EPILOGUE
024
Two weeks later
 
It was a beautiful night, cool and fresh and filled with fireflies and magic. There was nothing better than evening in upstate New York in the summertime. Sitting in the porch rocker, sipping a bottle of Finger Lakes Chardonnay with the man she loved by her side, watching Sam and Jace walk hand in hand through the fields in front of Father Paul’s house in the setting sun—it was almost possible for Emma to forget this had ever been a place of sadness for her.
It helped, of course, that her demon mark was under control, fed by love instead of violence, and as dormant as it had ever been. It was also nice that the few kids presently in Father Paul’s care—twelve-year-old twin girls and a five-year-old boy—weren’t particularly depressing cases. The girls suffered pain associated with their demon marks, but only when they were apart for too long, and the boy—an energy vampire much like herself—had, amazingly, learned to feed on plants. His hunger resulted in dead trees sprinkled throughout the forest behind the house, but the group home needed wood for the stove anyway.
Andre and Jace had already felled some of the trees for the aging Father Paul, putting up enough firewood to last the coming winter and beyond. And Father Paul . . . he’d been as amazing as ever. He’d welcomed her back without any anger or resentment, bringing home that “Prodigal Son” Bible lesson he was so fond of in a decidedly personal way. Once Sam and Jace had joined them there—Jace deciding it would be wise for the remaining, loyal Conti bounty members to lie low until the police finished their investigation of the arson at the Conti offices and the “disappearances” of half the Conti staff—the time upstate had felt almost like a vacation.
Suddenly, the front door slammed open and an angry Ginger in a borrowed blue dress stormed out the door and down the porch steps. A second later, Michael Conti slammed after her. “Ginger, wait. I’m ... I’m sorry!”
Almost like a vacation, if that vacation involved purging one of your best friends of a minor aura demon possession with disgusting things like saltwater cleanses, mud baths, and a strict vegetarian diet that had Emma jonesing for a big hunk of meat.
“Just leave me alone. I want to go for a walk. By myself!” Ginger called over her shoulder, freezing when she saw Emma and Andre on the porch. “Oh . . . sorry, guys. I . . .” Her blue eyes glazed for a moment before sharpening once more. “I just need to take a walk. Will you tell Big Brother over there that it’s okay if I take a walk?”
“It’s okay if she takes a walk, Mikey,” Emma said.
“But it’ll be dark soon, and she always gets lost in the woods,” he said, driving a frustrated hand through his dark curls. His hair was even wavier than Andre’s. “I’m only trying to—”
“Then I’ll walk in the field! Just give me some room.” Ginger was much stronger and saner than she’d been when they arrived, but Michael was still extremely protective.
“Fine! But if you pass out, don’t expect me to come carry you back to the house.”
“Fine!” Ginger yelled.
“Fine!” Mikey yelled back before spinning on his heel and storming back into the house. Ginger stared after him for a second, regret in her big blue eyes, before she turned back to Emma. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Save me a glass of that, will you?”
“Sure.” Emma watched Ginger turn and head into the gently waving grass. Beside her, Andre laughed beneath his breath. “What’s so funny?” Emma asked, turning back to him, marveling again at how handsome he looked in jeans and a slightly wrinkled white button-up with rolled-up sleeves.
He was beautiful, perfect, and he was hers. Tonight he’d sleep in her bed, make love to her until she was sure she’d never come down from the high of being with him. And then they’d fall asleep tangled up in each other. They’d wake up just as tangled, and the first thing he’d do was smile, a grin so bright and full of hope that she knew he felt the same way she did: that his life had become a beautiful dream and he didn’t ever, ever want to wake up.
“I think they’ve got a thing for each other,” Andre said, nodding toward Ginger. “Her and Mikey.”
Emma cocked her head, skeptical. “Really? They seem . . . mutually annoyed.”
“First sign of infatuation.”
“Really?” Emma smiled around the edge of her glass as she took another sip of liquid deliciousness. Andre was right; wine was way better than beer.
“Pretty soon he’ll be telling her that her nails are filthy,” he said, nearly making Emma snort her drink through her nose. “And she’ll be telling him he’s a vain asshole with an eyebrow-waxing obsession. Next thing you know ... they’ll be engaged.”
“Is that how it works?” she asked, laughing as he brought their joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to each of her not-quite-as-filthy nails.
“Yes.” Andre squeezed her hand, a promise that his kisses would continue at length as soon as they were alone. “Just wait and see.”
Emma turned back to the field. Ginger had caught up with Sam and Jace. The three of them stood at the far edge of the property, where the hill sloped down and the valley opened up in a view Emma wished her sister could see. Still, Sam didn’t seem to need anything else to make her happy—even sight. She had Jace, and she had a secret of her own, one she hadn’t told anyone but Emma. Emma had promised she wouldn’t tell anyone, but surely “anyone” didn’t include her future husband.
“I have secret knowledge, too, you know.” Emma leaned in to whisper her next words near Andre’s ear. “Sam thinks she’s knocked up.”
“Knocked up?”
“Pregnant.” Emma rolled her eyes.
“I know what it means,” he said with a laugh, “but you don’t call it ‘knocked up’ when the man and woman are married.”
“Sure you do. It sounds sexier that way.” Emma leaned back in her chair, smiling. It felt like all she did was smile these days. But it was hard not to. She’d never been so happy, couldn’t believe this was her life and she was going to spend the rest of it with the best friend she’d ever had. A best friend who was also an amazing lover and maybe, one day, would be the father of her own children. The thought made her smile grow even wider. “When I’m pregnant I’m going to tell everyone that my old man knocked me up.”
He snorted. “Sounds like I beat you.”
“Does not. It’s nice.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m awesome,” she said, pleased when he laughed even louder and pulled her into his lap. “You’re just too old-fashioned.”
“If I were that old-fashioned, you’d be sleeping alone, little girl.” He nuzzled his face into her neck, kissing her bare skin, making her shiver.
“If Father Paul catches you sneaking into my room, I still might be, old man.” She turned and kissed him, licking the buttery sweetness of the wine from his lips until he moaned.
“I love you,” he whispered against her mouth.
“I love you, too. Want to go for a walk in the woods?”
“But everyone else is walking in the field,” he said, pulling back to gaze up into her eyes.
“Exactly.” She winked, and he smiled, and in minutes they were racing each other to the trees, eager to continue conquering their demons together.