." Where she'd come from, fear and respect were just part of what came with her position. Here in the world of humans, if she wanted to be viewed favorably, she would have to earn it whether she liked the idea or not. "He had brown hair," she finally offered. "Kind of brownish-green eyes. And he was tall."

Redmond and his partner jerked to a stop in the middle of the hallway, then steered her into a sharp right turn and hurried her up a flight of stairs. More turns and stairs, then he was motioning her toward a chair on the other side of a desk that was one of dozens in a large, noisy room. Redmond's partner-for the first time Brynna noticed that the ID hanging from his pocket said SATHI SATHI-leaned over without comment and unlocked the handcuffs. Brynna didn't bother to rub her wrists.

Redmond nearly leaped onto the chair behind the desk, then yanked out a notebook and began scribbling in it. "What else?" he asked. "What was he wearing? Did you notice anything else about him? A weapon?"

Brynna made a show of trying to concentrate. "He had on some kind of long jacket," she said at last. "If he had a gun, I never saw it. Maybe he hid it beneath that coat." There, she thought. That was all she was going to give them. After all, there was no way for her to explain how she could follow the man to his apartment building, or even that she knew for sure it was the same person. Chicago's finest were going to have to figure out the rest for themselves.

Redmond sat back, tapping his pen against the tabletop. "What the h.e.l.l," he said. "It's a whole lot more than we had before yesterday."

Sathi nodded. "Cut her loose?"

"Yeah." Redmond stood. "Let's go, Ms. Malak. We'll escort you out."

Barely two minutes later, the two detectives had walked her downstairs to the front desk area. The two men turned and headed back inside and Brynna moved toward the door at a fast walk. Her eyes were on the beckoning sunlight outside when a dark-haired woman charged into the foyer and nearly knocked her over. She was speaking in rapid-fire Spanish, her words tumbling and shrieking and jumbled with panic.

"Que alguien nos ayude, por favor! Mi marido esta teniendo un ataque al corazon! Por favor, por favor-ayudenos que se me muere!"

"Ma'am-ma'am!" the desk sergeant tried to interrupt. "No habla Spanish! Speak English!" Spanish! Speak English!"

The woman either didn't understand him or was too excited to comprehend what he was saying anyway. "Alguien debe entenderme! Por favor, el esta en el coche, alli delante del edificio a la derecha! No creo que podamos conseguir el hospital a tiempo-el morira!" "Alguien debe entenderme! Por favor, el esta en el coche, alli delante del edificio a la derecha! No creo que podamos conseguir el hospital a tiempo-el morira!"

"Does anyone here speak Spanish?" the sergeant bellowed. "She's talking too fast-I need some a.s.sistance here!"

"She's saying her husband's having a heart attack," Brynna said without thinking. "She's parked out front and he's in the car. She thinks he's going to die before they can get to a hospital."

The desk sergeant's eyes widened, then he darted around the desk and ran outside. Two more uniformed officers followed as another man behind the desk yanked up a telephone handset, punched in a two-digit code, and spoke rapidly into the mouthpiece. "Dispatch, we need an ambulance stat at-"

Brynna turned back toward the door, then stopped as the Hispanic woman went to her knees in front of the desk and sobbed. "Senora," "Senora," Brynna said, hesitating. She gave the woman's shoulder an awkward squeeze. Brynna said, hesitating. She gave the woman's shoulder an awkward squeeze. "el tendra todo razon." He will be all right. "el tendra todo razon." He will be all right. She didn't know if she sounded comforting or not, but it was the best she could do-she just wasn't used to this. She didn't know if she sounded comforting or not, but it was the best she could do-she just wasn't used to this. "Le ayudaran." "Le ayudaran." They will help you. They will help you. Within another twenty seconds one of the cops had returned and gathered up the crying woman, and by the time an ambulance wailed to a stop outside, things had calmed down enough to where Brynna thought that she might be able to finally get out of there. Within another twenty seconds one of the cops had returned and gathered up the crying woman, and by the time an ambulance wailed to a stop outside, things had calmed down enough to where Brynna thought that she might be able to finally get out of there.

"You never mentioned you spoke Spanish." She paused at the sound of Detective Redmond's voice.

Brynna considered replying that he'd never asked, but gave him a noncommital shrug instead. "I ... have an ear for languages."

Redmond's eyebrows raised in surprise. "So you speak more than one."

"Sure."

"Really. How many?" When she hesitated, he folded his arms and looked even more disbelieving. "Come on, either you know or you don't."

The smug tone of his voice was aggravating. "All of them," she snapped.

Redmond's mouth opened, but for a moment he couldn't say anything. "Right." It was clear he thought she was insane.

"Whether you think I'm telling the truth makes no difference to me," Brynna told him.

He studied her without saying anything for a few moments. While she waited-and she wasn't sure why she was bothering-Brynna thought that women probably found him quite attractive. The rough ladies in the holding cell hadn't kept their admiration a secret when he'd gone down there, and although the noncriminal females up here-policewomen and others-were more subtle, it wasn't hard to pick up on the vibe. "So you're going to stick with that story," he said eventually. When she only looked at him, Redmond finally added, "Claiming that you can understand any language."

"I don't have any reason to lie to you about that."

"Uh-huh." He pressed his lips together and she knew he hadn't missed the qualifier-about that. He carefully adjusted his gla.s.ses before he spoke again. "Tell you what. I have a meet this afternoon with a Korean guy to talk about his daughter's disappearance. He doesn't speak English very well, so you be back here at two o'clock and run interference." He carefully adjusted his gla.s.ses before he spoke again. "Tell you what. I have a meet this afternoon with a Korean guy to talk about his daughter's disappearance. He doesn't speak English very well, so you be back here at two o'clock and run interference."

"Interference?"

"Translate for me," Redmond said patiently. He kept his expression carefully bland. "Back and forth." When Brynna didn't agree right away, he leaned forward slightly. "Is there a problem?"

"I don't keep track of time," was all Brynna could think of to say.

The detective glanced at her wrists, then unbuckled the band of the watch he was wearing. "Take this."

Redmond's partner had been standing silently the entire time, but now he frowned. "Eran-"

"She'll bring it back." Redmond's gaze sought Brynna's. "Won't you?"

There was nothing for her to do but accept the watch. "Of course." She peered at the band, then fastened it clumsily around one wrist. "I'm not a thief."

"Of course," Detective Sathi echoed. He made no attempt to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

"Easy, Bheru," Redmond said. "It's a cheap sports watch." Redmond glanced back at Brynna, then pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket and offered it her. "Here."

She didn't reach for the money. "Why?"

"Why not?"

"But what is it for?"

Redmond looked at her oddly. "If you insist on a reason, call it an interpreter's fee." He motioned toward the commotion out front, which was rapidly drawing to a close. "For helping us out with that lady and her husband."

Brynna pondered this for a moment, then nodded and accepted the bill. "All right." She turned to go.

"Is there somewhere we can drive you?" Detective Sathi asked her in his lilting accent. "You are supposed to be back here in"-he glanced at his own wrist.w.a.tch-"just about four hours."

Brynna wondered if the man realized that she could speak Hindi better than he could. She resisted the urge, knowing it would probably irritate him. "No, thanks. I'm not going far."

"Indeed."

Brynna smiled a little, charmed by his formality in spite of herself. "I'm good," she promised. "I'll be back."

She knew they wanted to know more, but like all good things, her many, many secrets would have to wait to be revealed.

Four.

True to her word, Brynna stayed in the neighborhood. It felt odd to be bound by a human schedule, but that was just one more thing she would have to adapt to in this world. Her stomach was twisting, rumbling, and rather painful, and although that could be ignored-she'd endured much worse-this was the start of the third day in this female form without something to eat and it was starting to run down-like an automobile, the body required fuel to keep going.

She found a restaurant on Cermak Road about ten blocks away from the courthouse, a tiny place with a sign that read NICKEL AND DIME DINER NICKEL AND DIME DINER above the front windows. The inside was just as grubby as the outside, with a half dozen booths beneath the windows and ten or twelve stools along the counter. Brynna chose a booth toward the back where she could sit just out of sight of the street yet still see who came through the door. Redmond and Sathi had followed her, although they had no idea she knew it. They drove with their car windows open and like the nephilim killer, each had a unique scent which she would forever be able to instantly identify. Their surveillance didn't bother her, but she must never let her guard down regarding Lucifer's Hunters. Sitting at the counter closest to the door were a couple of uniformed cops, but they didn't make Brynna feel any safer. above the front windows. The inside was just as grubby as the outside, with a half dozen booths beneath the windows and ten or twelve stools along the counter. Brynna chose a booth toward the back where she could sit just out of sight of the street yet still see who came through the door. Redmond and Sathi had followed her, although they had no idea she knew it. They drove with their car windows open and like the nephilim killer, each had a unique scent which she would forever be able to instantly identify. Their surveillance didn't bother her, but she must never let her guard down regarding Lucifer's Hunters. Sitting at the counter closest to the door were a couple of uniformed cops, but they didn't make Brynna feel any safer.

The waitress was a tired-looking woman of about fifty, with graying blond hair and the wrinkles of a hard life showing on her face. A name tag on her chest identified her as Paige. While she waited, Brynna scanned the dingy plastic-covered menu at the table. "Coffee," Brynna finally said. "I want something without flesh, but I don't see-"

"W-What?"

The stutter made Brynna look up. Paige's eyes had widened and she was staring at Brynna. "Meat," Brynna corrected. Oddly, sometimes the stupidest details of a dialect would trip her up. "I don't eat meat."

"Oh!" Paige scribbled on her book, looking relieved. "The cook can make you a vegetarian omelet, no problem. You want potatoes? Toast?"