I turn back to the group, not sure what to do. “A little warning would have been nice, Prek,” I lob, irritated with the jumpstart my heart just got when a demon—correction, half demon—opened the door.
“I didn’t know,” Prek defends, and I narrow my gaze at him.
“He has silver eyes,” Elon counters, like that alone should have given the pompous ass away.
“What? No. He has brown eyes, looks Italian or Spanish, definitely not demonic at all,” Prek argues.
Elon and I look at each other, baffled.
“They can’t see through my glamour, doll. If the laws are being abided, then you two shouldn’t be able to either...interesting,” he purrs, his eyes flitting from me to Elon, a hint of curiosity in his quirked brow. “Are you coming in or not, I have better things to do than stand here all day,” the demon calls out through his still open door, and I huff out a sigh.
He’s an arrogant shit, but he is our only lead.
I move to step into the apartment, but Rogan stops me and instead takes point, striding in first. The rest of us follow in after him, and the door shuts of its own volition behind us, making me jump. The room is a hybrid between a lounge and a library. Walls of books on built-in, dark wood bookcases line the room. The floor is the same rich dark color, and so is the ceiling. Color is sprinkled about the space through the spines of different books and glass antique lamps. Four dark green velvet couches are arranged in a square in the middle of the room, with a large coffee table at the center that’s covered in ledgers, chronicles, and volumes of all sorts.
The demon carefully pours water into a tea cup from a tray at his side. After dropping a cube of sugar into the same cup, he starts stirring it, settling in at the corner of one of the couches, not bothering to offer the rest of us anything.
“My name is Muda, as I’m sure your associate has informed you,” he announces, jutting his chin in Prek’s direction. “Now, how can I be of service?” he continues, his tone making it clear that he’d rather not be of service at all.
“We’ve had an encounter with a demon—” Rogan states, angling his body so that I’m hidden behind him.
“Yeesss, I gathered that much,” Muda croons bitchily, cutting Rogan off.
My temper flares, and I step to the side so that Rogan isn’t blocking me anymore. “Moopa, is it?” I purr, purposely getting his name wrong.
I scrunch my nose at him like I think he’s just too adorable for words, as I casually run my finger over a side table. I let disgust flash in my eyes, and then I look down at my hand and pretend to discreetly wipe something off of my finger. There isn’t a speck of dust on the table. The whole room is immaculate, but I see Muda’s eyes tighten infinitesimally, and I know I’ve scored one for teamJust the Looks Then.
“I’m sure a sophisticated half demon like yourself is used to dealing with all types, so I want to cut to the chase and save us the opportunity of watching you get your balls waxed later. Nine p.m. sharp, right?” I confirm on a squealy laugh, like I’m nothing more than a vapid troll who speaks the same level of nasty cunt this fucker does. Prek shoots me a concerned look, but I ignore him. Clearly, these guys don’t speak fluent bitch.
Muda raises an eyebrow in a clear invitation togo on, so I stride through the copse of male mancers still standing in the entryway and make myself comfortable on the tufted green velvet sofa across from him.
“Now that we’ve all had a chance to size each other up and find each other desperately wanting,” I begin again, eyeing the half demon up and then down before dismissing him entirely and focusing on his home. I catch Rogan doing an excellent job of hiding the amusement I feel through our tether. Marx shoots me a lightning fast wink before I turn away and offer Muda a pitying look that’s filled with scathing judgment of his living conditions, as though he’s living in a hovel instead of this stunning space that could easily be featured in a magazine. His hand tightens on the spoon he’s stirring his tea with.
“I think it’s important for you to know that you’re staring at five people who have absolutely nothing to lose.Nothing,” I repeat sweetly, and Muda moves to set his tea cup down, like this conversation now has his full attention. “There’s no doubt that your protections and defenses are strong, and I’m sure from the feel you copped when you first opened the door, that you know what you’re up against with us. It would be a good fight, I’m not afraid to say it. You might even win...or, who knows, you might not.Weare prepared to find out. I’m not so sure that you are though,” I tell him calmly, happy to point out these facts. “So, if you’re happy to stop fucking around, we can ask some questions, you can provide the answers, and then we’ll happily hop on our brooms and fly away. You can even keep the mean girl shit up—if the worst thing that happens to me today is you calling me stupid, then it’s been a good day. Mmmmkay?”
Muda stares at me for a beat, sizing me up as though he didn’t see me properly the first time. He sits back and crosses his legs, and that’s all the invitation I need.
“If you would be so kind, would you start by please explaining to us why Elon and I can see past your glamour, but the others can’t?” I ask, mirroring his position on the couch.
“It was a failsafe woven into the magic of the first Demon and Mancer Accords. If a demon violates said Accords and it negatively impacts a mancer or puts them at risk, they gain the ability to see through glamour and sense when a demonic threat is near. It’s a protective measure.”
I look to Elon, thinking of earlier when we both just happened to wake up and had the urge to sit outside. I can tell he’s thinking the same thing, and I file it away to discuss later.
“Is it safe to say that if we are now seeing through glamour and sensing demonic threats, then the demon that’s hunting us isn’t supposed to be?”
Muda stills slightly, and if I wasn’t so homed in on his body language because I suspected it would tell me more than his snotty mouth, I probably would have missed it.
“Demons and mancers have strict laws that govern our interactions. Hunting is only permissible if you were part of a contract or sold as part of a contract,” he declares tightly, and I get the impression that he’s choosing his words very wisely.
“And if I was neither of those things, then this demon would be in violation of the Accords, correct?” I press, trying not to get ahead of myself or feel any kind of hope just yet.
“Correct,” Muda confirms stiffly.
“What happens exactly if the agreements between the two species are disobeyed?” Elon asks, his tone casual, but the gleam in his eyes is ripe with challenge.
Muda clears his throat and smooths his pants in thought for a beat. “Ifthe Accords were breached, then the offending side has a set amount of time to correct the infraction. If they are unable to set things right in the allotted time, concessions are made, concessions that will be felt deeply by the offending party.”
“And how can we prove that an offence against the Accords has taken place?” Prek questions, moving to sit next to me on the couch.
