Playing With Fire by Christine Pope Page B

to help her now that they were safely away from the fire.
    Part of her wanted to scream in denial, to tell her she must be hallucinating the nightmarish being who stood so diffidently a scant arm’s length away. But no matter who or what he was, he had just saved her life.  
    “Actually, I could use a hand,” she told him, and found it wasn’t a lie. Her legs didn’t want to cooperate.
    At once he grasped her by the elbow and steadied her as she climbed to her feet. He let go immediately once she was upright. Then she reached up to untie the grimy piece of shirt that shielded her mouth and nose.
    “Thank you,” she said. How pitifully inadequate. But she didn’t know what else to say.
    “So now you know,” he replied.
    His voice sounded the same, maybe a bit deeper. And those were definitely his black eyes looking down at her from the alien planes of his face. As she stared up at him, she saw something flicker in his expression. Dismay? Regret? Hard to say — his form was definitely humanoid, but his features couldn’t have been called human by any stretch of the imagination.
    She forced a smile. “Since when do demons play angel?”
    He remained impassive. “I couldn’t leave you where you were. Who else was there to help?”
    Who, indeed. She’d heard sirens off in this distance, but whether they could have reached her in time was debatable at best. Somehow she doubted simple expediency was his only motive, but demanding an explanation for his actions seemed a shabby reward. “Still, it was an amazing thing that you did.”
    Once more she saw that hint of disquiet in his eyes. “More than you know. Mortals are not supposed to see our true forms.”
    Her mind latched onto the most easily comprehensible part of his statement. “‘Our’?” she repeated. “So there are more of you?”
    “Many more.” He paused, then added, “You would never have seen me at all, if I hadn’t decided to approach you in my human guise. You are not a woman who need fear a demon.”
    At first she wasn’t sure what he meant. Realization came as she remembered that he’d referred to himself as a bounty hunter. “That’s why you’re here? To — to catch souls?”
    He nodded.  
    Without even knowing exactly why she did so, she took a step toward him. He stood very still, the enormous bat-like wings folded close to his back.    
    She asked, her voice barely above a whisper, “Why?”
    Something like a shudder moved through his body. He reached out and took her hands in his oversized, leathery ones. His flesh felt hot against hers, as if his core temperature was far, far warmer than a human’s. Then he turned her hands palm up. Deliberately, he lifted her right hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against the soot-covered palm, then did the same with her left.
    “That’s why,” he said, and immediately dropped both her hands and turned away.
    If she’d tried to move, her knees might have given way once more. Instead, she stood in place, her palms burning with the memory of those kisses.
    Back still to her, he spoke. “I must leave you now. It’s bad enough that you’ve seen me; I cannot risk anyone else doing the same. I could take on my human form again, but as my clothing is at least three miles from here, I think a human shape would cause its own set of problems. It’s something of a hike, but if you follow Mount Lee downward until you reach Mulholland Drive, you’ll get to civilization in less than an hour.”
    Somehow she found her voice. The words sounded pitiful even as she spoke them. “You’re leaving me here?”
    He did not move. “I must face the consequences of my actions.”
    That cryptic statement delivered, he spread his wings outward and took to the air. Warm winds swirled around him, and then he was gone. Felicia barely had time to notice how he immediately took refuge in the smoke cloud that had risen above the Hollywood Hills before he disappeared from sight altogether.
    For a few