Free Living with the Dead by Kelley Armstrong Page B

last night, his stomach was in a permanent knot, refusing to accept even the thought of food.
    He'd killed a man. Shot him in the back. He'd had to, of course, for Adele. She'd been so grateful. And his reward... He shivered now, thinking of it.
    Besides, the man had been an outsider. The kumpania taught that killing a human for survival was no different than slaughtering a cow for food. But last night, watching the man die, Colm hadn't been so sure.
    Still, it was over. He'd done the right thing, and now he had to focus on helping Adele again.
    The couple was about halfway down the hall now, moving fast, the man holding a backpack in one hand, his other on the woman's back.
    Colm wished he could see the woman's face. She looked pretty. He watched her rear moving under her tight pants and felt himself harden. His gaze moved to the man's hand, so confident, so intimate, her hair cascading over his fingers. Beautiful hair, black curls spilling down her back. Nothing like Adele's short, straight, dirty-blond hair. Guilt surged at the comparison, but it trickled away as he imagined what it would be like to touch the woman's hair, to wrap it around his fingers, to see it hanging down as she rode above –
    Fresh guilt slapped the image out of his head. She was human. Unfit. Unclean. Even to entertain the thought was a betrayal –
    The woman glanced over her shoulder, as if she'd heard his thoughts. His heart pounded, and her image faded. He concentrated on pulling it back, working so hard that the vision snapped into focus, nearly crystal-clear.
    Even with the frown, she was pretty. Brown skin and golden eyes like a cat –
    "What's wrong?" The man's voice was soft, but carried down the quiet hall. He stopped, pulling her farther into his protection as he scanned the corridor. "Did you – ?" The next words sounded like "sense something?"
    The woman shook her head and tore her gaze away. She murmured something too low for Colm to hear and they continued to the stairwell. Colm struggled to hold the vision, but by the time they reached the last flight, the scene blinked out.
    Colm had presumed they were part of the investigation. Friends of Robyn Peltier's helping the police to find her.
    After seeing their cautious glances, though, he reconsidered. Both had been dressed in dark clothes. They'd taken the stairs, not the elevator like the police. Again he saw that backpack swinging from the man's hand.
    Colm hurried after them.

 
----
     
    HOPE
     
    We're being followed." Karl said this as casually as he'd remark on the weather.
    "Cop?" Hope whispered.
    He shook his head.
    "Curious neighbor?"
    "I don't know. I can only hear and smell him."
    "Then how do you know – ? Ah. The smell is male and you hear only one set of footsteps. The way he's following suggests he's not a cop. Sneaking after us."
    "Very good. So, what should we do?"
    Hope knew he wasn't asking her advice. With Karl, she'd always be the student. She was fine with that. She was dating a professional thief almost twice her age – she'd long since stopped worrying about the appropriateness of the relationship.
    The question was an opportunity for Hope to build confidence in her ability to make good choices. For the demon, the answer sprang to mind with the weight and surety of a sledgehammer blow. She should turn around and confront their pursuer. She had a gun and the element of surprise. Grab the upper hand, shove it in his face and let the sweet chaos of his reaction rain down.
    The moment the demon tossed in its two cents, her conscience reared up with the polar-opposite response. Deny the demon. Don't engage – escape.
    After considering both arguments, she told Karl what she thought they should do.
    * * * *
    Two minutes later, Hope was making her demon very happy as she waltzed into the path of her pursuer.
    She didn't have the heart to tell it there was no kick-ass confrontation coming. The demon probably knew that, but was keeping silent, hoping for an