male lounging on my couch. At a glance, I ID’d him as White Hair, who had crashed Chuch’s backyard BBQ. His insouciance on Twila’s turf made me nervous, as Jesse had been clear about what would happen if the demons pressed their claim; and since I was under Twila’s protection, her retaliation would be even worse. From his expression, the Luren no longer cared.
But he was alone, another matter of concern. I froze by the door while Butch snapped and snarled from my purse. Somehow I managed to set him gently on the floor, afraid of him getting hurt in the cross fire. Moreover, I was terrified the Luren would harm the baby.
“It’s polite to call before you drop by,” I said, as if I wasn’t scared to death.
“I thought it best to have this conversation in private. You’ve accumulated quite an entourage . . . and their company can be tiresome.”
“Say your piece and get out.” There was no hope in hell that this encounter would end peacefully, but I’d offer bravado until the end.
“Come, there’s no need to be hostile. Not when I know so very much about you.”
My blood chilled. “Am I supposed to be impressed? Anyone over the age of eight can master the art of innuendo.”
The Luren frowned, his expression playful, but his dark eyes remained dead and dark in contrast to his shining hair. “Do you remember an encounter you had with an exceedingly helpful orderly? He was so solicitous, so knowledgeable . . .”
Actually, I’d been in such a bad way that I hadn’t noticed much about the admission process. My hospital stay was a blur, apart from learning I was pregnant. So I shook my head reflexively, knowing I wouldn’t like what was coming.
“Come now. He gave you all the necessary information about animal bites. Do you think that’s customary?”
“I have no idea,” I said honestly.
“Well, it’s not. He was one of ours, once-Binder. Not handsome enough to host, but fair enough to serve. He watched you. Reported on you.” He paused delicately, his smile sharpening until I had chills. “We know about the whelp.”
“I never promised Sibella my unborn child,” I said quietly.
“But you are in arrears. Leaving Sheol is not an acceptable dispensation of your debt.”
“I take it you have a plan?” If I could keep him talking, it might give me time to figure out how to kill him. I inched my fingers into my purse while Butch growled from behind my legs. My fingers brushed up against wallet, brush, phone, crumpled tissues . . .
“With its unique heritage, your child is exceedingly valuable to the Luren. Not only did your consort possess supernal beauty, but he also sprang from divinity. Your antecedents are exceptional as well. And the conception itself? Fascinating. For obvious reasons, we intend to make use of this hybrid.”
Rage crashed over me in a massive wave, so fierce I was surprised it didn’t slay the demon where it sat, sprawled with lazy grace on my sofa. In my head, I saw mass destruction: tsunamis destroyed villages, mushroom clouds detonated, and fires raged until the land was nothing but a blackened husk. With incredible focus, I honed that anger as my fingers curled around the Taser’s handle.
“What do you have in mind?” I asked. Neutral tone.
Especially because I wanted to fly at him and kill him with my bare hands. Until this moment, I was a mess, coping with the unexpected, but it was like some switch flipped in my head, and I was a mother. Not just expecting; I would do anything—
“You will pledge the child to our service. Should you make this bargain, Sibella reckons it sufficient recompense for the deal that was broken.”
Gods, the Luren didn’t know shit about human beings. First the lady knight put a whammy on my pet, thinking I intended to eat it later. Now, she honestly believed I would agree to this insane deal to save my own skin? If the situation wasn’t heart-attack serious, I’d laugh at how misguided they were.
“Do I get a grace period to think about it?”
“The last time Sibella extended you such a courtesy, you staged a coup and then fled the realm when it failed.”
“So that’s a no, then.”
By its expression, the demon wasn’t amused. “It irritates me that you don’t seem to be giving this offer the requisite amount of consideration.”
“I’m sorry. Have you prepared documents for me to sign?” My tone was snide, but the Luren didn’t seem to notice.
“In blood.”
“Really?” Belatedly I remembered how the contracts that my fallen friend Greydusk—the demon who had helped me in Sheol—signed had not only been in blood, but with an arcane compulsion as well, so if he failed to fulfill it, he died. “I’m fixing a cup of tea. Then I’ll take a look at the papers. Want anything?”
“You’d serve me hemlock,” the demon observed.
“Unfortunately, my canisters don’t run to exotic poisons.”
“Indeed. I’m glad you’re being reasonable about this. The chances are excellent that service to the Luren will come with incomparable rewards.”
“Oh yeah?” I didn’t care, but I had to keep him talking.
My brain wasn’t working nearly as fast as it should. While the Taser should render his host helpless temporarily, how the hell could I kill a demon? I wished I had one of those shining silver blades that Kel used. In Barachiel’s hand, it took out the Luren leader just fine. Unfortunately, I had dull kitchen knives and the one I’d bought from Gold Malibu’s trunk. Probably not demon-worthy.
“Those who rule the cult of personality . . . haven’t you ever wondered why people who do nothing other than exist—and look attractive—should become so absurdly famous?”
“Yeah. So the pretty people and certain reality stars are Luren?”
“Often, they’re hosts. Being famous makes for an irresistible sexual draw to a certain psyche, which offers us a rich feeding ground. Is your tea done yet?”
“Steeping now.” I dunked the tea bag a few times to show I meant business with the drink. Then I carried it over to the table. I set my purse carefully beside me on the floor within easy reach. “Let’s see the contract.”
The document he brought out of an expensive briefcase had to be fifty pages long. Reading that—and I actually was a slow reader—would take me a while. By the time I flipped the last page, I’d have a plan, or I was dead. It was that simple.
“You might want to find a book,” I suggested. “I’m not signing anything without reading the fine print. I learned that lesson on my last cell phone plan.”
To my surprise, the Luren laughed. He seemed at ease, now that he imagined we’d come to amicable terms. Which substantiated my long-held belief that the Luren tended toward the stupid end of the demon spectrum. Not that I was complaining; a smarter demon like a Birsael would’ve long since copped to my ruse and be devouring my soul in retaliation for my bullshit.
The Luren got a magazine off the side table. Since it wasn’t mine, it must belong to Booke—and gods only knew what he was reading. Instead of the contract, I peered at the cover. A travel zine. That made sense. Maybe the demon had vacation time coming . . . pity he wouldn’t live to see it. Then I remembered what he planned for my unborn child.
I paged through the contract while pretending to read, frantically racking my brain.
