by Amy Sumida
Luke and I had nearly finished our drinks, and my guys had nearly finished their ranting when Raphael walked in. My men turned toward Raph furiously, and the angel raised his hands to ward them off.
“Whoa!” Raphael declared. “I don't know what I just walked into, but I want no part of it.”
“What is it, Raphael?” Lucifer asked calmly, one arm spread across the back of the couch behind my head.
“You said to come up here after I finished getting clean,” Raph reminded him.
“Oh, yes.” Lucifer cleared his throat and leaned forward. “What's the latest news on the women?”
“I relocated all of the faux-Elarias to Heaven, just as you ordered,” Raphael reported. “They're all secure.”
“Faux-Elarias?” I asked Raph, and he shrugged with an unrepentant grin.
“Thank you,” Lucifer said as he stood. “That's perfect for our purposes.”
“Why is it perfect?” Darc asked.
“Because I'd like to take Elaria to one of the homes of my ex-lovers and lie in wait for an assassin.”
“That's your great idea?” Slate huffed. “Make El look like one of her duplicates and hope someone comes gunning for her?”
“She just blew up the last assassin,” Lucifer pointed out. “As she said earlier; she has no need of our protection.”
I frowned and stared thoughtfully at Slate. Usually, Slate would have been the first man to say what Lucifer had. The thing with Gargo must have really messed with his mind. I hoped he'd get back to normal after we discovered whoever had hired the assassins. I liked Slate's confidence in me; his almost flippant assurance that I could handle myself. I wanted that back.
“And what if that assassin shoots out her throat?” Torin asked grimly.
“I'll have angels posted around the property; we'll know as soon as he arrives and take him down before he fires a single shot,” Lucifer said. “With all our magic and skills, I think we can catch one assassin without Elaria being injured.”
Slate caught me staring at him and something shifted in his gaze. A hint of the old Slate appeared. “Is this what you want to do, El?”
“I think I'd like it better than waiting on Triton,” I admitted.
“You never did like waiting for anything,” Darcraxis said affectionately. “Even when we created worlds together, you rushed ahead with abandon.”
“Maybe you should have taken your time on some things.” Banning looked pointedly at Declan.
“As your god did with you? Millions of years of human evolution and this is what they have to show for it,” Declan declared drolly as he waved an unimpressed hand at Banning.
We all gaped at Declan and then burst into laughter, even Banning.
“Oh, sure, laugh it up,” Cerberus snapped as he entered the room. “I just get back to the zone and what do I hear? You fucking blew up a triton without me! I thought we were friends, El?”
“It was a spur of the moment thing,” I said apologetically. “And a huge mistake. Now, we have to try and trap one.”
Cerberus continued to glower at me.
“Once we get a name out of the assassin, we'll be going hunting the person who hired them,” Gage added. “You can help us kill them if you like.”
“Yeah, okay. It's not as fun as blowing someone up but it'll do,” Cer huffed. “Oh, and by the way, there's a dragon out in the hallway, listening to all of you fight.”
“Damn it, I wanted to be the one to tell them that,” Raph grumbled as King Verin stepped into view.
“Are you spying on us?” I asked in shock.
“I came to offer my services,” Verin said stiffly. “When I heard you arguing, I thought it would be best to wait until clearer heads prevailed.”
“Wow, he actually spoke,” Banning muttered. “In, like, full sentences.”
Verin growl-grunted and grimaced at Banning.
“You want to help me?” I asked in surprise. “Me?”
The Blue Dragon made another rumble, this one sounded like an audible shrug.
“As my dear ol mum used to say; never look a gift dragon in the mouth,” Cerberus declared. “Mainly because it's gross in there.”
I looked at my men, and they nodded. “Very well. Welcome to the team, King Verin.”
Another grunt was all the answer I got.
“He's right; enough talk. When do we leave?” Cerberus asked.
Go figure that Cer would understand the secret language of Verin grunts.
Chapter Forty-Four
Sarah Jane Wilson—doppelganger number six—lived in Williamsport, Indiana, population: 1900. Her home—a 4 bedroom ranch—had a deck that overlooked her partially-forested ten-acre lot. The closest neighbor was two miles away, far out of earshot, and the expanse of land gave us plenty of space to play with and lots of trees for Angels and Shining Ones to perch in. It was the perfect spot to lay our trap.
I leaned against the deck railing, a cup of tea steaming in my hands, as I contemplated the scenery. Beautiful. Quiet. I could get used to the peace of a place like this. We'd been there for three days, waiting for my killer to show his or her face, and finally decided to put me outside on display. It was a risk, but we'd calculated the distance between the deck and the forest and surmised that there wasn't a sharpshooter in the world—or the Beneath—who could hit me from the treeline. The assassin would have to step out of the forest to take his shot. By the time he did that, our soldiers would be closing in on him, and I'd be on my way to trapping him with my song. But in case anything went wrong, my men were just a few feet away from me, watching over me along with Cerberus, Lucifer, and Verin.
It should have been easy to forget that King Verin was there, even when we were bunking in such close quarters. The man was definitely of the strong and silent variety, wasting no words when a grunt would do just fine. And I did my part to ignore him, never glancing at him for more than a few seconds. But every time I did look, I found him staring at me oddly. Odd because it would be drastically different each time. First, he'd look as if he wanted to throttle me and then as if he wanted to throttle himself. I gave up on figuring him out and stopped looking altogether. He was there to help, and I had a feeling that we might need it. In light of that, his staring didn't bother me.
But then there was Lucifer, whose presence was a bit more unsettling. It seemed that all roads led to him lately. I couldn't get away from the guy and most of me didn't want to. Without him, the world would be suffering under Gargo's rule, and I would be dead. Instead, America was moving on; they'd already inaugurated a new president and were in the process of cleaning up the mess my great-grandfather had made. It was a good nation; a strong one. I'd watched it grow and was impressed by the perseverance of its people. But America had nothing on Lucifer Morningstar.
Yep, that guy just doesn't give up, RS commiserated in my head.
What happened to; just add him to the Cock Collective already? I asked.
You said no, she harrumphed. No means no. I'm just trying to be supportive.
Right, Kyanite scoffed.
Hey, maybe I got a little carried away, a little seduced by all the sexy men, RS huffed. But I'm always on Elaria's side.
You're a spell, you can't be seduced, Ky countered.
I'm a lust spell turned into a love spell. I can so be seduced!
You feed on love, that doesn't mean you feel it.
Oh, Ky, I chided. That was mean.
Yeah! RS growled. I feel stuff.
Like what? Ky challenged.
Like the desire to kick your non-existent ass!
All right, you two; ease down, I said. We're supposed to be watching for assassins. I don't want to get shot because I'm distracted by your bickering.
They grumbled into silence.
But then RS shouted, Incoming!
Everyone had a comm unit except for me. I didn't need one with RS and Kyanite serving as my intermediaries. As soon as my guys had been alerted of the approaching assassin, so had I.
Calm down, Kyanite muttered to RS. We're prepared for this.
And we were prepared. The bluesy sound of Fiona Apple's “Slow Like Honey” started rolling around me instantly. I took a sip and set my tea aside, calmly searching for my target as I felt the magic rise to my call. He appeared just as I began to sing. I kept my voice low so my target would think I was merely singing to myself. I didn't want to spook him into fleeing before my song could take effect.
The music coasted across the lawn indolently and wrapped around the triton. A seduction turning into a curse. His legs started to slow as I moaned out the words. His eyes widened, shifting from me to his body, and he began to struggle like a fly caught in a web.
Angels and Shining Ones emerged from the forest and closed in around him. The triton flailed; he was so close to his target. It must have been frustrating to have me in his sights and fail. He didn't know it yet, but he had it better than his predecessors. He, at least, would live. I sauntered to the steps and strolled down from the deck as the men came out of the house to flank me. I kept rolling through the lyrics, slowing the assassin's movements to match the speed of honey, and he—I admit I admired this—kept trying to break my spell.
The triton lifted his hand painfully slow and pointed it at me. No one reacted; we were almost to him, close enough to see that there was nothing in his hand. It was the other hand that held his gun, hanging loosely at his side. But then the assassin curled his fingers and something launched from the top of his wrist. It grew in size as it sailed toward me, and everyone shot forward to defend me from whatever the hell it was.
A net.
Not just any net; a fishing net from the Greek Realm. One of the Tritons' most devious weapons, a net could extend to hold up to five people if they were standing close enough together or it could be cast with precision—as it had been in this instance—and pick a single person out of a crowd. Once wrapped within the confines of a net, a target soon lost consciousness as the bonds tightened like a boa constrictor and cut off the victim's air supply. It also served as a retrieval device and would take its prisoner to any location of the net-caster's choosing.
My song stopped, cut off by the net's constriction, and my eyes widened as the ramifications hit me. The triton launched forward, and I had mere moments to glance to my right and meet Banning's horrified stare.
Then I was gone.
Chapter Forty-Five
Elaria!
My love, you must wake up, Kyanite urged.
But don't open your eyes; just crack 'em a bit so we can get a look at what we're dealing with.
Someone has taken you. We must be wary.
What the hell are you two talking about? I groggily responded to the insanity in my mind.
Come on, think! RS shouted. Get that mind working!
Recall the assassin, my love, Kyanite said more gently. We do not know where you've been taken, but it can't be good.
Did one of you tell the men that I'm alive? I asked.
Yeah, I told them. They're freaking the fuck out. I couldn't deal. I left them to it. Figured I'd go back after you opened your eyes and we find out where the hell you are.
But again; do it just a small bit, Kyanite warned me. I can sense people around you.
Sense? I asked. Can't you two just look for me?
There is no kyanite in this room so my senses are limited to yours.
Like he said, RS huffed. Except I'm limited to you all of the time. You and your hotties. I see through your eyes. So, look, damn it.
I cracked my eyes open; just a slit. I could feel that I was bound and gagged, but my captors hadn't known to subdue my magic nor had they taken the charms on my necklace. Perhaps they didn't have the means to magically bind me, but they should have at least searched me before they tied me up. Amateur mistake.
And Triton assassins aren't amateurs. So, who the hell had me?
I didn't get much from my surreptitious look; just a glimpse of hardwood floor and the shifting shadows of moving legs. Wait. Was that a hoof? A pair of hooves crossed before me, creaking the floor eerily as they left the room. I heard the hoof-steps fade down a hallway.
Fucking Satyrs! RS shouted in my mind. We should have known.
Why come after me now? I asked in bafflement.
We had killed all of the leaders in the Demos Family—the Satyr crime syndicate that had been abducting nymphs to sexually break then sell into slavery. We didn't bother with the Demos underlings who had survived the slaughter, figuring that they wouldn't want to mess with us after they'd seen what we were capable of. As far as we knew, the survivors had either gone into hiding or formed smaller, less-heinous gangs. Apparently, there were a few idiots left who wanted to avenge their old bosses.
“Fuck it,” I grunted around my gag and opened my eyes.
“Boss! She's awake!” A satyr who'd been lounging against the wall opposite my chair—my uncomfortable metal chair—shouted.
I narrowed my eyes at him and started sorting through my song repertoire. I didn't care who his boss was, this was ending today. Permanently.
The click-clack of heels came crisply down the hallway, and I lifted a brow. A woman in charge of satyrs? How interesting. The only woman who'd been capable of controlling those chauvinistic assholes was...
Fuck me, I whispered in my head.
This is indeed surprising, Kyanite added.
No fucking way! That bitch is dead! RS declared.
“I see by your expression—what's visible beyond your extensive gag—that you are shocked to see me alive and well,” Petra said smugly as she stepped into the room with two satyrs. “Sorry about the gag, by the way. My men got a little overzealous about securing you. Can you blame them?”
Petra Demos, the most vile of the Demos Satyrs, was indeed supposed to be dead. My mind spun through my memories, trying to sort out what had happened and make sense of her survival. After we attacked the Demos Family funeral, we went through the bodies to make certain that we'd killed all of the Demos family members. There had been four female bodies that were mangled beyond recognition and five female members of the family to cross off our list. But I had found the final female, and we killed her. So, how was it possible that Petra was standing there alive?
One of those bodies had to be a plant, Kyanite said.
She'd have no way of knowing that we'd be attacking the funeral, I argued.
Either your numbers were off or Petra knew about the attack, RS said. Who the fuck cares right now? We got bigger issues.
“Wondering how I escaped your slaughter?” She sat down in the padded chair before me and crossed her legs primly.
Petra had always looked the part of a proper heiress; clothing impeccable, chestnut hair smoothed into a shiny veil down her back, and tasteful make-up. But behind those brown, puppy dog eyes lurked a monster. A fiend. Petra was capable of far more cruelty, viciousness, and plain old evil than any of her brothers or uncles. And that was saying a lot. The woman skinned people for funsies and then made them into handbags to commemorate the event.
“I have friends who look after me,” she purred. Her dark eyes glittered as she leaned forward. “I used to have family as well, but you murdered them. Most of them were buffoons that I should thank you for killing. Their deaths paved the way to power for me. But you also killed my brother. My twin!”
Petra stood, kicking her chair back as she did, and held her hand out expectantly. One of the satyrs placed the hilt of a thin, sharp blade on her palm. The low lights in the room caught the edge, but I was too busy noticing the table of torture implements behind the man who had handed the blade to her. I'd seen a similar set up once; when I found Peter Demos—the aforementioned twin brother—torturing my friend, Kosmos.
“I'm so glad this latest triton was able to bring you in alive.” Petra stroked the tip of the blade along my eyebrow. “We've been trying to lure you to Earth by killing all of those human women that god altered to look like you. What a pathetic excuse for
a god, by the way. He has divinity, but he debases himself with his lust for you. You're not even that pretty.” She rolled her eyes. “I'll never understand men.”
Petra took a deep, shaking breath and straightened with obvious reluctance. The blade started spinning in her tiny hand as she began to click-clack her way around my chair.
“But I suppose I should thank him. Lucifer gave us the perfect way to get your attention,” she went on. “As expected, the assassinations of your twins drew you out of the safety of Tír na nÓg. I thought it fitting to send Tritons after you; them being your kin and all, and you having killed all of my kin. None of them cared, by the way. Those fish-people are coldblooded. All they wanted to know was how much I was paying.”
