Demon Marked by Meljean Brook

testified against his character, had taken away his pride, had ruined his business and his life.
    Had Cawthorne been treating this demon at Nightingale House? Nicholas wouldn’t ask her. He wouldn’t ask until he knew more—until he knew whether her answers were lies.
    Cooper hadn’t been able to confirm the demon’s story yet. Although his investigator had spoken to several nurses and administrators, they’d blocked him by citing patient confidentiality. Two nurses had recently quit their positions at Nightingale House, however, and the investigator planned to track them down.
    Good enough. With enough money greasing palms, someone would talk—and Nicholas would have more answers.
    He texted a reply and slid the phone back into his pocket, considering this new information. Cawthorne had killed himself three weeks ago. The same amount of time had passed since someone had first entered Madelyn’s house, using her code and tipping Nicholas off to her presence. Considering the timing, he couldn’t believe Cawthorne’s suicide was a coincidence.
    With demons involved, Nicholas couldn’t be certain of anything—but two distinct possibilities seemed likelier than any other.
    The first was that the demon had lied about her amnesia and about escaping Nightingale House. That she’d lied about everything so far, despite the bargain.
    That was the simplest possibility. Given any other circumstance, Nicholas would have calculated it as the likeliest. But simplest didn’t fit any demon’s scheme or methods, and didn’t account for the lengths every demon would go to avoid breaking a bargain.
    So the second, more probable scenario was that Madelyn had somehow escaped punishment in Hell. Then, for some unknown reason, this demon’s memories had been stripped and Madelyn had left her in Cawthorne’s care. God knew how long the man had been in Madelyn’s pocket—twenty-five years, at least. Compared to destroying a good man’s life and reputation, caring for a demon with amnesia amounted to little trouble . . . until the demon had escaped. Then Madelyn had returned to London and exacted payment for Cawthorne’s failure.
    Was Madelyn looking for this demon now?
    If so, that suited Nicholas perfectly. When Madelyn caught up to the demon, she’d also find Nicholas—and he had a payment to exact from her, too.
    He couldn’t fucking wait.
    Fully awake now, Nicholas levered the seat up and faced a wall of white. Sometime between the last stop for gas and the PI’s message vibrating in his pants, they’d driven into a snowstorm. Fat flakes whipped past the windows, piling in a thick blanket on the windshield almost as quickly as the wipers shoved them away. He couldn’t see a damn thing.
    â€œWhere are we?”
    â€œSmack dab in the middle of BFE.” Without taking her eyes off the road, the demon jabbed the “seek” button on the radio console. “We just passed into Indiana.”
    He checked the clock. A few past nine. He’d slept longer than planned, but they were also making good time despite the snow. A glance at the speedometer showed him why—and sent his stomach into a dive.
    Christ. A demon’s vision rivaled a hawk’s, but a whiteout was a goddamn whiteout. “Can you see anything through this shit?”
    â€œNot really. I can hear other engines, though, and can tell how far away they are and the direction they’re in. Once I got used to that, it’s almost like seeing.” She flicked the blinker and angled smoothly into the left lane. A few seconds later, they passed a small hatchback crawling along like a bug. “The road isn’t bad yet, but we’ll need chains if this keeps up.”
    â€œI’ll buy some when we stop for gas,” Nicholas said.
    â€œThat’ll need to be soon.” The scanning radio stopped on another static-filled country station. Maybe