anyone.
I say, “Don’t take it so hard. Marchosias has been yammering about you ever since I got here. She keeps bringing up people on her staff she says could replace you. Some of them have pretty good credentials. You didn’t know any of that? Maybe you ought to run another background check on your staff.”
He squints at me the same way the committee did when I came in late.
“With all due respect, my lord, I’m not sure I believe you.”
“One, quit with the ‘my lord’ stuff. And two, I don’t care.”
He turns like he’s going to walk away but he just stands there.
“You still here?”
“I was wondering what you’re doing down at this end of the palace. Is it for something you’ve lost or something you’ve found?”
I go over to him, tear open his shirt, and rip the talisman off his neck. The chain leaves a nice red mark on his throat.
I get in close and whisper, “I cut off my own face once because it seemed like a good idea at the time. What do you think I’ll cut off you?”
He gives me a tiny nod and steps back, rubbing the red mark where the chain broke.
“It’s nice to see you with your energy back. I’ve been worried.”
“What does that mean?”
He waves his hand up and down me.
“Just an observation. Since you replaced our other Lucifer, you’ve seemed so wan and . . . what? Weak? It would be awful if people thought your armor was the only thing keeping you alive.”
How does this little shit know these things? I should snap his neck right now.
“I tell you what. Maybe you should keep this after all.”
I hold out the talisman.
He hesitates.
I hold it by two fingers and waggle it at him.
When he reaches for it, I let it drop. His gaze follows it down. I slam my shoulder into him, pinning his right hand against the wall. Grab the blade from behind my back. One quick slash and I cut off his little finger. He howls and falls to his knees, cradling his mutilated hand against his chest. Black blood oozes down his shirt. I pull off the glove that covers my Kissi arm, pick the talisman up off the floor, and drop it in my pocket. I grab him by the hair so he gets a good look at my prosthetic.
“The next time you threaten me, I’ll take your whole arm.”
First rule of threats. Always threaten big. Second rule. Always mean it, even if you don’t particularly want to do it.
He looks up at me.
“You pig. You human filth.”
“What do you expect from the Devil? A note in your personnel file?”
He’s wearing a collarless gray jacket. He manages to slip one arm out and wrap it around his bleeding hand. Leaning his good hand on the wall, he slowly gets to his feet, grimacing and cursing, and starts away
