Her words aggravated him even more.
She lifted her hand to her side, presenting the room. “You haven’t even said if you like the new look. A little darker. A little bleaker. I designed it to match my heart.”
“Tell me where he is.”
“I don’t have to tell you,” she said. “Ficorn!”
A fallen, nearly twice Treycore’s size, dressed in a leather harness and black slacks entered from a nearby doorway. Like all Vera’s slaves, he wore a metal collar, indicating that he was her property. His chest was covered in curly hair, and his hands were tainted with scars from years of labor in Heaven. Treycore remembered Ficorn from his time in this place. On many occasions, he had caught the fallen’s seductive glances, attempting to lure him from his fidelity with Vera.
Ficorn stood tall and erect, like a soldier awaiting instruction.
“If you would get Kid for my love, I would be most appreciative.”
Hearing her refer to him as her love burned his ears and stung at his chest.
Ficorn nodded and headed back through the doorway.
“Come, sit,” she said.
He didn’t move.
“Suit yourself.”
She walked along the table, grazing her fingernails, painted silver to match her scarf, across the tabletop. The click of her heels was painfully slow, reminding Treycore of how much time she was wasting. Like she had all eternity to torture him.
“So, Treycore… tell me what sort of adventure brought you here. Judging by your skimpy attire, I can’t imagine it was the simplest feat in the world.”
“I went to Eilee.”
Vera stopped and started to turn to him, revealing a serious expression—one without a trace of the previous amusement it had held. Her fingers curled, as if she wanted to bury them into the tabletop, then her expression returned to a smile and she continued along the side of the table.
“Eilee? Funny. I imagined you would have rather been killed than have to endure the embarrassment of facing her again.”
“I wanted to get to Kid more.”
She turned to him, her gaze meeting his. “I see.”
“Vera,” Ficorn said as he came back into the room.
Kid stood before him, his pasty body packed with muscle in the miniscule loincloth Vera had allowed him to wear. His brown hair lay flat against his forehead, stopping just over his eyes as he stared forward like a person who’d been traumatized by a horrifying event.
Treycore hurried to him.
Ficorn stepped back as Treycore approached and threw his arms around his mortal lover.
“Oh, Kid. What has she done to you?”
Kid didn’t reciprocate his affection.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Treycore pulled away and looked into his eyes.
“Kid? Kid, what is it?”
Kid stared at him, the gaze in those brown irises he’d once seen so full of indignation and fury were now still, lifeless.
Treycore turned to his nemesis. “What have you done to him?”
