“Belial drove a spear through my consort.” As Ashtaroth speaks, the fortress around us rumbles, lightning striking nearby.
“And Andras appears to be his right-hand man,” my daughter says. The fire in her eyes makes her look like a pregnant Amazonian warrior. “Armaros was our friend.”
I nod, reaching across the table to take her hand. Her mouth falls open in surprise. I guess I won’t be getting any Father of the Year awards, as Sariel would say.
“I’m not doubting your stories,” I say. “I’m merely taken aback. As far as I’m concerned, I spoke with Andras a few paltry moons ago. And all the while, he was already preparing to leave my court.”
“What did Sataniel do to you?” Naamah breathes.
“Yeah,” Sariel says, dragging the word out. “No offense, Uncle Asmo, but you’re like a pod person.”
I squeeze Naamah’s hand one more time before I pull back, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. I know I’m different, but it’s not aliens or any other of Sariel’s fantastical imaginings. It all has to do with my little fairy. She’s the one who changed me. Her and our unborn child.
“How close is Aim to finding Andras?” I ask, feeling no mercy whatsoever for what’s to befall him once my family gets their hands on him. And if anyone can find him and do it fast, it’s Ashtaroth’s spymaster assassin, Aim.
“Very close,” Ashtaroth answers. “He is somewhere in London, and so is Aim. It could be any moment now. You are welcome to be involved in the execution.”
Not interrogation. There’s no need for that.
I shake my head. “No. You all have cause for vengeance greater than mine. I’d rather be with my pregnant consort.”
My brother tilts his head. “So Simone is your consort, then? You made a soul bargain with her.”
“She is,” I say proudly, making sure I meet each of her team members’ gazes. “And our child will be my heir.”
“Ouch,” Naamah says, rolling her eyes. “And here I am, one of countless faceless, nameless offspring.”
“Shut up,” Sariel says, lightly punching her in the shoulder. “All of Hell knows you’re his favorite.”
“Yeah, until now,” she pouts. “But, fine. I’ll be the baby’s favorite aunt.”
“I’m sure you will,” I concede with a smile. It quickly slips off my face when I remember the rift between the child’s mother and me. I need a distraction. “So, tell me. What else did I miss?”
28
SIMONE
After those initial three days of hiding in my bedroom, I started to accept my new reality. My lover, the father of my unborn child, is actually an archdemon.
I'm running my fingertips along the edge of the black tourmaline necklace he gave me, claiming it was from his mother—who I now know is Lilith—when I sense a shift in the air. The manor has been so empty, so quiet that even the slightest change is noticeable.
He's back.
I stand up from where I've been sitting on our bed, smoothing my dress over my baby bump.
The knock at the bedroom door is hesitant. So unlike him.
“Simone? May I come in?” Az's voice sounds rough, uncertain.
Part of me wants to scream, to tell him to leave, to never show his face to me again. But I've had enough of hiding. This confrontation is days overdue.
“Come in,” I call out, my voice steadier than I expected.
The door opens slowly, revealing the man I thought I knew. He looks the same—tall, broad-shouldered, devastatinglyhandsome—yet completely different now that I know what lurks beneath the perfect visage.
“You look better,” he says, his eyes traveling over me cautiously. “I've been worried.”
I laugh, the sound brittle. “Now you're worried? A little late, isn’t it?”
