“Next time, I’ll let the big, bad Nephilim kill you, Kitten. Would you have preferred that?” A smirk tugs at my lips upon seeing her jaw drop, a mixture of shock and anger coloring her pretty face. Makes her even prettier. I so like it when she’s angry.
“Kitten?” She spews the word with such detestation, I suddenly became a bigger fan of the nickname. “I’m not your fucking kitten. And why would you pull me away when the Nephilim was talking to me? I could?—”
The rest of her words go unheeded as I focus on one part. “What did you say?” Perhaps I misunderstood her. There have never been reports of Nephilim speaking, except for their leader, Gadreel. And even he saves his words for certain occasions.
“I said it was speaking to me.”
So, I heard correctly. For once, Ender presented me with vital information. Well, this certainly changes everything. “And what did it say to you? Tell me exactly what it said.”
“You were there.” She peers at me oddly. “Didn’t you hear it?”
I do my best to stay calm, though my patience is delicately balancing on a thin precipice. “I heard screaming. Nothing more.”
“Nothing?” she asks, her voice quieting. She studies me, trying to catch me in a lie. I’m many things, but I’m not a liar. Not when the truth is so much more desirable.
“Tell me what you heard, Kitten.”
Isabelle shoots me a glare but otherwise ignores thename. “Well, I didn’t know what that thing was, so I asked it. Then I heard a voice in my head telling me it was a Nephilim.”
“Correct, it is. Keep going.”
“I asked it why it was here, and it said—” Before she gets the words out, the dining door creaks open, and in walks Garvan.
“My lord?—”
“Hush, Garvan. I’m in the middle of something.” My command makes Garvan pause, stopping short of where I stand with Isabelle. He makes no attempt to leave, but he nods, obeying my order. Slinking back against the wall, Garvan makes himself scarce but still stays close.
“Go on,” I urge.
Isabelle’s eyes drift over to Garvan before snapping back to meet my gaze. Her cheeks redden, as if she’s flustered. “I wanted to know why it was hurting the demons, but I didn’t get a clear answer. It said something about how it is bringing death for HIM…but I don’t know who he is.”
“Perhaps Gadreel.”
“I don’t know that name.” She shakes her head.
“Gadreel is the leader of the Nephilim. They follow his orders,” I answer distractedly, my mind racing with possible ways to move forward. It is clear we are at an advantage if the humans can speak to the Nephilim. Or is that power only reserved for Isabelle? There’s only one way to test that theory.
“Garvan,” I bark, and my courtier stands taller. “Send word to the kraken, wolf, and dragon kings. Request the presence of their wives.”
I expect Garvan to bow and carry out my order, but the demon hesitates. “My lord, is this necessary? Perhaps we should put our efforts into finding out who or what is poisoning our river and how we can combat it. It’s getting worse.”
“Poisoning your river?” Isabelle questions, but I ignore her.
“I gave you an order; go see that it is done.”
“But—” Garvan tries to argue, but my patience is worn. Dark shadows surround him, lashing out like invisible whips. He grimaces but finally bows. “I’ll send word now.”
I call back my shadows. “See that you do.”
With another bow, Garvan hurries out of the room, the bitter taste of his poorly concealed anger lingering.
I want to look further into this theory, but for now, it is a waiting game. I clap my hands together, the thunderous sound echoing into the room, causing Isabelle to jump. “Join me for dinner.”
“What? Don’t you want to figure out what the Nephilim was saying?” she asks incredulously.
I want nothing more than to question the Nephilim further, but I first must know if Isabelle is alone with this ability, and until then, I’m unwilling to risk her. She’s too valuable to me to use her as a reckless pawn. Of course, I say none of this and simply gesture for a seat. “Sit. Food will be brought out.”
“N…no,” she stammers, looking at me as if I asked her to do flips for my entertainment. She must think me unhinged. It isn’t a completely inaccurate assumption.
