Chapter 8

"Whoa." Nash leaned closer for a better view, as my heart leaped into my throat. And if I weren't busy being horrified by Addison's featureless eye, I might have been surprised by his fearless curiosity. "The demon did that to your eye?"

Addison nodded. "Both of them." She held out her hand so we could see the small, curved, plastic disk cradled in her palm. It was too big to be a regular contact lens, and she must have seen my confusion. "Demon technology. Dekker provides them, to make us look normal."

My pulse still racing uneasily, I leaned over for a better look and noticed that the lens was detailed with the specifics of a human eye. Addison's eerie pale blue iris was right there in her palm, surrounding a pinpoint black pupil.

"The pupils even dilate and constrict, depending on the amount of light in the room." She smiled bitterly and blinked with a creepy, mismatched set of eyes. "Don'tcha just love foreign technology?"

I had no answer for that, and hoped she was being ironic. I wasn't particularly fond of technology that allowed elements of the Netherworld to hide in our world. But I did have questions. "Why did he do that? Wouldn't it be in the hellion's best interest to avoid making you stand out?"

"He had no choice." Tod scowled. "It's a side effect of the process. You know how they say the eyes are the windows to the soul?" he asked, and I swallowed thickly before nodding. I didn't like where this was headed. "Evidently they mean that literally. Once the soul is gone, there's nothing to see through the windows."

Nash whistled softly. "That has to be the weirdest thing I've ever seen." And that meant a lot coming from a bean sidhe.

"You want me to put the contact back in, don't you?" Addison cocked her head and gave him a small, eerie smile.

"That'd be great, thanks." Nash nodded decisively.

Addy stood and crossed into the attached bathroom. She was back in under a minute, and her eye looked normal. Only it also still looked weird, probably because I now knew what the contacts hid.

"So, when she gets her soul back, her eyes will go back to normal?" Nash aimed his question at his brother, rather than Addison, and I realized he was avoiding looking at her. Her eyes freaked me out, too, but I couldn't help being amused that Nash was more comfortable dealing with a grim reaper—a living dead boy who killed people and harvested human souls—than with an otherwise normal human girl who'd lost hers.

"They should."

"Okay, wait a minute. I've seen several dead people—" not a statement I could have imagined saying a few months earlier "—and none of them looked like that, even after the reaper took their souls."

Tod nodded, Addy's hand held between both of his. "When your heart and brain stop working, your eyes stop working. They reflect the state the soul was in when the person died. It's kind of like when a clock battery runs down. The hour and minute hands don't disappear, but they don't keep ticking, either. They freeze on the last minute they measured."

"Okay, that makes sense." In a really weird way. But I didn't plan to dwell on it. I was ready to give Addison her privacy and go work on her problem somewhere her empty soul-windows didn't stare at me from behind their eerie human facades. But first we needed the information we'd actually come for. "Addison, did you notice anything about the hellion that might help us identify him? A crooked nose or a dimpled chin? Bad teeth?"

But even as I asked, I realized her answer probably wouldn't help, even if she had noticed something. I didn't know much about hellions, but I did know they could assume more than one form, so any description she gave us might not fit the hellion a moment after she'd met him.

She shook her head slowly. "No. Other than the eyes, he looked normal. Brown hair. Average height. Normal clothes. And I didn't see any birthmarks or anything."

"And you sure you didn't hear the hellion's name?" Nash asked.

"If I had, I don't think I could have forgotten it."

"What about your contract?" I asked, struck by a sudden bolt of brilliance. "He signed, too, didn't he? Did you see what he wrote?"

She shook her head miserably. "They must have done that after I left. The spot for his name was still blank when I signed."

My hand tightened around Nash's; my frustration was getting harder to control. "Okay, then, think carefully. Did he say anything to you? Or to the woman who took you to him?" No need to tell her the woman was a reaper. I wasn't sure how much she knew about Tod, or the Netherworld in general.

"Um…" Addy closed her eyes in concentration, but opened them after only a few seconds. "No. He never spoke. I never even heard his voice."

"What about the woman?" Nash's foot bounced on the carpet, and his knee bumped the coffee table over and over. He was obviously as eager to go as I was. "Did she say anything to either of you?"

"No." Addy didn't hesitate that time. "No one spoke while we were in…that place." Her nose wrinkled in disgust, or maybe in fear.

"What about when you got back?" I laid my hand on Nash's knee to make it stop bouncing. "Did she say anything when you got back to Dekker's office?"

"Yes!" Addy's weird, fake eyes widened, and I noticed absently that the pupils did dilate with varying levels of light. That would have been cool, if it weren't so strange. "When we got back, Dekker was still there. On her way out of the room, the woman kind of trailed her hand up his arm and over his shoulder, smiling at him like he was edible. She said, 'Your avarice is secure for another year.' Then she just walked out the door."

Avarice… I could practically hear the gears in Tod's head grinding, as he searched his memory, but if he came up with anything, I couldn't tell.

"Does that mean anything to you?" Addison studied the reaper's face in obvious hope. "Avarice means greed, right?"

"Yeah," I said when Tod didn't answer. I ran my thumb over Nash's knuckles, where his fingers were still wrapped in mine.

"So, does that tell you who the hellion is?"

"No." Though, I hated to admit it. "But with a little research it might." I stood, signaling to the guys that I was ready to go. Immediately. "Tod, can you try to get a copy of Addy's contract? Surely Dekker has it in a file somewhere." That seemed to me to be the easiest way to identify the hellion, considering that Tod could pop into and out of places at will.

He nodded, but his face betrayed little hope.

"Good." I turned back to Addy and scrounged up an encouraging smile. "We'll let you know what we find out."

I shoved the front door open and pocketed my keys, glancing into first the living room, then the kitchen to make sure Nash and I were alone. My dad worked an extra half shift most Mondays, so he shouldn't be home until after nine, which would give me and Nash several hours alone together.

But I couldn't get used to having the house to myself—Aunt Val had almost always been home—so I shouted for him just in case, as Nash closed the door behind me. "Dad?"

No response, but I dropped my backpack in his recliner, then checked his bedroom to be sure. He'd kill me if he found out I was messing in reaper business. Again. Not to mention the hellions.

My dad's room was empty, and by the time I got back to the kitchen, Nash had shed his jacket and pulled two cans of soda from the fridge. I shrugged out of my coat and tossed it over the back of an armchair, barely glancing at the ripped upholstery.

It would have cost too much for my dad to bring his furniture over from Ireland, so we'd been slowly furnishing our new-to-us home as we could afford to. Fortunately the rental house was tiny, so we didn't need much. And Uncle Brendon had insisted I keep everything I'd used at his house, so my bedroom looked much the same here, except for the plain white walls and little available floor space.

I didn't care about any of that. All that mattered was that Sophie wasn't around to stick her nose in my business. Except on Sunday nights. And even then, she usually ignored me completely.

"You hungry?" I opened an overhead cabinet and pulled out a flat, folded bag of popcorn.

"Starving," Nash said, so I stuck it in the microwave and set the timer. While the microwave hummed, I popped open my can and stood with my back against the countertop, watching the view as Nash rooted through the fridge. Evidently two and a half minutes was too long to wait for a snack.

But then, with the state football play-offs coming up, Coach Rundell had been working him extra hard for the past couple of weeks. No wonder Nash was always hungry.

"So, any ideas?" I asked as the first pop echoed from the microwave. Between conflicting schedules at school, his football practice, and my shift at the Cinemark, we'd barely had a chance to talk all day.

Nash stood with a jar of salsa in one hand, and I tossed him a half-empty bag of corn chips from the countertop. "Not even one." He rounded the peninsula and sank into a chair at the folding card table currently furnishing our eat-in kitchen. "Find anything online?"

"Role-playing games and band lyrics," I said, pulling open the grimy door when the microwave buzzed. Obviously, the Netherworld had yet to extend its influence to the Internet. Which was probably fortunate, now that I thought about it.

I dumped the popcorn into the largest bowl in the cabinet and shook a small bottle of nacho-cheese-flavored seasoning over it, then grabbed my soda on the way to the table. "So…what do you know about hellions?"

"Nothing more than what Addy told us last night." Nash dipped a corn chip into the wide-mouthed jar, and it came out loaded with chunky hot salsa.

"After seeing her eyes, I never want to lay mine on a hellion. Ever." I crunched on several pieces of popcorn. "But it doesn't look like we'll have much of a choice."

"I could kill Tod for getting us into this."

"It's a little late for that." I wrinkled my nose in distaste when he dipped a piece of popcorn into the salsa jar, then tossed it into his mouth.

"Weird." Nash cocked his head to one side, chewing as he considered the odd combination. "But good-weird."

"You want something to put that in?" I stood to grab a bowl before he could answer. "When's Tod supposed to be here?"

He glanced at his watch. "He's taking his break in about fifteen minutes. But knowing my brother, he's already here somewhere, spying on us."

I set the bowl on the table and poured salsa into it. "He needs a life of his own. A girlfriend. Addison seems pretty interested in him…." I ventured, leaning over his shoulder to dip a popcorn kernel into the sauce. I hesitated, then finally closed my eyes and stuck it in my mouth.

Eww! You'd think nacho seasoning and salsa would go well together, but they don't. At least, not on popcorn.

Nash laughed at me while I washed the taste from my mouth with a gulp from my can. "The last thing Tod needs is a soulless human husk of a girlfriend. Especially a famous one. He's legally deceased, and she's followed around all day by photographers. I can see the headline— Addison Page dates dead boy! "

"Okay, so it's not an obvious paring." I shrugged and grabbed another handful of regular popcorn. "But it's not like you and I are exactly simple." Not with his mom teaching me bean sidhe stuff, and my dad watching his every move. Though, there was the little matter of our mutual species….

"I like a challenge." Nash stood, his irises swirling lazily. Hungrily.

"Oh, yeah?" I smiled up at him and retreated slowly until my hip hit the countertop, my insides smoking from the heat of his gaze.

"Yeah…" Nash stepped close enough that I could feel the warmth of his chest through both of our shirts. But he didn't touch me. His head dipped toward my neck, and I inhaled sharply when his breath brushed my collarbone.

I tilted my head back. My heart slammed against my ribs, and I held my breath, waiting to feel his lips on me. They would be soft, and hot. I knew it. I wanted it. But it didn't happen.

His head rose gradually, his breath traveling up my neck unbearably slowly. My pulse raced faster with each hot, damp puff against my skin. "Nash…" My arms rose, and my fingers hovered millimeters from his shirt when his warm hands wrapped around my wrists. Holding me. Stopping me.

"Mmm?" His breath brushed my ear then, and shivers shot up my spine, lingering in pleasant places all over my body.

"Let me touch you." It came out as a moan, and part of me was mortified by the need in my voice. But he liked it. I could tell, and that made it okay.

"Not yet," he murmured, his words indistinct, a groan granted the bare minimum of consonants. The sound buffeted my earlobe. Scalding me.

"Now," I whispered. I couldn't breathe. Not until I could touch him. Or he touched me. "Now. Please, Nash."

"Are you sure?" His words surged over me like a wave of heat, pulsing with barely controlled desire. Power. Compulsion. Considering his particular talents, he could probably have talked me into anything he wanted me to do, and that knowledge scared me and thrilled me at the same time. But he wouldn't do it. He wanted me to want him on my own.

Oh, and I did. I wanted him so badly every part of me ached, some places worse than others.

Nash pulled back enough so that I could see the brown of his eyes, churning in a sea of green. And still his breath brushed my chin, sending a wave of sensation over me, so delicate I froze to keep from shattering it.

Then I nodded. I was totally sure.

Nash let go of my wrists, and one hand slid over my skin to the back of my neck, cradling my skull. He tilted my head to one side and his lips met mine, just as hot and soft as I'd known they'd be.

I opened my mouth for him, drawing him in farther. Deeper. As much as I could take, and still I wanted more. My hands skimmed his chest, traveling boldly over each plane, each ridge, and soon that wasn't enough, either, so I tugged his shirt up, eager for the feel of his flesh beneath my fingers.

Nash's free hand found my waist, squeezing. His fingers slid beneath the waistband of my jeans, gripping my hip, scalding me with each touch. I moaned into his mouth when his fingers tightened, and he kissed me harder, teasing me.

My hands wrapped around his waist, traveling up the broad expanse of his back, smooth and hard, and…

"Give it a rest, already," Tod snapped from somewhere behind his brother. "It already smells like sex in here, and you're both still dressed. You have no idea how messed up that is."

Nash stiffened and pulled away from me. Then his forehead fell against my shoulder, and he growled in warning at his brother, as my hands slid down his back and out of his shirt. Nash breathed heavily against my neck as he pulled his fingers slowly from my waistband. He wanted more. Was ready for more.

I could feel his readiness against my hip.

I couldn't make my heart stop pounding. Couldn't control my ragged breathing. Couldn't cool my burning cheeks.

Nash finally stepped away from me, and he was still breathing heavily, too. He shoved his hands into his pockets and collapsed into his chair.

"You're lucky no one else walked in on you," Tod continued, snatching a chip from the bag, completely oblivious to our discomfort, as usual. "If I were her dad, you'd be hobbling home with your balls in hand tonight, little brother."

"Shut up. Tod!" I snapped, tugging my jeans into place below my navel, both delighted and mortified to realize I could still feel the warmth of Nash's bare hand on my hip. "Or you're not going to be in any shape to help Addison!"

"Speaking of which…" Tod dipped his chip into the salsa, then crunched as he spoke. "I'd appreciate it if you two could keep your sticky fingers out of my personal life…."

"What life?" Nash mumbled angrily. "Just sit down so we can get this over with. Kaylee's dad will be home by nine, and we'd like at least a couple of hours alone before then."

Tod smirked. "You think she's ready for any more time alone with you?"

"Not your business, Tod. I'll decide what I'm ready for." I dropped into the chair across from him. "Your business is finding the hellion who has Addy's soul, and figuring out how to get it back from him. Did you find her contract?"

Tod scowled in defeat. "No. It took me three hours of digging and snooping this morning just to find out that all copies of demon paperwork are kept in the Netherworld."

"So, she never really had a shot at enacting her out-clause." I shoved the bowl of salsa across the table, suddenly too angry to snack. "How did the others do it?"

"They probably actually read their contracts," Nash snapped.

"Or else they went through Dekker again. I'm guessing he doesn't care if they renege, so long as they provide a replacement soul." Tod rocked back and forth on the uneven legs of his folding chair.

"Lovely," I spat, closing my eyes briefly in disgust. "Any idea how to ID the hellion on our own?"

"No." The reaper sighed in frustration and grabbed a handful of popcorn. "I've never actually met a hellion, and so far as I know, there's no demon directory to refer to. Not that we have a name to look up."

"But hellions have specialties, right?" Nash asked. "Like, there's a demon of pain, and a demon of lust…"

"…and a demon of joy, and a demon of hope, and even a demon of love," Tod finished, gesturing with a corn chip. "There's a hellion for every emotion and weakness known to man. More than one. There are hundreds of hellions in the Netherworld. Maybe thousands. Knowing what Addy's demon specializes in won't be much help without something more specific."

"But it's a starting place, right?" I twisted my can on the table. "It's more than we knew yesterday."

Tod nodded slowly. "For what little good it does us."

"Wait…" My thoughts had stalled on something he'd said, like a thorn caught on a loose thread. "How can there be a hellion of love? Or of hope? I thought hellions fed on pain and suffering. And chaos. How can they possibly feed on emotions that make people happy?"

Nash smiled at me, but it was a sweet, pitying smile, like he was humoring me. As if I were too naive for words. But it was Tod who answered, as usual more than willing to enlighten me on the darker side of life.

"A hellion can wring pain and chaos from any emotion, Kaylee. If you want love, he gives you unrequited love. Pangs of it so torturous you go insane and die. If you ask for hope, he makes it vain hope, hope so fruitless that after grasping at it, clutching it, you eventually go insane and die. And if you beg for faith, you get blind faith. Faith you cling to, and build upon, until the day you discover that it's unfounded, and you—"

"I get it," I interrupted, a chip halfway to my mouth. "You go insane and die. Hellions are the sum of all things cruel and evil. Thanks for clarifying."

Nash chuckled, and I couldn't hold back a grin.

"You two are cracked," Tod snapped.

My smile widened. "Says the undead man in love with the soulless pop star."

Tod scowled, and I thought I saw his cheeks flush. Which struck me as kind of weird for a man who'd died two years ago. "I'm not in love with her."

"So you pulled us into a potentially deadly scheme to save the soul of some girl you don't even care about?"

His scowl deepened, and Tod scooted his folding chair across the faded linoleum. "Fine. You don't want to help? I'll do it myself." He stood. "So what if I get killed in the process? Permanently, this time."

I rolled my eyes. "Sit down, reaper, we're going to help." I just couldn't resist getting back at him for constantly invading our privacy. "But we're suffering from a conspicuous lack of ideas, here. We need someone who knows more about hellions. Or at least about the Netherworld in general."

"Hello? Reaper here." Exasperated, Tod laid one hand flat on the tabletop. "I know about the Netherworld."

"Not enough, apparently." Nash tossed another piece of popcorn into his mouth, ignoring Tod's annoyed under-his-breath muttering. "We need to talk to someone who's been around longer." He eyed me solemnly. "Kaylee, we need to talk to your dad."

"No." I shook my head firmly. "No way. If I even mention the word hellion he'll lock me in my room and swallow the key."

"He's the oldest non-human I know, and you don't have to tell him what we're doing." Nash shrugged, as if my decision should have been a no-brainer. "Just tell him you're curious. Or come up with something that won't make him worry. Besides, he promised not to keep any more secrets from you."

"Yeah, but he never promised to give me the inside scoop on demons." I looked him straight in the eye to convey my final word on the subject. "If I ask my dad about hellions, this whole thing is over." Then I smiled as an alternate solution came to mind. "Why don't you ask your mom?"

Nash frowned, and Tod's expression echoed the sentiment. "Because not only would she freak out, she'd call your dad so they could freak out in stereo."

"So we're back where we started." My shoulders slumped, and I dipped a chip into the bowl of salsa. "We need someone old enough to have lots of experience in the Netherworld, but who won't care what we're up to."

Tod sat up straight in his chair, as if the lightbulb over his head had just blinked to life. "Libby. We need to talk to Libby."