Free The Demon’s Surrender by Sarah Rees Brennan

wind in the air, striking Sin’s face and sending cold fingers crawling tip by freezing tip down her back. She looked into Nick’s blank face and thought: possessed , and did not know why she hadn’t seen it years ago, why everyone didn’t see it when they looked at him. There was no human being behind that face, only a creature who owned but could not animate it.
    Alan had lived with this for most of his life, knowing exactly what it was. The wave of sympathy that washed over Sin at the thought shocked her with its intensity.
    She couldn’t work out what kind of man he was, good or evil, terrifying or terrifyingly misguided. She couldn’t imagine what it would take to bring up a demon.
    All she knew was that she’d had him all wrong.
    “Shut up about my brother,” Nick said at last. “I know you’ve always hated him, but I don’t need to hear about it.” His lip curled. “He doesn’t think much of you either.”
    If Nick had decided to support Mae’s bid to be leader, who was likely to be behind that decision?
    Sin picked up her peanut butter sandwich again and bit in.
    “I got that,” she said. “Thanks.”
    She was in a hurry when she left school, and she didn’t need to be distracted by the surprise appearance of Alan Ryves, at the wheel of an ancient blue car and with his head bent over a book.
    It was therefore a complete mystery to her why she took a detour through the side gate, went over, and tapped on the car window.
    Alan used one hand to subtly go for his gun and the other to keep his page, then actually looked at her and sent the window whirring down.
    “What are you doing here?” Sin demanded, and was horrified by the words coming out of her mouth.
    “Picking my baby brother up from school,” Alan told her, sounding faintly puzzled that she would ask something so obvious.
    “Well, he’s in detention,” Sin said in what she hoped was a more reasonable voice. “Word is he tried to kill someone with a paintbrush.”
    “Little scamp,” Alan said. “Well, boys will be boys. Can I give you a lift anywhere?”
    Offended dignity said not in a million years, but Sin had a lot more practicality than pride.
    “If you could drive me to my sister’s school, that’d be great,” she said, going around the car and climbing into the passenger seat.
    “Happy to,” said Alan, and started the car engine.
    She gave him directions, and he turned a corner through the estate by her school and toward Acton town without comment, obviously already familiar enough with the geography of this part of London. Market people always had to know where they were going, and be able to get there fast when they had to.
    Sin was not planning on reaching out and being turned down again, so she turned her face away from Alan and watched the buildings go by, gray towers changing to tan-colored Victorian buildings and back again.
    “I wanted to talk to you about last night,” said Alan.
    Horror and embarrassment sent a burning-hot flash flood through Sin’s veins. But it would be absolutely unacceptable for Alan to know he had inspired those feelings, and since she was a performer, goddamn it, Sin laughed and said lightly, “Really? You have to know it wasn’t a big deal.”
    “Yes, I know that,” Alan said, his voice very mild. “But we’re going to be working together for some time. I’d like for us to get on better than we have done in the past. God knows that wouldn’t be hard.”
    He doesn’t think much of you.
    “Sounds good!” Sin responded, forcing herself to sound a bit incredulous about all the fuss Alan was making instead of desperate for the conversation to be over.
    “I had fun at the Market last night,” Alan continued. “A lot more fun than I usually have.”
    Until Sin had thrown herself at him. Yes, she understood perfectly. What she didn’t understand was why Alan had to talk so much.
    “I just wanted to let you know that I understand,” Alan told her. “And I don’t want you to