Cliff shot me a wicked smirk. “When have I ever?”
Delilah looked in the direction of Ben’s humming wings. “Benny, you good?”
“Having the time of my life,” he answered. “Let’s go.”
Cliff kept me as obscured as he could as he exited the hallway and approached the marked door, Delilah sauntering closely by his side. The graying man who stood guard looked like he didn’tquite fit his expensive suit, like perhaps he was more often in something far more rugged and utilitarian. He shifted the way Jon and Cliff did in their tuxedos: restless and anxious at the restrained movements needed for combat.
“Off limits,” he said before Cliff could even open his mouth.
“You’ll want to make an exception,” Delilah said. “We came with a special offering for your dear boss. Who doesn’t love pretty things, hm?”
The guard glared suspiciously, though amusement glittered behind his eyes. He looked between the two of them, sizing them up. My vantage wasn’t great, but I couldn’t help but notice howlonghe scanned them. It was fucking creepy,making my heart pound. Weapons weren’t permitted, but there was an aura of violence about this singular person that set my hair on end.
“Eros isn’t taking any further considerations this evening.”
“He’ll have to make an exception for this,” Cliff said.
A scoffed laugh—cold and brittle. “Maybe he’ll have an audience with your corpse, if you keep pushing your luck, boy. Don’t you know who the fuck you’re talking with?”
Cliff glanced around, then brought me into the open just long enough for the guard to see. I kept my head down as light spilled over me—the picture of a broken-in tool. Blood pounded in my face as I felt the weight of the guard’s stare.
For a split second, I was terrified—certain that I wouldn’t be enough to grant them passage back. Or worse, this man might try to confiscate me on the spot, forcing the others to reveal their true intentions right here on the open floor.
“Fuck,” the guard breathed as Cliff concealed me again. There was a whisper of awe to his voice. Awe, mingled with greed. “Alright. Follow me.”
He opened the door behind him, revealing a dim, circular room. Once we were inside and the door was shut, the sounds of the gala were swallowed up. Cliff no longer had to hide me,and I was able to get a better look at the space around us. It was sparsely furnished. There was a single light fixture at the center, illuminating a table with two chairs, some ornamental vases, and busts on display at varying points.
Two more well-dressed men were posted on either side of the room, handguns visibly holstered at their hips. Cliff would have to get hold of one of those weapons and put a bullet in Eros' head.Stars, I hadn’t truly considered it until now. Should I have asked him how he felt about assassinating an ordinary human, corrupt or not?
Instead, I had said those awful things to him in the spectral realm.
“Where’s Eros?” Delilah asked. “Last I checked, he’s the one in charge, yes? I don’t want to waste our efforts.”
She wasgood, sounding so hapless when I knew she must’ve been just as tense as I was.
The guard took a seat at the table, gesturing for Cliff to do the same. “Not so fast, girlie. Eros is busy. Doesn’t like his time wasted by a couple of fuckheads looking for a quick buck.” His eyes slid between them again—always coming back to me. “Bring your offering over here. I’ll appraise her to make sure it’s worth his time.”
This wasn’t part of the plan. The mere existence of a fairy should have been more than enough to catch the attention of Eros. How many of my kind did he have his hands on if he could afford to be picky?
Cliff took the offered seat. He couldn’t possibly plan to give me over so easily. I braced myself, trying to remain docile as Cliff shifted me to one hand. My fingers dug into my lap as the guard’s wolfish gaze studied me.
“You haven’t clipped her?” the guard said, sneering.
Clipped?
“No need,” Cliff said breezily.
“Stupid fuckers like you are the ones who wind up dead, not knowing how to keep these things on a leash. You’ll learn.”
The guard’s hand jumped toward me, and Cliff made a lightning-quick motion before I could even think to flinch. He slammed something narrow into the guard’s open palm. A deafening shout of pain rang out, punctuated by the click of two guns trained on Cliff at once.
Jaw slack, I recognized the makeshift weapon—the pen I had gifted him in the hotel room.
“What? Thought you wanted a demonstration.” Cliff nodded down to me, eyes hardening. “What the hell are you waiting for? Heal him.”
The armed guards nearby lowered their weapons, intrigued. Certain my knees would give from anxiety, I took wing. The silver-haired appraiser glared warily from the other side of the table, cradling his bleeding hand in the other. After some hesitation, he allowed me to touch the edge of the weeping puncture wound. It was nothing compared to what I had patched on Jon and Cliff over the past months.
“Asshole,” the guard muttered, glowering at Cliff as I completed the chant. Not even a scar remained—just a smear of blood.
