“Auric.” He says it like I should know the name. When I don’t react, his smile widens slightly. “I serve the House of Gold. Lord Croesus sent me to ensure you’ll be reporting as required.”
The words hit like a bucket of ice water. I force myself to stay calm, to keep my expression neutral even though my heart is trying to climb out of my throat. “I got the letter. I’ll be there at the required time.”
“Tomorrow.” He glances at his watch —expensive, gold, of course. “Twelve hours and thirty-two minutes, to be precise.”
“Great. So you can leave, and I’ll see you in twelve hours and thirty-two minutes.”
“I’m afraid it’s not quite that simple.”
“Seems pretty simple to me. Letter said three days. I show up in three days. Math checks out.” I try to close the door again. He still doesn’t budge. “Are you going to let go of my door, or do I need to get creative?”
His smile takes on an edge. Amused, but with teeth underneath. “Creative how? You’re not armed. Your closest weapon is...” He tilts his head slightly, like he’s listening to something I can’t hear. “There is a kitchen knife in the drawer to your left, and a ritual athame in the back room. Both iron, but you’d have to reach them first. And I’m faster than you.”
The casual assessment makes my skin crawl. “You’ve been watching me.”
“Lord Croesus has been watching you. I’m simply here to deliver a message.”
“The letter was the message.”
“The letter was an invitation. This is a clarification.” He finally lets go of the door, but doesn’t step back. Just stands there in my doorway, taking up space like he has every right to be here. “You have until noon, not a minute later. The entrance will be at the First National Bank downtown, vault seven. You’ll know which one.”
“The letter didn’t specify a time.”
“I’m specifying it now. Noon. Sharp.” His amber eyes lock on mine, and there’s something hypnotic about them. Something that makes it hard to look away. “Lord Croesus doesn’t appreciate tardiness.”
I force myself to hold his gaze, even though every instinct is telling me to look down, to submit, to acknowledge that he’s more powerful than me. “And I don’t appreciate supernatural stalkers showing up at my apartment. Guess we’re both disappointed.”
That gets a laugh out of him. Genuine, surprised. “You’re mouthy. I like that. Most humans cower when they meet me.”
“I’m not most humans.”
“No,” he agrees, studying me with an interest that makes me deeply uncomfortable. “You’re not. Angel-blooded, fourth generation if the records are correct. Enough to resist basic compulsion, enough to break contracts. Not enough to actually fight me if I dragged you to the house right now.”
My hand twitches toward where my knife usually is. He notices, of course. Notices and finds it amusing.
“Relax, little sin eater. I’m not here to drag you anywhere. Just to deliver the message and make sure you understand the consequences of noncompliance.”
“Let me guess. You’ll come back, and you won’t be as nice?”
“Oh, I’d come back. But it wouldn’t be me you’d need to worry about.” He leans against the doorframe, casual as anything. Like we’re old friends chatting. “Lord Croesus hasbeen very patient with you. Gave you three days to get your affairs in order, say your goodbyes, prepare yourself. That’s more consideration than most inheritors receive. But his patience has limits.”
“What happens if I’m late?”
“Then I come to collect you. And your sister.” He says it so casually, so matter-of-factly, that it takes a second for the words to register. “Luna, isn’t it? Nineteen, a sophomore at State, environmental science major. Pretty girl. Shame if something happened to her because you couldn’t tell time.”
The rage hits like white fire. I’m moving before I can think, shoving past him into the hallway, getting in his face even though he’s got six inches and probably a hundred pounds on me. “You stay the fuck away from her.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch. Just looks down at me with the same amused expression. “Then be on time.”
“I’ll be there at noon. But if you or Croesus or anyone from the House of Gold goes near my sister?—”
“You’ll what?” He’s not mocking me. Just genuinely curious. “Break a contract? You already do that. Fight me? We both know how that ends. Run?” He shakes his head slowly. “There’s nowhere you can go that we won’t find you. The House of Gold has eyes everywhere. Literally. Every transaction, every dollar that changes hands, every coin that falls, Croesus sees it. You think you can hide from that?”
I don’t answer. Because he’s right, and we both know it.
“But,” he continues, his tone softening slightly, “if you show up on time, fulfill your contract, serve your year with good faith, then your sister remains exactly as she is. Ignorant, safe, living her normal little life. That’s the deal.”
“That’s the threat.”
