“It wards against curses,” Elyse replied.
Julian touched the necklace, letting the chain slide between his fingers as he inspected it. “Pretty, but the other artifacts are priceless.” He let it drop so it dangled once again from Elyse’s hand. “This is exquisite, but not invaluable.”
Elyse’s outstretched hand remained steady, her face calm. “I’ll throw in a phoenix replica for one of those morons if they win,” she said, jerking her chin toward the twins.
“Done,” Norvick said at the same time Nathaniel shouted, “Let her play.”
Amusement glimmered in Julian’s eyes before he turned to face the rest of the players. “Is anyone opposed?”
Thomas reclined in his chair. “She’s no threat to me,” he said as he raked Elyse with his gaze. Killian fisted his hands, resisting the urge to punch him.
“The more the merrier,” Death purred.
Julian turned his attention to Killian. “And you, Mr. Southwick?”
Killian felt a power over Elyse like he never had before. He didn’t look at her, but he could feel her eyes burning through him as she waited for his agreement. Of course, it was a false sense of power. If he denied her, she would flay him as soon as he set foot back in Sevhella.
“It’s all right with me,” he said nonchalantly.
Julian’s eyes crinkled with delight. “Then allow me to present the remainder of the selection,” he said as he moved swiftly toward the second table, the one covered in a velvet cloth.
In a grand gesture, he whipped the cloth away and let it fall to the dusty floor, revealing a glass encasement. Through the glass, Killian spotted two books, an envelope, a tattered piece of parchment, and of course, a knife.
The Blade of Hanael was breathtaking. It was shaped almost like an eagle’s talon, with a slight curve and a sharply pointed end. The blade itself was made of a pale, silvery metal, one that Killian couldn’t place. The handle was a stormy gray etched with intricate designs that shimmered wildly, even in the dim light. Killian yearned to touch it, to feel its weight for himself and testits edge. He took a step closer, inspecting it for nicks or signs of use, but he found it immaculate.
Julian took a key from the inner breast pocket of his jacket and fitted it into a lock on the top of the glass. With ease, he raised the glass top of the case until it rested at an angle against the stone wall behind it. Killian and the rest of the room leaned closer to get a better look. Even Elyse seemed entranced by the cache.
“The necklace, please,” Julian crooned to Elyse, holding out his hand.
Without taking her gaze off the Blade of Hanael, she obeyed, tossing him the curse-repellent necklace. Julian laid it atop the velvet among the rest of the objects.
“In addition to the necklace Madame Crenshaw has provided,” Julian said, turning to face the group, “we have several other items to choose from tonight. Mr. Veneer has provided the original recipe for transportation potion.” His slender, manicured fingers indicated the worn parchment.
Killian furrowed his brows. Why would anyone want a copy of a recipe for something so easily produced? Surely it was worth something as a collectible, but not priceless. It wasn’t even in good condition. The ink was smudged and illegible in places, and it appeared to have several burn marks marring the instructions.
He must have been wearing his confusion plainly, because Death leaned toward him and whispered, “It is claimed that the original recipe can transport its master not only from one place to another, but between worlds.”
Killian looked up to find her gaze on him, assessing him with mild curiosity. “So the one we use now has been diluted over time? Lost in translation?”
“Precisely,” Death said with a nod.
Killian returned his attention to the case, peering at the next objects: two books nearly identical to one another, wrapped in aged black leather, their edges frayed. He had a good guess who had provided those.
“Nathaniel and Norvick have offered the Midnight Grimoire and the Obsidian Grimoire, respectively,” Julian said, confirming Killian’s suspicions.
Grimoires—Killian had heard the term used before. Ancient spellbooks, usually full of dark, powerful magic lost to common knowledge. He wondered if there was anything useful about trapping and killing a demon in either of the books.
“Mr. Southwick will be playing for the departed Niall Royce, who provided the Blade of Hanael before his untimely passing,” Julian said with a skeptical glance toward Elyse. He likely believed her to be the reason for the “untimely passing,” just as Killian did.
Thomes frowned at the mention of the Blade. “Ridiculous,” he muttered. “Demons are incorporeal. Everyone knows it. That knife is pointless.”
Julian’s lips pressed into a firm line at Thomes’s snark. The twins both shot Thomes glares, obviously appalled at his blasphemy, and Elyse rolled her eyes. Death said nothing, though her pale jaw spasmed almost imperceptibly.
“And Madame Death,” Julian continued, not addressing Thomes’s outburst, “has provided a letter that will tell its reader when their death will occur.”
Killian was instantly intrigued, but before he could ponder whether or not he would want to know the date of his death, the goddess herself spoke up.
“Actually, Jules,” she said, her voice taking on a saccharine tone, “if we’re making changes, I have a proposition.” She reached into her cloak, her pale hands swallowed by a darkness that seemed too stark, too tangible, and retrieved a small chest wrapped in chains and secured with a heavy lock.
