My stomach roiled. If my mother knew I was here, she’d stir in her grave. If there was one thing she’d taught me, it was that demons were the most serious threat to my safety. I didn’t know why she’d taken me and run— or why she’d left my sister behind with the coven— but the fact that a demon’s magical imprint had been found near her body was suspicious as hell to say the least.
I pushed that thought away. I didn’t know if demons could smell fear, but it seemed likely. Either way, walking around with my heart thumping in terror would mark me as a victim to every paranormal here. I’d do a loop of the room, paying careful attention to the alcoves, and if I didn’t find Vercan… maybe I could pretend to be a waitress.
I snorted, ignoring the glance a light fae woman shot me as she approached the sinks, pulling a tube of lipstick out of her purse. She wore a dress that looked painted on, with diamonds glittering from her pointed ears. Her long, blonde hair almost touched her butt, and she gave her reflection a satisfied nod before she strode out.
I’d be satisfied too if I looked like that.
Drying my wrists, I pushed my hair back and firmed my shoulders. Time to get it done.
I pushed the bathroom door open before I could change my mind, ignoring the little voice in my head that urged me to haul-ass out of here, order a Lyft, and crawl under my favorite blanket with my cat.
I canted my head, using my hair as a shield as I swayed my hips, heading toward the area with the darkened alcoves.
Nothing.
My steps faltered as I glanced away from the alcoves, toward a table where a demon sat alone at a table on the outskirts of the room. My pulse raced as my vision narrowed until all I could see was him.
Gotcha.
Vercan was staring into his drink, his face set in a scowl. The demon was handsome, but unlike most demons, who practically radiated sin, Vercan looked like a banker.
His blonde hair was cut short, his face clean-shaven, and his mouth was pinched in what either disapproval or contempt. He pushed his drink away as he got to his feet, and I forced myself to keep moving. Leaning against the nearest wall in an effort to appear nonchalant, I watched beneath my lashes as he headed toward the bathroom.
Vercan stopped at one of the curtained alcoves and glanced at his watch. He was obviously waiting for someone, and he stared out the open, floor-to-ceiling window across from the alcove as he waited. With most of his visitors either winged or powerful enough to fly, Samael obviously wasn’t concerned about health and safety.
I jolted into motion as Vercan stepped into the small space and pulled one of the curtains shut behind him. He was clearly meeting someone here, but until that person showed up, this was my chance.
I strode after him, pushed the curtain back open and waltzed inside like I owned the place. Vercan frowned at me, nonplussed, but from the disdain in his eyes, he obviously didn’t see me as a threat.
Good.
I got straight to business.
“December 18h, 72AP,” I rattled off. “Almost two and a half years ago.” I pulled the picture out of my pocket and held it up in front of his face. “You were seen near this woman. Did you kill her?”
Surprise flashed across his face, but I was focusing on his eyes. And I saw the recognition.
“You know who she is.”
“Leave, witch, or die.” His dismissal grated, and he glanced past me impatiently, obviously still waiting for whoever he was meeting.
I didn’t have time for this. I glanced around, but we were hidden from view of everyone else in the main room, so I reached for my Nim Cub. It was nestled against the demon’s throat before he could move.
Something rustled behind him. Something I was pretty certain were his wings. For the first time, he tensed.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s the problem with having a security team. You get lazy. You don’t recognize a threat when you see one.”
“You’re waving a weapon around in Samael’s territory? You’re either suicidal or insane.”
I gave him a wide smile. “Neither. I’m desperate. And since you’re rather long-lived, you’ll know that my desperation makes me dangerous to you.”
Vercan stayed silent and I pressed the knife closer to his throat. He tensed, and I drew blood. He didn’t need a weapon. According to my research, Vercan wasn’t high on the power scale, but he was still bigger than me, stronger than me, and if I couldn’t anticipate his moves, I was dead. Samael probably wouldn’t even punish the demon, since I’d threatened him first.
“Uh-uh,” I crooned. “The woman. Tell me what you know and I’ll get out of here.”
He didn’t take his eyes off me. “You’re writing your own death sentence over a witch who has been dead for this long?”
