My beast, on the other hand, is delighted. He wants them all to defy me. Killing them would certainly be quicker than my alternative plan.
Abel hasn’t taken his eyes off me but remains on one knee, his leathery wings held close to his sides and draped on the floor.
Very slowly, the others all join him, each of them taking a knee.
I didn’t expect or need them to make such a subservient gesture. They’re following Abel’s lead, and I suppose it has a purpose for now, but it isn’t how I intend to run things. I don’t intend to rule over them with threats of death or violence. Of course, I’ll defend myself if I have to, just as I did with the witch and the warlock in this room, but I’m done with that path.
In fact, my plan is to quietly move each of these supernaturals out of the business. I’ll do it slowly and carefully, and then, when the time is right, they will disappear. In the samefashion that my stepfather did. They will pay for their crimes with assassins’ justice.
“Good,” I say into the silence. “Report back here at noon tomorrow. You will tell me everything I want to know about this company. Now go.”
With backward glances at the bodies of the witch and the warlock, the other four board members leave the room.
I catch sight of my stepsister and Seb waiting in the foyer. My sister’s face, drawn and anxious, relaxes a little when she sees the board members slinking away and me, standing unharmed, beside the table.
Abel rises to his feet. “What are your orders for me, Striker Draven?”
“That depends on who you are.” Suppressing my beast, I return to my fully human form. My regret about ruining the suit pants is even greater now that the damaged material barely hangs on to my waist, but I don’t let it bother me.
He shrugs and reaches toward the upper pocket of his cargo pants but pauses when I tense, and my claws shoot down again.
“My glasses,” he explains. “They’re in this pocket. Along with a picture you’ll want to see.”
I incline my head but watch him carefully as he pulls a pair of spectacles from the large pocket, along with a piece of parchment.
Slipping the glasses onto his face, he chooses a spot on the table that’s free from blood splatter and presses the parchment, still folded so I can’t see its contents, onto the surface.
“I’m the accountant,” he says. “I follow the money, small amounts of which have been siphoned off into random bank accounts over the last six months. Oliver asked me to look into it.”
I keep my distance, quietly assessing everything Abel tells me—and what he hasn’t. For starters, it’s highly unusual for asupernatural to need glasses for reading. Our eyesight is usually sharp. He certainly proved he didn’t need spectacles to kill a warlock.
At the thought of the warlock, I’m momentarily distracted by the fact that both bodies are still lying on the floor. For now, I need to keep blocking them from my mind. I’m certain there will be some sort of clean-up team to take care of them.
For now, Abel is the immediate problem.
His claim that he’s the accountant doesn’t stack up with what I know of this company. Human accounting firms have always been used because it makes it far easier for Draven Industries to operate within the boundaries of human society. This building, in plain sight, is just one example of that.
“You’re not an accountant,” I say quietly before Abel can speak further.
He presses his thumb onto the paper and gives me a wry smile. “I’m not the kind of accountant you’re thinking of. I don’t shuffle dollars on paper. I identify theft within a business, follow the money to the supernaturals behind it, and take whatever enforcement action is needed to deal with the problem.”
“You’re a mercenary,” I say.
He narrows his eyes at me, and I have the distinct impression that I offended him. “Following the money and identifying the culprits takes time and skill. Killing is the mere end result of months of detailed work. As a descriptor of the work I do, I preferaccountant.”
I keep my expression neutral. “Very well. But whatever you’re about to tell me, I want my stepsister to hear it, too.”
He nods. “I have no problem with that.”
I head to the door and call Zara and Seb inside.
She walks confidently, showing not a hint of her previous anxiety, while Seb is a hulking shadow, a protective force at her back.
Even so, they both appear wary of Abel, and from what I’ve seen and heard so far, they should be.
Once I’m alone with Zara, I plan to ask her for everything she knows about Abel. I also plan to ask the assassins. Hunter Cassidy is bound to have a dossier on him.
Seb immediately takes stock of the two bodies and says, “I’ll get a clean-up crew in here once we’re done.”
