Free Forged in Fire by Juliette Cross Page B

to the dawning sensation creeping along my skin. I was close to Flamma. An ethereal tendril wove out of that secret place within, wrapping a warm layer around my chest, spreading over the rest of my body like a blanket alight with electricity. It was the oddest sensation I’d ever felt, though it seemed to happen of its own accord. I had no idea what this meant, yet at the same time felt protected.
    As soon as we stepped onto the stone walkway along the riverfront, I saw them, conversing closely near one of the many stone sculptures dotting the riverfront.
    Though Jude was definitely a specimen to draw the eye, I couldn’t help but gaze at the tall, slender woman standing next to him. She must’ve been six foot. Blonde hair braided tightly in a thick line halfway down her back and a pale face with wide, pretty eyes. She was dressed from head to foot in brown leather, including a duster jacket that hit her knees. The green-eyed monster hissed and spat, though I thought I’d locked the damn animal up good and tight. I suddenly felt small and insignificant in my faded jeans, white knit shirt and red denim jacket cropped short at the waist.
    Malcolm guided me straight for them, but I pulled him to a stop. “You’re shivering. Are you cold?”
    Malcolm wrapped me into a hug, rubbing my back. Another crafty way to get close to a girl—the ole you-must-be-cold-so-let-me-hold-you move. I didn’t protest. Now I had an excuse to watch the two over his shoulder without moving into their line of vision. My senses heightened. The smell of the muddy river mixed with salt water from the Gulf wafted over me. The cool, humid air clung to my skin. And sound amplified to a ridiculous degree. I honed in on the one sound I’d come for—the conversation between the model look-alikes not fifteen yards away.
    “What kind of signs?”
    “You know very well what the signs are, Jude.”
    The familiarity with which she said his name twisted something in my stomach. To my utter disgust and that of my caged green-eyed monster, whose hair stiffened straight in the air, the woman’s voice was husky and silky at the same time. She had a bit of a European accent too, though watered down. Go figure.
    “And have you spoken to George about this?” Jude asked her.
    Her eyes narrowed at the question.
    “No,” she said tightly. “I don’t need his permission to theorize, do I?”
    “I never said you did.”
    Though she was apparently beyond miffed at the mention of this George guy, Jude had a very amused expression on that gorgeous face of his. The woman continued in a much more businesslike manner, which was more to my liking. “My region has been overrun by servants to a high demon, one of the highest. He’s crafty, stays well hidden and not always here on our plane. He’s the reason I’m here in New Orleans.”
    “He’s come here?”
    I heard something I’d never heard before in Jude’s voice—a combination of excitement and anxiety. The blonde shook her head.
    “No. His henchmen are here, though. Something big is going on. I think he could be—”
    Suddenly, she went rigid, pulling a dagger lightning fast from somewhere near her thigh. I froze. She sensed Flamma. I glanced to my right and left, then back at them. Both Jude and presumably Kat were staring straight at me. Shock, then fury passed across those dark eyes I’d come to know so well. Without a second’s pause, he marched in long strides directly toward me, his eyes cutting to Malcolm before landing furiously back on mine.
    To say I wasn’t terrified, as well as mortified for spying, would be a complete and total lie. Still, I held my ground, moving out of Malcolm’s arms and pushing my chin up a notch. I was getting good at acting. I fleetingly wondered if I should switch my major to Drama, or maybe Politics.
    Then he was there. Whoa. Way inside my personal space. And Malcolm’s. Jet eyes staked me to the spot.
    “Do you have a death wish?” His voice grated against