Free Surrender to Darkness by Annette McCleave

“Every moment you hold on to it, you risk the fate of the world. If Satan should discover you have it—”
    “No one knows except Yamashita-sensei … and now you. If word of its presence here were to leak out, it would most likely result from your interest. The safest course would be to forget we had this conversation and return to the United States.”
    “I can’t do that. I’m staying right here until I get what I came for.”
    The leather of his black jacket was thick and strong, scuffed by regular use and worn at the cuff. No delicate, butter-soft calfskin for Murdoch.
    “Because you made a promise to your superiors?”
    “Because the battle with Satan is one we could lose, and I really hate to lose.”
    The voice of experience. A quick glance at his face confirmed the presence of fine lines around his eyes and mouth. He wore the signs of his maturity with pride.
    “So, the Veil is a weapon,” she said softly. “What exactly does it do?”
    “It slays demons.”
    “How?”
    A short gust of air left his lips, fogging the air. Kiyoko risked another glance, uncertain whether it was a chuckle or a snort of disgust. His lips twisted. “I have no bloody idea. This entire trip hinges on Lena Sharpe’s gut instinct and the impressions she got six months ago, before she lost the amulet.”
    “She lost the amulet?” The woman’s most prized possession, invested with both sentimental and mystical value. “How?”
    “Trapping a demon.”
    Kiyoko bit her lip, thinking. “She sacrificed it?”
    “Aye. To save her niece.”
    The tight muscles of her shoulders eased a fraction. Lena’s initial behavior was still unforgivable, but it was heartening to discover the woman had come around in the end.
    “Gut instinct,” she repeated. “So, there’s no actual evidence that the Veil is a weapon? No documentation of its powers?”
    “No.”
    “Then why would I give it to you?”
    “Because even the old man admits it’s a dark relic. The bloody thing is dangerous. Not to insult you, lass, but as immortals, we’re better able to protect it than your talented but very vulnerable human warriors.”
    A faint breeze blew Kiyoko’s unbound hair into her face, and she tucked an errant lock behind her ear. “You’re not going to insist that everyone in your group is immortal, are you?”
    Silence.
    She smiled. “I’m privy to a great deal of information, Mr. Murdoch. I may be human, but I’m not a fool. Ever since Lena-san betrayed my trust last spring, I’ve been investigating her and her little band of … friends.”
    “Then you know what we’re doing.”
    “Not precisely,” Kiyoko admitted. “It’s clear you’re no longer simply gathering souls. Judging by the flow of people through the ranch, I’d guess you’ve undertaken the training of other Gatherers—very understandable given the current state of the world. But your group also does an inordinate amount of travel, to places that make no sense. South Africa, for example.”
    He grimaced. “My boss’s pet project—finding and protecting all of the Ignobles.”
    “Your boss? Would that be Brian Webster?”
    “Aye.” His hands gripped the wooden rail, knuckles white.
    “You don’t like him,” she guessed.
    “Webster and I have … issues,” he admitted. “But we’re committed to the same cause: stopping Satan in his tracks. The devil is making inroads everywhere, even in Asia.”
    Kiyoko nodded. The toll here was different, but as corruption spread and people continued to turn away from their beliefs, crime rose and the economy grew ever more unstable.
    Murdoch straightened, facing her. His body blocked the breeze and instead of cool fall air, she got a subtle whiff of warm masculinity and spicy soap. “I cannot allow another dark relic to fall into Satan’s hands. Leaving the Veil here is an unacceptable risk.”
    His words were weighted with both confidence and passion. There was no doubt he’d do exactly as he promised—protect the