by Kyra Quinn
He reaches into the box and pulls out a tightly wrapped joint. He pops it into his mouth and lights it. His eyes never leave my face.
“Everyone knows not to make deals with the devil.”
He exhales a cloud of smoke, offering me the joint. “I think it’s far too late for you on that one, pet. You sold your soul the minute you joined the Dark Hunt.”
I snatch the rolled papers from his fingers and press it to my lips. Zeke isn’t as tolerant towards weed as he is alcohol. The smoke tickles my throat until I choke. My mouth goes dry, the herbal aftertaste lingering on my tongue.
“Why should I believe anything you tell me?” I ask, taking another hit before passing the joint back. “You’re a demon. A master of deception and trickery.”
He shrugs, his gaze wandering away from me towards the ocean. “Take the offer, pet. It’s the kindest one I plan to make you. You can either trade the information you have willingly, or I can strip it from you and leave you with nothing.”
The weed doesn’t take long to hit me. Within minutes, Kane’s voice sounds far away. My muscles relax, my limbs lightening. And with the sun setting behind him into the ocean, it’s impossible not to notice how temptingly handsome Kane is.
“What are the terms?” I snatch the joint from him. “I won’t betray Zeke.”
“Even if I offer you proof he killed your mother?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kane
I almost pity Nadia. She sits on the bed in her room, still naked except for the thick leather collar secured around her neck. We didn’t bother to tie her up, and the murderous glint to her eyes makes me question whether I’ll regret that decision. She put on quite a show of her loyalty to Zeke and the idealistic bullshit he’s pumped her head with. She may have even thought she meant it.
But I recognize that bloodlust in her eyes. I’m more familiar with the hunger for vengeance than damn near anyone. And it’s not that I mind her loathing me. Hell, it turns me on to see her body respond to my touch when I know how much she wishes me dead.
I don’t expect her feelings towards me to change once she knows the truth. She’s a hunter. Realizing they have tricked her into fighting someone else’s war won’t change how she views demons.
“How can you prove it?” she demands for the third time since I posed my offer.
Technically I can’t. Not without calling in a favor. “Leave that to me. The terms are simple, pet. I can ask you any ten questions of my choosing, and you must answer with the truth. If you lie, I punish you. When my questions run out, I’ll have Arachne draw you a bath and bring you something to eat while I acquire the evidence you seek.”
“Ten?” She scowls. “Three.”
I’m on top of her before she can blink. Her mouth forms a tiny O as she gasps. My hand wraps around her throat and squeezes as my face hovers inches from hers. “Not a negotiation.”
I see the tiniest flicker of a smile, but it disappears so fast I’m not sure if I imagined it. “Fine. What is it you want to know?”
My grip loosens, but I leave my hand pressed against her neck. “Good girl. Let’s warm up with an easy one. Why did you join the Dark Hunt?”
“To kill you,” she snarls without missing a beat. “To make you suffer for what you did to my mother.”
“See? Easy.”
“What’s question two?” she grumbles, folding her arms over her chest. The gesture is so immature, I almost regret not leaving her bound.
Lilith didn’t leave a list of questions to ask our prisoner during her interrogation. “How many hunters has Michael collected?”
“Depends on the week. Our line of work is dangerous. Hunters die all the time, but it’s not always easy to replace them.”
“Best guess.”
She huffs. “I don’t know. Twelve? Thirteen?”
Less than expected. Unless she’s lying. “That’s it?”
“Michael prefers to keep his circle tight.”
It’s not the worst idea. The more pieces you put into play, the more difficult each becomes to monitor and control. Babysitting a dozen doltish hunters sounds worse than an eternity spent cleaning up after the hellhounds.
“Right, next question. Tell me about the one called Siren.”
Nadia’s face pales. “What about her?”
“The Knights ordered us to abduct her, too. I’m curious why. What sets her apart from the other hunters?”
Nadia presses her lips together. “Nothing. Leave her out of this.”
Interesting. Zeke isn’t the only member of the hunt she’s formed an emotional attachment to. “Not my call. The target is already on her back. What’s her proper name?”
She shifts her weight, avoiding my gaze. “I don’t know.”
“Liar.” I smile despite myself. She’s lucky; I love a proficient liar almost as much as the stories they spin. “I said I’d punish you for every false answer.”
She hesitates, debating how much damage I can do with something as small as a name. Self-preservation wins. She sighs and hangs her head in resignation. “Jade.”
“Jade…?”
She barks a sarcastic laugh. “Who knows? I’m not even positive Jade is her actual name. That’s part of the hunt’s appeal. The moment you join the Dark Hunt, you shed the person you were before like snakeskin. All your old problems disappear. There’s only you and the hunt.”
I stare at her for a moment, searching her face for some trace of the reticent girl I met two years ago. It’s hard to believe the wild-eyed woman in front of me is the same person. There’s a lust in her voice when she speaks of the hunt, a thirst for blood and reprisal. Even if she killed me, I doubt it would sate her bloodlust.
“What has Michael led you to believe his end goal is for this war? What is it you think you're fighting for?”
She laughs, but there’s no humor in the sound. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re not soldiers fighting in a war. We’re exterminators. It’s our job to take out the trash and protect Miami from the monsters looking to pull us into eternal darkness.”
I lift a brow. “Bit dramatic, no? Not that I’m surprised. I doubt he’d inspire so many followers with the truth.”
“We know the truth,” she snarls. “Who do you think cleans up the messes you leave? Do you have any idea how many bodies I’ve burned after they’ve been drained of blood or gutted by your kind?”
It’s difficult not to smile at her self-righteous rant. “It’s cute when you’re mad.”
Predictably, she tells me to fuck off. My smile grows.
“Don’t pretend I’m the only killer in this room,” I tell her, lowering my voice as I push a copper coil away from her face. She flinches, which only makes me want to touch her more. “How many of Lilith’s children have you slain in the last two years? Dozens? Hundreds?”
“It’s not the same,” she says with a slight growl. “Your kind kills innocent mortals for fun. We kill monsters before they claim more innocent lives.”
I roll my eyes. My hand twitches, but I stifle the urge to strike her and shoot her a death glare instead. “We feed for survival, not sport. It’s no different than humans who eat beef or chicken. But I hate that word.”
“Monster?”
“Innocent.” I hiss the word like a forbidden curse. “And the implication that it has anything to do with mortality. A man is not innocent because he’s human. There are mortals on this Earth with souls dark enough to rival Lucifer himself.”
“That isn’t the point—”
“You’re right. The point is, we’re not as different as you pretend. When you strip away the excuses we cloak ourselves in, there’s blood on both our hands. But this bloodlust we’re slaves to didn’t begin with us. Your mother had more confirmed kills than any other witch in her coven.”
Nadia’s face hardens, and I can tell I’ve said too much. She springs up from the bed and points a shaky finger at the door. “Bullshit. Get out. I’d rather rot in here alone.”
“N
ice try, but I’m not out of questions yet. Sit.”
Her eyes flicker between the bed and the locked door. Realizing she’s trapped, her shoulders slump as she drops herself back onto the bed. She pulls her knees into her chest and grumbles, “Get on with it. I don’t want to hear any more of your lies about my mother.”
It’s almost irritating how determined she is not to trust me. The dull throb of a headache builds in my temples. Six more questions, and I’m certain she’ll make none of them easy.
I ask three more questions about Michael and the Dark Hunt. Nadia’s answers are intentionally vague. She refuses to tell me anything about their plans or any of the mortals she hunts with. I ask about their base of operations, but she shrugs and tells me Zeke doesn’t believe in ‘permanent addresses.’
With three questions left, I crack my knuckles and dive into the most important issue. “The Knights have intel suggesting Michael owns a weapon capable of enslaving humans to the Dark Hunt. Know anything about it?”
Nadia’s eyes widen. She shakes her head, and I want to believe her despite knowing I shouldn’t. The shock on her face, at least, appears to be genuine. “Why would he want to do that? We just finished discussing how Michael prefers to keep his circle tight. He doesn’t trust most people.”
“I believe ‘enslave’ is the key word.”
“Still, no way. I’ve heard no one mention a weapon like that.”
It’s possible she’s lying, but it’s equally likely Lilith lied about her motivations for kidnapping her. Nadia isn’t stupid, though. She has a way of staring you in the eye while she sells you a mountain of bullshit.
Only two questions left, and I need to make them count. If Dagon were interrogating her, he’d ask about Michael’s weaknesses or something strategic. But he isn’t. She’s mine to interrogate and torture and reward as I see fit.
“Have you slept with Zeke?” The question crosses my lips before I have time to decide if it’s wise to ask. If she says yes, it’ll take an act of Lucifer himself to protect the fallen angel from me. I’ll end the war with my bare hands when I rip him limb from limb.
Nadia, however, throws back her head and howls as if I’ve told the best joke of the evening. “What does that matter?”
“It matters,” I growl through clenched teeth. “Answer the question.”
Her eyebrows furrow, but she shakes her head. “Zeke doesn’t mix business and pleasure. He’s never slept with any of the hunters.”
Relief doesn’t come. There’s something wistful in her voice when she talks about Zeke. She misses him. And it’s all I can do not to press my hands against her skull and burn his name from her memories.
“Last question?” she asks, oblivious to the fiery rage building inside me.
I should use the last question for something more professional. Actionable information about Michael and the hunters. Petty personal questions won’t help us win a war.
“Will you still hate me once you have your proof I didn’t kill your mother?”
Her words are laced with venom. “I will hate you until my own dying breath.”
“Mmm, say it again.”
“What?”
My hand shoots forward and wraps around her neck, pressing into her windpipe. “Tell me you hate me, pet.”
“I hate you,” she says, voice breathy. “I hate you with every fiber of my being. I hate you! I hate you, I—”
Before she finishes, I smash my lips against hers. Fuck. She still tastes every bit as decadent as I remember, like wine and whispered nothings. She gasps into my mouth, but I don’t stop. My grip on her throat tightens as I kiss her deep enough to suck the soul from her body. My free hand slides around to grab a fistful of her hair. She wiggles and squirms, but I hold her against me and take what I want. I don’t release her until she struggles for air against my mouth.
“What the hell was that?” she pants, wiping her mouth with her arm.
I shrug and rise to my feet, shifting my stance to hide the massive bulge in my pants. “I don’t think you hated it as much as you want me to believe.”
“Where are you going?” she calls as I move for the door. “What about the proof you promised me?”
I flash her a smirk. “I never said when I’d deliver it. See you soon, pet.”
I slip out of the room and slam the door shut behind me, muffling her outrage. Her fists pound against the oak, but I lock the door and slide the key back into my pocket. I’ll keep my word, but not until I’m good and ready. There’s something I need to do with my new toy first.
* * *
“No fucking way.” Dagon folds his arms over his chest. “I’d rather drink a bottle of holy water than invite that bitch into our home.”
It’s the response I expected. We sit across from each other in Dagon’s office, him behind the desk while I lounge in one of the stiff leather armchairs. A glittery pink lip print decorates his cheek. At least someone enjoyed the party.
“The girl won’t betray the hunt unless without a damn solid reason to. She only joined their ranks to hunt me and avenge her mother’s death. If we prove she’s misdirecting her anger, she may surrender all their secrets.”
Dagon gives a growl of frustration. “We do not bribe prisoners for information. We torture it out of them. You know that better than anyone.”
“Breaking her will take more time than we have. And it won’t inspire any loyalty towards us. Hell may relish our cruelty, but this we’re no longer in the pit. A true strategist knows when to use the sword and when to use sugar.”
Dagon frowns, but I can see the wheels spinning in his head. My brother loves a good con more than most. I lean across the desk, ready to seal the deal.
“Lilith chose her for a reason. Imagine how pleased the Knights will be if we convert their target to our cause.”
“But Mother Miscreance?” His nose wrinkles. “That old hag makes demons seem pleasant. There must be another witch. Hollie’s sister, perhaps.”
“Only a witch with an affinity for black magic can summon Alana Gray’s spirit. Mother Miscreance is the only one I know of in Miami.”
“So we find another way. One that doesn’t involve begging favors from her.”
His reluctance is understandable. Mother Miscreance has a worse reputation than Lucifer in the magic community. The most popular rumor in town is one about her murdering her entire coven to absorb their magic for herself. No one counts her as a friend, but she’s a dangerous enemy to make.
“I can handle the hag,” I assure him. “Whatever price she demands, I’ll pay it. And if this plan should fail, I’ll put my full energy into torturing the girl until she splits open and spills her secrets.”
Dagon leans back in his chair and presses his palms together, performing an upside-down prayer motion. He purses his lips. “Fine. Send Arachne to summon the hag. But you’d better pray to Lucifer no one finds out about this. The Knights will not approve.”
“They will if it works.” I dismiss him with a wave. “You worry too much. Thank me when you take your place in the Knights’ court.”
“Do I need to worry about how attached you seem to our captive?” Dagon slides his shades to the tip of his nose, searching my face for clues.
I scoff. “My only attachment is to her potential. Should she fail to live up to it, I’ll reduce her to a pile of ash.”
He gives a slow nod, and I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “Has she told you anything useful yet?”
“Not especially. She’s well-conditioned to pain.”
I fill him in on the tiny details I gleaned from my interrogation with Nadia, embellishing the bits that catch his attention and skipping my invasive personal questions. He drums his fingers against the desk while I speak.
“Still no sign of magic, I presume. Aside from the tiny display the other day, I mean.” he asks. “Hard to believe the daughter of a witch as powerful as Alana Gray could wind up barren.”
“Nothing I’ve noticed. Alana’s talents
must have skipped a generation. Whatever magic she possesses is too weak for her to train or summon on her own.”
Dagon’s frown deepens. “Perhaps you can ask the hag about it while she’s here. She might have some idea what Lilith wants from the girl.”
Mother Miscreance won’t tell me anything for free. The more favors we ask of her, the higher her price will climb. But we’re unlikely to find the information any other way. Whatever Lilith is up to, she’s keeping her cards close to her chest.
“Very well. I’ll send Arachne now.”
“Wait.” Dagon removes his shades. He fixes me with an intense stare, his jaw tight. “Do you think this witch can tell us what happened to Hollie?”
I groan. “Does it matter, D? She’s gone.”
“It matters,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes into an icy glare. “I cannot allow these questions to haunt me for the rest of eternity.”
I don’t know what to say to him. Hollie disappeared over a year ago, and not even her former coven has heard from her since. If he’s willing to pay Mother Miscreance’s price, he must have finally accepted that his former flame is no longer alive.
“I don’t know how much help the hag will be,” I say, choosing my words with care. “Mother Miscreance deals in death and the spirit realm. She’s not as useful for Earthly affairs.”
Dagon gives me a sad smile. “If you honestly think she’s still out there somewhere, you’re even more foolish than I am. That’s the danger of allowing yourself to care for something so feeble and helpless, though. It’s difficult to find color in the world after death calls them home.”
Nadia’s small, fragile body covered in my marks flashes through my mind. It’s a miracle she’s survived the hunt this long. The day will come—sooner than later—where her body is reduced to an empty vessel. Even if her dangerous lifestyle doesn’t kill her prematurely, her hair will whiten and thin. Laugh marks and wrinkles will tell stories across her face. Her bones will become brittle and break as time pulls her closer to the inevitable end.