When she finds herself back in Sioux Falls on a job, a twist of fate puts Evelyn Marshall in the path of the Winchesters and Bobby Singer. With nowhere left to run, the dark secrets in her past and the creatures who've hunted her are about to catch...
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I dropped the helmet to the ground and swore under my breath. Dropping them was about the worst thing you could do. Too many impacts and they were pointless in the face of a serious accident. Just as well I didn't need the damn thing. One collision and I'd have been out for the count.
"They know," I said. "You've got nothing on me, and I've got no reason to stay."
"No reason, perhaps, except that I ordered you to stay close to the Winchesters so that I could find you."
"I don't need to follow your orders. You're a demon. I'm a hunter." I snatched up a gun from my bag and trained it on Crowley. "Which means I should just put a bullet right between your eyes."
"Bullets can't take out the King of Hell."
"Maybe not, but I bet it'll hurt."
Crowley laughed quietly. Not the reaction most men would have when they had a gun on them, but demons weren't like humans. There was nothing left of their original souls, just the dark, twisted thing they'd become after years of torture in the deepest pits of Hell. The demon moved towards me and I took a step back. The room wasn't large enough for a decent fight but I didn't want to give him a chance to corner me.
"I don't have time for this."
Crowley raised a hand and I flew backward and into the wall. Pinned, I couldn't raise my arm to fire the gun or defend myself when he strolled over like he owned the place. We were at eye level, and my skin crawled in sheer revulsion when his putrid breath beat against my face. With all the tenderness of a lover, he tucked my hair behind my ear and plastered a smile to his lips that I might've called kind if I didn't know what he was.
"What do you want from me?" I demanded.
"Well... I can think of a few things, but I don't think you mean those."
"No," I spat. "I don't."
Crowley leaned in so close that his nose brushed mine. He drew in a deep breath, and I avoided doing the same. Demons stank of sulfur and the odour tended to linger. Crowley nodded like he'd discovered something. He stepped away and rubbed his hand against the scrub of beard across his jaw.
"I didn't think you'd be the type to spill your guts to some feathered twit. Was it the big blue eyes, or do you just have a thing for men in trench coats?"
"Go to hell," I snarled.
"Oh, I will, when I'm done with you." Crowley shoved his hands into his pockets. "I told you, darling. You're my obsession. I don't think you understand just how long I've been looking for you."
"I don't understand, and I don't care. Find a new obsession. I just got one problem off my tail; I don't need another. And if you think I'll do anything to hurt the Winchesters–"
"You really have no idea about what you are, do you?" he chuckled softly, vastly amused by this great master plan that I was ignorant of. With a soft sigh, he leaned in close and brushed his nose against my cheek. The hand he placed against my neck made me want to scrub myself raw under boiling water if it would erase the feeling of his touch. In a gentle whisper, he told me, "This is about you, darling. Not the Winchesters. You, and your mother before you, and her mother before her, are mine."
