“I’ll show myself out.” She rose stiffly, ignoring his offered hand and refusing to even meet his eyes. “Don’t look for me for a while, please.”
“Mags… I never meant…”
“I know,” she sighed. “I know, okay? Just...leave me be.”
Luce watched her go, something like grief twining around his heart and squeezing. He wanted to chase after her, to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness, but she needed space, not pressure.
She was right. He needed to look hard at his motivations and behavior. In the meantime, he had something else to investigate, and it was the source of the disturbance sending alarm bells through his nervous system.
The Eyes of Lucifer, while expected to perform a variety of duties, were best described as the Advance Guard. They did reconnaissance for the King, kept the peace among the newly deceased, and formed the first line of defense in the event of a siege. To join the ranks was an honor among demonkind, andthe Captain Overseer was notoriously particular about who met his strict criteria.
The crown jewel in this formidable order of demons was an elite class of warriors known as the Aogyn Fun Toyt—the Eyes of Death. This was an honor reserved for demons who had gone above and beyond, demonstrating advanced skill and innate prowess, who set the standard for all the Eyes to aspire to. Only ten demons had ever earned this designation, and only six of those still served.
Zajezjahval was one of them, and he took extreme pride in this achievement. It was a position of dignity and power that marked him as one of the best and entitled him to certain privileges and special missions. It also made him responsible for submitting status reports directly to their boss, Balthazar, on in this case, his second in command.
“Master Judas,” Zaj swept into a bow, which was somewhat diminished by the fact that he was hovering several feet off the ground.
“Ew, no,” Judas screwed up his face in distaste, leaning back in Bal’s chair and kicking his boots up on the desk. “Does Bal make you call him that? Prick. Just call me Judas.”
“Of course,” Zaj straightened with a disapproving sniff. “I’ve just been to receive the updates from the Eyes, would you prefer I start with the status of the Pit, or the mortal realm?”
“Whichever is less boring,” Judas waved his hand with a sigh, angling the chair even further back so he was looking up at the high ceilings. “I hate the mindless shit, where the hell is Bal anyway?”
“Master Balthazar is in the mortal realm, attending to matters of?—”
“I don’t actually care,” Judas interrupted, dropping his chin to fix Zaj with a bored look. “Cut to the chase, please.”
A hard knock at the doorway interrupted them, and Lucifer poked his head into the room.
“Oh,” he blinked. “I was looking for Bal.”
“Mortal realm,” Judas explained, his tone conveying his disinterest.
“That could work in our favor, actually. Zajezjahval?—”
“Please, your highness, call me Zaj.”
“Zaj,” Luce amended. “I have need of your boss, and I was hoping you might pass a message along to him.”
“Consider it done,” Zaj bowed. “You should hear from him within the hour.”
“Perfect,” Luce smiled, but a tinge of anxiety crept into the edges, and soon wiped the grin from his face. Hopefully an hour wouldn’t be too late.
Chapter Nineteen
“Hi, yeah, get me a venti smoked butterscotch latte,nofoam,withalmond milk, 2 pumps butterscotch, 2 pumps toffee nut,extrabutterscotch topping and whipped cream, okay?”
Michael blinked rapidly at the highly teased platinum blonde hair standing in front of him in line. This was acoffeeshop, right? What in the name of Jehovah did this woman just order?
“Ma’am,” the cashier said flatly, smiling, the look in her tired hazel eyes screaming that she’d rather be anywhere else. “This isn’t a Starbucks.”
“So?”
The barista blinked slowly. Michael could feel a barely contained anger emanating from her, but the customer ahead of him seemed none the wiser.
“So,” the cashier said cheerfully, “we don’t have a size venti. Your options are regular or large, and we don’t do smoked butterscotch here.”
“So just smoke the normal butterscotch,” the woman snapped, as if it was common sense and she was wasting her breath explaining it. Michael frowned, brow furrowing. He was pretty sure it didn’t work that way.
