in the night before.
“Two days in a row.” Maddock frowned. “We can’t keep calling it a coincidence. They’re following us.”
I picked up the empty can at his feet. “Maybe they want to help us. Or warn us about something.”
“Or rob us blind and kill us in our sleep,” Devi offered from across the room, where she was stuffing her bedroll into her bag.
“If that’s the case, why make their presence so obvious?”
She shrugged. “It can’t be easy to hide an entire herd of horses.”
I stood by my theories, but Finn and Maddock hardly seemed to know I was there. The farther west we’d come—two-thirds of the way in two days, thanks to prewar roads kept passable by the Church—the more tense they’d grown.
Tobias, on the other hand, seemed happier with each mile that passed beneath our tires.
“How are we fixed for gas?” Reese added Devi’s duffel to the three others hanging from his shoulders.
“Too low to pass by the next station without filling up,” Finn said. “If I remember correctly, there’s a fuel depot a couple of miles south of town. With any luck, it’ll be locked but unguarded.”
Assuming the Church hadn’t anticipated our westward shift.
Maddock stood and hefted his pack onto his back. “Devi and I will take the SUV. Reese, you take the truck.”
“I’ll go with him.” Grayson rushed ahead before anyone could object. “I’ll stay in the truck, but I’m going. You can’t keep leaving me behind.”
“Oh, let her go,” I said. “Finn and I will hold down the fort here.”
Reese only relented when he realized he was outvoted.
“Watch the nomads,” Maddock said on his way out the door. “If they come any closer, call on this.” He tossed me one of our handheld radios.
I gave him a mock salute and clipped the radio to my waistband. As soon as they were gone, Finn took up watch at the window while I knelt to help Tobias with his—formerly my—sleep roll.
“Hey, Tobias, how long had you been with your new parents before we found you? Do you remember?”
He shrugged, and I held my finger in place over a length of black cord holding the bedroll closed so he could form a clumsy bow. “I dunno.”
“And you don’t remember your new parents’ names?”
Anabelle shook her head at me from across the room, where she was taking inventory of our hygiene supplies. But I couldn’t leave it alone. If demons adopting kids was going to be a new trend, I wanted to know as much as I could about how they were pulling it off.
“They just said to call them Mommy and Daddy.” Tobias stood from his messy but functional nylon bow and pressed his knees together in a stance any first grader would recognize. “I gotta go.”
The courthouse had half a dozen restrooms, but none of them had been functional in decades. “Hang on, and I’ll take you out—”
But he was out of the room and halfway down the first of two dusty marble staircases before I could even stand.
“Tobias, wait!” I called, and Mellie rolled over on her bedroll but didn’t quite shake off sleep.
The rapid patter of the child’s footsteps echoed below me as I stomped down the spiral stairs after him. A second later Finn’s boots clomped from above as he followed both of us. “Tobias!” he shouted, but the boy’s footsteps didn’t slow.
When I hit the first-floor landing, I stopped to listen for the echo of small shoes to figure out which way he’d gone.
Down the back hall, toward the rear door.
I followed Tobias into the back of the building, marveling at how well the courthouse had held up under a century of neglect. Stone floors and walls didn’t crumble or mold like carpet and drywall, and though many of the windows were broken, most of the doors were still intact, which had kept out the larger animals. And because the building had been stripped of furnishings shortly after the war, there was nothing left inside to rot or mildew.
“Tobias?” I called, my boots nearly silent on the grimy marble tiles.
Muffled footsteps whispered against the floor at my back, and a grunt exploded behind me, followed by a blunt crack. My heart hammering, I spun to find an unfamiliar man splayed across the floor at my feet, the short end of a crowbar lodged in the side of his skull.
I jumped back, startled, and my pulse raced so fast my vision swam.
Standing over the dead man was a boy about my age, wearing torn jeans and a dusty black cowboy hat, his feet spread for balance, his jaw set in a firm line. He wore prewar vintage Western boots, absent the spurs I’d seen in history textbooks, and despite my shock—or perhaps because of it—I wondered how he’d managed to walk so softly in footwear that looked stiff and unyielding.
His skin was dark, his eyes a piercing golden brown, and he wore a simple silver cross on a thin chain around his neck.
With a startling bolt of intuition, I realized the boy was one of the nomads—and he’d just killed the stranger who’d snuck up on me.
“Don’t move.” Without looking away from me, he braced one boot on the dead man’s jaw and wrenched the crowbar free with a wet sucking sound. Then he wielded it like a bat on one shoulder, ready to swing again, blood dripping from the short, bent end of the metal.
“I am Eli Woods, sentinel in the Lord’s Army.” His gaze narrowed on me. His grip tightened on the crowbar. “You have ten seconds to convince me you’re not one of the Unclean, or I will bury this in your skull.”
Uh-oh.
I took a step back and my spine hit the cool stone wall.
Eli wasn’t a demon, so I couldn’t exorcise him, and I wasn’t going to hurt a fellow human in anything less than self-defense. Which was starting to look like a distinct possibility.
“Five seconds.” He studied me, and I found no recognition in his eyes. “Who are you?”
Obviously nomads didn’t watch the news. They didn’t have television. But if they had a radio and had picked up any of the Church’s broadcasts proclaiming the infamous Nina Kane to be possessed, giving him my name wouldn’t help him trust me.
“Um . . .”
“Three seconds.”
I sucked in a deep breath and held his gaze. Then I spat out the truth. “I’m Nina Kane. But I’m not a demon, and I can prove it.”
Eli’s dark brows rose beneath the wide brim of his hat. “You can prove you’re not a demon?” He was either surprised or skeptical, but I couldn’t tell which because his face only seemed capable of scowling. His grip on the crowbar tightened. “That’s
