I gave her a thoughtful look. “How about you come with me tomorrow? I’ll swing by your rooms late morning to pick you up. Let’s say eleven.”
She grinned excitedly. “That sounds amazing. What are we doing?”
I shot a wary look down the hall, noticing maids and valets studiously attending to their duties. “I…can’t talk about it here, but I think I found a way to kill our big-league feathered friends,” I said, in a loud whisper. As if I had no concern about the workers overhearing me, but that I had wanted to make sure no one important heard. In reality, I was tossing chum into shark-infested waters. Because if I was Envy, I would be using the servants to get me intel. Or…I would pose as a servant myself.
So I discreetly took note of each face—even though all of them seemed to be pointedly ignoring us so as not to bother us. If my secret trip with Claire became not so secret, the most likely culprits would be one of these diligent workers.
Claire stared at me anxiously, sensing that I was up to something. “Are you sure that’s wise?” she asked in a loud hiss, sounding nervous. “To kill one of them would be—”
“Keep your voice down,” I hissed. “I’m going to kill one tomorrow, and you’re going to help me!” I snapped, scowling at the hall in a broad, sweeping manner. Servants jumped and dusted or polished more fervently in the wake of my ire.
Claire nodded uneasily. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you at eleven tomorrow morning. Get some sleep tonight. You’re going to need it.” She nodded, clamping her lips tight as if bottling up her fear. I gestured down the hall. “Samael and Lilith are probably waiting for me. I’ll see you at eleven tomorrow morning.”
“Okay. Good night, Callie.”
Then she was walking down the halls, clenching her fists open and closed, her shoulders trembling.
What was that all about? Sanguina asked me, making me jump.
I motioned for her to follow, eyeing the servants as we passed.
I debated not answering, but I didn’t want Sanguina causing problems. So I told her in my head. A trap. To see if one of the servants is a spy.
I’d counted at least a half a dozen servants close enough to overhear us, but it was entirely possible that none of them were rebels working for Envy. It wasn’t perfect, but it might at least help me determine which servants not to suspect.
I opened the door to the Feast Hall and ushered her inside.
I closed the door behind us to find Lilith and Samael seated at the table, sipping glasses of wine. Judging by the expectant grins on their faces, Samael’s request for the Daemon figurines had given us a favorable answer. I shook my head minutely. “No toys until after drinks,” I said, cryptically. Then I mimed zipping my lips shut so they didn’t say anything damning. Who knew if a servant would walk in at any moment?
“Then…let’s plan a goddamned wedding,” Samael said, wearily.
Lilith clapped delightedly.
44
I sipped a glass of wine, listening to Lilith talk away about food, decorations, flowers, guests, and possible dates. Samael had caught the wedding bug, and was soon making as many suggestions as Lilith, which was cute to see. Most men couldn’t care less about the details. To them, weddings were military missions—to survive long enough to claim the hill after the smoke cleared, and plant their flags in victory.
The bursts of cork-fire, the screams and cries of loved ones, and the frantic chaos of the dance floor battleground were all things a competent soldier must learn to overcome.
I soon found myself coming down with a mild wedding fever, caught up by their contagious excitement. Granted, recent events hadn’t revolved around fun, happy moments, so it was a breath of fresh air to plan a different type of battle.
Samael was halfway through selling Lilith his suggestion on using the upper balcony for the ceremony when there was a loud knock on the door to the Feast Hall. I glanced at Sanguina. Hide in my rooms. Thankfully, she didn’t argue my command. She disappeared between one moment and the next.
I gave Samael and Lilith a reassuring look, careful to keep my own composure. After planting my seeds about a secret plan with Claire tomorrow, I had considered a dozen or more scenarios resulting from a spying servant passing the information off to his or her boss, Envy. Reactions ranged from an outright rebel attack on the castle, to armies of angels and demons tearing through Kansas City, to any number of visitors showing up here, at the Feast Hall—since I had made it no secret I was coming here for a long chat with my godparents. The problem was, I didn’t know which scenario was on the other side of the door, and battle plans typically went to hell the moment the first shot was fired.
“Come in,” I called out in an officious tone.
The door opened and Xylo walked in. He bowed at the waist. I had no way of knowing whether Claire had caught him up to speed, so all I could do now was hope for the best.
“There is a…man outside who wishes to pay his respects to Lilith and Samael in regards to their upcoming wedding,” he said. The way he had paused at the word man sent a shiver down my spine, but I kept my composure. He looked troubled. That’s when it hit me. I hadn’t even considered talking to him through our mental connection.
Trust me, Xylo. Talk to Claire.
The pools of shadow in his eyes flared. I already did. Can I help you kill this angel or demon?
I choked on my wine, almost dropping my glass. Samael and Lilith looked suddenly concerned by my bizarrely delayed reaction since they couldn’t hear my internal conversation with Xylo. I managed to suck down some air between coughs, waving away their concern.
Don’t worry about that, Xylo. Just do what Claire told you.
He gave a subtle nod before speaking out loud. “He is unarmed and claims to have brought a gift.”
“He may enter,” I said calmly, and then I took another sip of my wine to try and wash down the last of my coughing fit as my mind raced with who this man might be. It seemed my rumor about having the power to kill an angel or demon had reached the right ears, causing one of the archdemons to make a move.
Demon. Powerful demon, Xylo told me through our mental connection.
I suppressed a shudder. A minute later, Wrath swept into the room with a regal air. He still didn’t wear shoes, and had opted for tight jeans and a startlingly white collared shirt with a satin finish. It was unbuttoned like the last time I’d seen him, showing off the two black feathers on his chain necklace. He bowed, formally, flashing me a dark, amused grin.
I dipped my chin ever so slightly. “Leave us,” I told Xylo. “This is a family matter.”
Thankfully, he didn’t hesitate in obeying me. I hadn’t wanted Wrath to see my own guard questioning my commands. It also served to subconsciously warn Wrath that Xylo had enough confidence in my abilities to leave me alone with the new guest. Wrath would think he’d been underestimated.
Good.
Overconfidence was a ruthless killer of men—human or otherwise.
The door clicked shut and I used my magic to retrieve an empty wine glass from the cabinet. I set it down before an empty seat and gestured for Wrath to join us. In my head, I flipped through the rolodex of servants and valets who had been within earshot of my talk with Claire, careful to ward Xylo from my thoughts to prevent him from going on a murder spree.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, smiling and taking a seat. He set a rolled piece of parchment down on the table and I had to force myself not to hiss. Had he really brought Legion’s wedding contract? But I managed a polite smile, permitting only a curious glance at the paper. Thankfully, even in the best of situations, a visit from Wrath was enough to cause IBS, so it wasn’t suspicious that Lilith and Samael were noticeably perched on the edges of their seats, looking like they wanted to bolt.
“You look well, brother,” Lilith said, managing not to squirm—because she was seated before the man who had likely sold her to Dracula.
Samael nodded. “It’s been a long time,” he said, careful
ly, and I knew he wanted nothing more than to rip Wrath’s smiling lips off with rusty fish hooks.
Wrath smirked, shooting Lilith a meaningful look. “Oh, I don’t know. Longer for some than others,” he said with a chuckle, obviously alluding to seeing Lilith more recently than Samael. When he’d commanded her to kill her Daemons. But only Lilith was supposed to know about that, so Samael and I feigned curiosity as Wrath continued. “I had the privilege of meeting Miss Penrose recently, as I’m sure you well know.” The pair nodded. “She told me you had opted to become her godparents, and that you were getting married. I am so very happy for you,” he said, and the level of sincerity was so thick it bordered on syrupy.
“Leave them alone, Wrath,” I said, dryly. “It’s already awkward enough without you laughing at your own jokes.”
He chuckled, and then chose one of the three open bottles of wine on the table. He poured himself a glass and put the bottle down. “There is always time for a little fun and sibling rivalry.”
I sipped my wine. “Samael and I already had our fair share of sibling rivalry this evening,” I said. “As you well know, so let’s just cut to the chase.” Wrath sipped his wine with a contented sigh, smacking his lips as he turned to me, gesturing in a way that came across as him granting me permission to continue.
Which pissed me right the hell off. This was my castle.
I turned to Lilith with a warm smile. “Oh, before I forget. You simply must have lilies on the centerpieces. I know an excellent florist—”
“Hey!” Wrath growled. “I’m feeling slighted.”
I slowly turned to him, giving him a puzzled, somewhat pestered frown. “Then feel free to leave, or bite your tongue until I’m finished speaking with my godmother.”
Samael hid his smirk by guzzling his wine, but I kept my face blank as I held Wrath’s glare as carefully as a baby bird—tight enough to control but not hard enough to crush. He was completely motionless, not even seeming to breathe. Then he let out a grunt and leaned back in his chair, sipping his wine as if it hadn’t been worth getting upset over in the first place.
But those eyes bored into me like hot irons—furious yet infatuated with the puzzlingly defiant creature whom he intended to marry and form a new world order with. His prophecy was not far from my mind.
I turned back to Lilith and smiled, clasping her hands in mine. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes. I know an excellent florist.” Then I squeezed her hand, turned back to Wrath, and sipped my wine as I pompously motioned with my hand, granting him permission to speak—in the exact same way he had tried with me.
I saw a vein throbbing near his temples as the skin around his eyes tightened. “You didn’t add anything. You literally repeated the same thing from a moment ago.”
I nodded. “How astute. Perhaps I was making a point. That in these halls, I wear the crown and you kiss the ring,” I said, holding out my limp hand to show off the Seal of Solomon—the ring that trapped demons in a metaphysical prison. “How is your wine?” I asked, dryly.
That vein in his temple looked about ready to erupt and his shoulders visibly shook before he took a calming breath, and a truly wicked smile split his cheeks. His eyes danced with lust at my stubborn refusal to give him an inch of control.
He. Fucking. Loved. It.
And it was all I could do to maintain a confident, dismissive air. Because we both knew I was bluffing.
“I seem to have overstepped my place,” Wrath said in a surprisingly calm tone, and he deftly leaned forward to gently grip my hand before I could retract it. His fingers were hot and tingled with power. “I humbly kiss the ring, my queen.” And then he leaned forward to kiss the Seal of Solomon. His lips touched the demon prison, and there was a crackling pop, but he continued pressing his lips to the metal, ignoring the pain and power burning his flesh. After a few long seconds, he pulled away and released my hand. “Perhaps I could help you find a new ring. Soon.” I managed not to recoil and hiss like a doused cat. Barely.
Then Wrath gave me a subtle bow and sat back down. His lips were slightly inflamed from the crackling burn of my ring, but they began to heal even as I stared at him. It was a steady flex of power—that my demon prison was a joke to an archdemon like him.
I nodded politely, acknowledging the gesture as an expected social grace. “As I was saying, we can save some time by getting right to the matter at hand.” Everyone nodded. I stared directly into Wrath’s eyes. “I told you I would meet Pride—and the other Sins—in private. What happened this afternoon was the exact opposite of private. I don’t know or care how, but you had something to do with the shit show Samael and I ran into. What I do care about is that you tried to use me for your own ends. And you need to know that I will not be used. Ever.”
I leaned back in my seat, letting the point of the figurative nail sink in as I swirled my glass absently. He hadn’t denied his involvement in the events outside Pride’s house. Did that mean anything?
I decided to hammer the point home a little harder, since he wasn’t reacting. I chose a sledgehammer. “You need me more than I need you. So if you want to play games, you better start believing in a different prophecy. I don’t need the dead weight. Or the headache.” I eyed him up and down. “The reward simply isn’t worth the risk.”
The room was eerily silent. “Is that why you came back home?” Wrath finally asked in a cold tone. Still not showing any denial or any shame.
“I knew you’d come crawling back when you realized how utterly your plan had failed. You broke your word and you disappointed me. I wanted to tell you, to your face, that your petty games only served to permanently dry up one of my ovaries.”
Samael and Lilith both choked on their wine, flashing me horrified looks in my peripheral vision.
I remained calm, staring down the archdemon. Wrath gripped the table, his shoulders trembling. And the wood began to smolder beneath his fingers. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Let me guess at what you were going to say,” I said, cutting him off with a bored sigh as I set my wineglass down. “Blah, blah, blah, don’t you dare disrespect me or I’ll hurt people you love. Blah, blah, blah, I am Wrath. Rawr!” I mock roared, lifting my pointer fingers to my temples so they resembled horns.
He stared at me, and I noticed one of his eyes twitching dangerously. Except he was licking his lips.
“Wrath, I feel my second ovary drying up just thinking about your excuses and justifications. Man up or go home. I gave you my terms. I will meet the rest of the Seven with no more interference from anyone. If I’m sitting down with Lust and I hear so much as a doorbell ring, our arrangement is finished. Period.” Then I leaned back in my seat again and took a sip. “Your move.”
Samael and Lilith were absolutely motionless, and their eyes were as wide as saucers. I hadn’t really planned out my little speech, so they’d been given no warning. To be fair, I’d probably gone way overboard. But it was the only hand I had—to keep him reeling on his heels. I was so far outclassed on the power spectrum that I had to keep him thinking that my back was against a wall and that I would rather die than give in. Him using force to try and push me around was not going to work like it did on everyone else.
The only thing he didn’t truly understand was someone without any fear whatsoever. I could fake that.
Wrath was a bully. It was his power.
So, I popped him in the mouth. Not enough to do any real damage, physically, but to destroy any semblance of control he thought he held—which had been made apparent by his arrogant entrance. Someone had gotten word to him that I had a plan up my sleeves tomorrow with Claire, and he had decided to come visit me personally to feel me out. But I wasn’t supposed to know that.
He closed his eyes and I watched him shake with rage and…desperate need. Because he was broken, and encountering someone who didn’t tolerate his shit was exciting to him. The fact that I was apparently crazy enough to commit figurative suicide rather than be used as a puppet made him fall deeper
in love with me, in his own twisted way. I was the Harley Quinn to his Joker.
At least, that’s what I needed him to think. It was the only way to control him. Until I got me some Divines tonight. But I wasn’t supposed to know about their secret power, either.
He finally opened his eyes and stared at me. “Okay. I will not interfere again,” he croaked.
Lilith made a faint strangled sound and he whipped his head towards her with a snarl, instantly infuriated that she had witnessed his humiliation. “Lilith,” he hissed. “I brought you a gift,” he said in a sadistic tone. He turned to me. “This is an internal family matter and has nothing to do with us.”
Not really having any other choice, I gave him a faint nod of permission. In a way, he was seeking my approval, or at least acknowledging the fact that he didn’t want to upset me more. I could meet him halfway.
He slid the rolled parchment to Lilith and downed his entire glass of wine. I squinted suspiciously. I had thought the rolled paper was Legion’s wedding contract. What was he up to? He was already pouring another glass of wine as Lilith tugged at the string and unrolled the piece of paper. She began to read with a curious frown, and then her face went slack and cold. She dropped it to the table.
Samael snatched it up and gave it a cursory read. I saw the veins at his temples begin to throb and I discreetly kicked his ankles under the table, willing him to hold himself together. Lily was staring at Wrath, but with that concerning, blank expression on her face. She reached out to rest her fingers on Samael’s wrists in a calming manner, making him flinch in surprise.
Wrath was grinning at the two of them, inhaling the bouquet of aromas in his glass before taking a sip.
“You were right to have done so,” Lilith murmured in a soft, distant tone. “I would have told everyone that I bested you.”
Wrath’s humor evaporated and he let out another snarl, causing some of his wine to slosh onto the table.
Anghellic: Feathers and Fire Book 8 Page 26