Page 18 of Guardian

“No, oh Great One. We were careful. But they outnumbered us,” Colton insisted.

But there was something in his eyes. His eyes flickered with an overproduction of the chemical that colored his eyes green. Like tears the substance oozed through his irises. A demon couldn’t cry, however, other things could be conveyed through the eyes. Things like lies. Zoltan had studied his demons closely over the last few years and learned to recognize the signs. He was by no means infallible in detecting a lie, but he didn’t need to be. Better to stamp out one demon who turned out to be truthful than let one liar live.

“Outnumbered, you say? How many guardians did you encounter?” Zoltan asked calmly, almost casually, though inside his fury was already boiling, ready to burst from him.

“Many, a whole group.” Colton’s voice sounded less sure now, and there was a slight trembling in his hands, which he tried to disguise by clasping them together.

Zoltan stepped closer. “How many?”

“Maybe six or seven.”

Another lie. This time so much easier to detect.

“How many?”

“Four?”

Zoltan snatched Colton by his throat. “The truth now.”

Colton struggled to breathe. Zoltan eased his grip, giving him just enough air to answer.

“Two. There were two. But they were cunning, stronger than others.”

Zoltan let go of Colton’s throat. “Now was that so hard? Telling the truth, I mean?”

Wordlessly, Colton shook his head.

“I’m glad I was able to teach you something. Sadly, however, this lesson comes too late for you.”

Zoltan pulled his dagger from the sheath at his hip and plunged it into the demon. “Never lie to your master, because he’ll always find out.”

Colton gurgled helplessly, and Zoltan twisted the knife in his gut until green blood bubbled up from Colton’s mouth and spilled over his lips. Then he pulled his dagger out and kicked the demon backward, so he fell onto the hard stone ground.

Zoltan tore his gaze from the dying demon and addressed Yannick, “Put together my best warriors and send them out to find the psychic. Have them kill every Stealth Guardian they encounter, and everybody in their way. I want that psychic. Alive.”

“Yes, oh Great One!” Yannick answered. Then he bowed and charged toward the door.

“And have the garbage taken out,” Zoltan ordered, motioning to the floor. “It stinks of cowardice in here.”