Page 88 of Want Me, Take Me, Haunt Me, Make Me

Maxwell nodded. “It might prolong matters, but my master would also expect to sense the barrier weakening. I’d wager it’ll only ask in order to get itself and its servants into position.”

“Okay,” said Hazel. She started to go on, then abruptly stopped herself. New life entered her face, though only a little—Maxwellthought she was holding back. “Where would theygetinto position? The other side of the weak point?”

“Yes, I’d imagine so. I wouldn’t wonder if they took the same route I generally do. Why?” He didn’t dare hope either, couldn’t pay attention to the sudden surge of excitement that lightened his chest.

Hazel’s smile was very slight, but it hit Maxwell like the sun burning through fog. “I might have a plan.”

Chapter 46

When Hazel invited him in, Maxwell tried not to read more into it than that her plan needed his participation and she needed to sit down indoors. She didn’t seem to hate him for what he had to do, she might even have figured out a way to use it, but that didn’t mean she would welcome his company. If she viewed him as a threat now, she had good reason.

He took care not to follow her too closely as they went into the living room. When she took her phone out of her pocket, he turned away to look out the window. The sun had almost sunk behind the trees. The first day was nearly over; Perthrux wasn’t the sort to be generous with technicalities.

“Do you like spicy food?” Hazel asked, and he nearly jumped.

“Pardon?”

“I’m ordering dinner. It costs an arm and a leg to get delivery out here, but”—she shrugged—“I’ve earned it and, you know, you only live once. As far as I know…”

Hazel trailed off, giving Maxwell an expressive glance. He laughed, less out of amusement at her obvious prompting than out of sheer relief that she was still speaking to him as she had before, as a confidant if nothing else. “I’m afraid I haven’t learned either. And I’m not averse to spice.”

“Wonderful. I’m going to be a jerk and order for you, though,unless you’ve had Mexican before. I don’t have the brain to explain the menu.”

“Believe me,” he said, “whatever you order will be better than many meals I’ve had.”

She wrinkled her nose in sympathetic disgust. After a few more taps on her phone, she pocketed it again, then crossed the room to Maxwell’s side. “It’s a pretty sunset, anyhow,” she said. “Whoever built this house didn’t do too badly with the windows.”

“They have to have gotten something right. The law of averages and all that.” He watched her rather than the sunset: the faint curve of her lips, the way she stretched her shoulders back, the faded blue of her shirt against her pale skin. She might have been the only real part of the room.

Sensing his gaze, Hazel turned toward him, her own eyes dark and calm. Maxwell wondered if she was too weary for fear, or rage, or grief. Perhaps the last few weeks had burned it out of her. “Whatever I can do, I will,” he said, and felt the urge to fall on his knees like some knight in a Pre-Raphaelite painting pledging fealty. “Just command me.”

* * *

It was averytempting offer, even when Hazel was dead tired and still feeling filthy from Chapman’s basement. Her body’s response paled in comparison to other times, but it was still notable, and she was about to say something about keeping that in mind when she saw the expression on Maxwell’s face. Remorse was part of it, and grief, but also a devotion that left her stunned for a second, blinking like she’d stared too long at the sun.

She couldn’t reply teasingly to that. She couldn’t even find the words to do it justice or to express her own feelings, not when she had half a brain at most. All she could manage to do was hug him once more. He tensed again in surprise before his arms went around her,but this time he let out his breath, and the sound he made was miles away from his forced laughter earlier.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you too much,” Hazel said into his chest, and then rolled her eyes at herself. “I don’tknowa lot, not yet. Ideas are starting to kind of…line up, but I’m not sure how well they’ll work, just that following them seems like my best option.”

“Your judgment’s gotten you this far.” Maxwell’s voice rumbled against her ear.

“My judgment, a lot of luck, and plenty of help, but thank you.” Hazel glanced upward, watching Maxwell as she went on. “Speaking of help, what do you know about the anchors demons use to stay in the ethereal? Do they actually exist?”

Maxwell paused in the way that Hazel was coming to learn meant he was testing the limits of what he could say. “Yes. My master has targeted a few of its rivals’. It—” His hands flexed against her back, and his jaw clenched before he finally shook his head, sighing. “I can’t tell you what or where it is. A demon would need to be in regular contact with its anchor, and it would likely be the place where it has or can draw the most power.”

“Could I track it through sympathetic magic, or with Casper? Like I tracked you when I ended up in the city?”

“If you had an item with a close enough link.”

“Or a person?”

“Yes,” he said, “but I doubt I could let you use me.”

Ignoring the chance for innuendo, Hazel grinned against him. “But hypothetically, if somebody had been using your master’s power, and I had that person in a jar—”

“That…could work,” said Maxwell, sounding stunned. He pulled away just enough to stare down at her. “Yes. That’s a definite possibility.”

* * *