“This has been in my family since the 13th century. Inherited silver, as you may know, Miss Harrow, is a powerful conduit and amplifier of intentions.”
He reached into his pants pocket and took out what looked like a small gold snuffbox, but I could smell the salt.
“This is not so old. I have it imported directly from the Himalayas.” Using his thumbnail, he flicked the top off, revealing pink granules. “I’ve found that it is highly effective when combined with my venom.”
Holding the ring under his left fang, he caught a pearlescent drop, then dipped the ring into the salt and pressed it under Amabel’s left eye. Her scream merged with the stink of burning rot and the sizzle of salt eating through her corrupted flesh to create quite a sensory symphony.
“Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll keep the salt on the outside of your skin,” Lucian offered in a silky voice.
“Lesson Twelve,” I muttered without thinking.
His head tilted just slightly, a predator approving of its cub being clever.
Amabel remained silent. Another drip. Another dip. Another burn. Her spine arched like a compound bow.
By the time her confession poured out, she looked like a kindergartner had gone crazy with a stamp and a red inkpad. She didn’t know much, but we learned a few things. Most interesting was her description of Arabesque’s acquisitions from her new pet mage-smith, although Amabel didn’t know his name or face.
Fuckingfinally, Lucian moved to Amabel’s side and laid his hand over her sternum.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Harrow.”
The crack echoed like winter branches snapping, and her head lolled.
“Clean work,” I smirked as blood fountained like a geyser from the hole in her chest cavity. “You’ll demo that move at the next family reunion, I hope?”
“Dispose of the remains before sunset.” He dropped the beating heart into the crucible like it was a used tissue. “A Dark witch’s blood becomes toxic after twelve hours.”
“We know, Pops,” I assured him with an eye roll. “Lesson Three Thousand.”
Koa began disassembling Amabel’s corpse while I got the fire going. Lucian wiped his hands on his monogrammed linen hanky.
I wondered if Seri would chase away the nightmares tonight with her moonlight touch. Oh, not because of Amabel. That monster now burned in hell where she belonged. It was the one rolling down his sleeves, casual as you please, who would haunt us tonight.
#
Nothing bonds brothers quite like mopping up torture debris. Ko shoveled Amabel’s organs into our crucible, face blanker than a tax auditor’s personality. I nudged a charred finger bone deeper into the flames with the tip of my boot, making embers swirl upward like pissed-off fireflies.
“Remind me again why we didn’t install that acid bath I blueprinted last year?”
“Because dissolving enemies requires patience.” Lucian didn’t look up from refastening his gold cufflinks. “And patience has never been your strong suit.”
“Patience is for priests and politicians.” I watched Amabel’s eyeballs pop like blister packs in the flames. “When I want someone dead, I want the whole damn world to smell ’em cooking.”
The vampire king’s lips twitched. Not a smile.Nevera smile. More like a shark noticing blood in the water.
The crucible gurgled as the silence between the three of us stretched taut enough to hang laundry on. Behind us, the firelight made our shadows dance on the walls, monstrous shapes that looked too much like the things we’d been before Seri.
“Barbecue tonight? I can wear my apron. The one that says, ‘I rub my meat before I stick it in,’ ” I offered, pretending not to notice the faint tremor in my fingers as Lucian’s shoulder brushed mine on his way to the door.
“Domestication hasn’t dulled your vulgarity, I see.”
“Domestication?” I barked out a laugh. “Shit, old man, Seri’s got me housebroken, not declawed.” I jabbed the bone saw toward the last meaty pile. “Pass me that femur, Ko, like a good little Dracula.”
The crucible chose that moment to release a bubble that popped with the distinct pitch of a duck’s quack. Ko’s shoulders shook silently, and I grinned.
“I’ll send contractors to install proper disposal systems tomorrow,” Lucian sighed.
“Tell ’em to make it look like a pizza oven!” I called after his retreating back.
