Not long after I’d gotten off the phone with Thierry, the screenshot he’d promised came through as a text with all the necessary information. I’d never seen so many zeroes after a number before, and I had no idea what my father thought food and shelter cost, but he might have overdone it by a couple hundred thousand or so.

“I. Am. So. Bored,” I whined, hours into roaming the streets.

“Most would consider that a good thing,” Zayne replied.

I glanced at him, able to make out just enough of his profile in the low light as he stared into the city park. His hair was back in that tucked ponytail. He was in his human form, and I imagined those who saw us thought we were a young couple or friends out enjoying the night.

I doubted the fact that we were both dressed in head-to-toe black like old-school cat burglars was all that noteworthy.

Though, Zayne in black leather pants was very noteworthy to me.

For the last hour or so, we’d been scoping out the area where we’d spotted the Upper Level demons the other night. But other than a handful of Fiends, we hadn’t come across any.

“If we were out here keeping the streets clear of demons and the humans safe, then I guess being bored would be a good thing,” I mused. “But we’re looking for the Harbinger, so a dull night seems like a bad thing. We’re no closer to finding him than we were yesterday.”

Zayne stopped under a streetlamp just outside the park entry. “You know what I think?”

“No, but I bet you’re going to tell me.” I went to hop up on the two-or three-foot-high limestone retaining wall that flanked the entryway, but as soon as my booted foot hit the ledge, I realized I’d misjudged the height. I started to topple backward—

Zayne caught me by the hips, steadying me until my feet were planted on the ledge. “I have no idea how you can leap from one roof to another and scale a fire escape, but nearly crack your skull open on a three-foot retaining wall.”

“Skills,” I muttered, turning so that I was facing him. For once, I was the one looking down at him. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I got you.” His hands lingered on my hips, his grip light just above the iron daggers I wore hidden under my shirt. “You good?”

I nodded. “I think so.”

“I want you to be sure.” His tone was light, even teasing, as he looked up at me. “I wouldn’t be a very good Protector if you ended up breaking an arm my first couple of weeks on the job.”

My lips twitched. “Yeah, that would mean you kind of suck, but I think you’re forgetting one important factoid.”

“And what’s that?” The weight of his hands on my hips shifted, somehow becoming...heavier.