“What kind of auction?”
He heaved a sigh. “Every Tuesday at the old train station.”
The old train station was a rehabilitated warehouse, built by the American Tobacco Company in the late eighteen hundreds. The building had stood for over a hundred and twenty years until the portals opened and a group of fleeing citizens used it for shelter. A pack of rampaging werewolves knocked down a wall, killed the humans, and then pulled up most of the tracks.
The building was falling to pieces and most people gave it a wide berth. A perfect place for an illegal auction.
For a fae artifact to be stolen and sold, multiple people had to be involved. Someone had to steal it, someone needed to authenticate it, and someone else had to calculate its value. Only then, if a private buyer wasn’t already lined up— or if the seller knew for sure it would result in a bidding war, the artifact would be sold at auction. Mariam’s missing fae artifacts needed to be passed onto a buyer quickly. I was betting at least some of them were being sold at that auction.
“What time does it start?”
David lowered his brow and leaned closer. “You don’t want to go near those people, missy. They’ll kill you as soon as look at you.”
I gave him my best ass-kicker stare and he heaved a sigh. “Your funeral. Starts at midnight. But you need a ticket to get in, and something tells me you’ll be noticed.”
“I’ll take care of that.”
14
Danica
By the time I was finished speaking to the bladesmith, the cleaning company was closed. Movement darted across my peripheral vision and I scanned the empty sky.
That was it.
I drove back to Samael’s, spurred on by sheer rage. My vision had narrowed, and I double parked, threw the keys to the valet, and stalked into the lobby.
“Where is he?”
Bael was deep in conversation with a dark fae who looked amused by my obvious wrath. I ignored him, waiting until Bael raised his eyebrow. “His penthouse.”
Good. I wanted privacy for this conversation.
I took the elevator up, strode through the living space, and pushed open the door to Samael’s office.
He was sitting behind his desk, his sleeves rolled up, a pen in his hand. The king of the demons did paperwork. The sight made me choke on my words for a moment.
He lifted his head, surprise and pleasure flickering across his face for the barest second before his expression went blank.
“Danica. I didn’t know you were planning to visit.”
“This isn’t a social call.”
He unfolded himself from behind his desk, slowly stretching out his huge frame. He reminded me of a panther getting up after a nap.
“What is it I can do for you?”
"I want you to stop having your people follow me around."
"It's for your own safety."
“I’m serious, Samael, I want them gone.”
He stared at me silently for a long moment. I threw up my hands. “Why do you care so much, anyway?”
He took a step closer. I took a step back. I didn’t need his cedar and citrus scent winding around me.
“I find that the idea of you being hurt… discomforts me.”
