I wanted to snap that a used car salesman could tell me Myrial had it in for me, and I’d believe them... because, duh. But the words caught in my throat. The truth was, Rans and I probably would have wondered if the message were part of some elaborate scheme by Nigellus, if it had come solely from Edward.
“More importantly than that,” Edward continued, “with Myrial in Hell and obviously able to defeat any attempt we made at guarding your father, there was a fair amount of evidence that young Darryl here would in fact be safer on Earth. So I brought him.”
“Which demon is he bound to?” I asked in a flat tone.
“To Nigellus, of course,” Edward said quietly.
“Of course,” I muttered.
Apparently, Dad was finally ready to rejoin our regularly scheduled conversation. “What does it matter now, Zorah?” he asked, with a hint of bitterness. “I needed to get to you, and that was the price to do it. It’s done.”
“What does it matter?” I echoed, conveniently ignoring the fact that I’d been all too ready to bind my soul to Nigellus once upon a time, if that’s what it took to get me out of Hell and back to Rans. “He could keep you alive for centuries, Dad! Centuries! Or he could kill you tomorrow if he happens to need a quick power boost! He can do anything he wants to you because he owns your fucking soul now!”
Edward’s brow furrowed, the parchment-like wrinkles deepening. “Nigellus isn’t going to kill your father on a whim, Zorah. You must know that.”
I threw my hands up. “Oh, really? What—did he give you his word about that? Because, hey, it’s not like he has a track record of manipulating or betraying people, right?”
There was a certain hardness forming behind Edward’s gaze. It was, I imagined, the sort of steel belonging to a guy who would purposely place himself between a near-stranger and an angry demon, or joke about being blown up by a howitzer during World War I.
“He’s never betrayed me, miss,” he said—and, yeah, there was a definite don’t-fuck-with-me-on-this vibe beneath Edward’s normally mild tones.
I ignored it. “That you know of,” I shot back.
Edward seemed to make an effort to shake himself back into his normal cloak of affability.
“Well,” he said, “if he has, it’s never materially affected me over the course of more than three hundred and fifty years. So, would it truly count as a betrayal in the first place?”
Rans shifted restlessly, crossing his arms. “We’re not here to debate moral philosophy.”
“Indeed not, sir,” Edward agreed. “The way I see it, there are two possibilities. First, Myrial may have decided the best bet is to eliminate every vampire except the one bound to him.”
“So you already know about Guthrie, then,” I said.
“Of course, miss,” Edward replied. “Nigellus briefed me fully upon his return to Hell. However, as I stated earlier, I wasn’t aware of your recent... transition. But it doesn’t affect the calculus in this instance. Eliminating Ransley would still suffice to eliminate the entire vampire population within the three realms, save one.”
Rans’ shoulders were tense as he continued to lean against the wall. “Clearly, the second possibility is that Myrial made threats against Zorah in hopes that Darryl here would do exactly what he’s just done—come to Earth and make contact with her. Which would imply some sort of a trap.”
“It’s certainly possible, sir,” Edward agreed without hesitation.
“Great. If you knew that, then why do it?” I demanded, throwing my hands up again.
Edward held my gaze without flinching. “Because I’m tasked with protecting your father, miss. Hell is demonstrably no longer safe for him. Earth may or may not be safe. That makes it the preferable option, at least for the moment.”
I wanted to yell at him some more. Like... really wanted to. But in the end, how was I supposed to argue with that logic? Some of my anger leaked out like air from a deflating balloon, and I slumped in place, scrubbing at my eyes with one hand.
“Fine,” I said. “You got him here safely and delivered Myrial’s message, for better or worse. So... now what are we supposed to do?”
Rans pushed away from the wall, still looking decidedly tense. “Edward—you say that Nigellus returned to Hell immediately after shepherding the two of you through the gate?”
Edward nodded. “He did, sir. His intention was to continue keeping Myrial tied up with the Council for as long as is feasible. And honestly, given the degree to which demons enjoy listening to the sound of their own voices, that could be some time.”
“Leaving us in relative safety, at least on that particular front,” Rans mused.
My cynicism reared its ugly head almost immediately. “Assuming, of course, that the Hell-bitch doesn’t just decide to sic someone else on us. Caspian, for instance.”
“Who’s Caspian?” my father asked, sounding completely lost.
“A Fae general who’s secretly allied with Myrial, because they both want to destabilize things and restart the war between Hell and Dhuinne,” I synopsized. After a brief pause, I continued with something that had been on my mind for several days now. “Look, you guys. I think we’re going about this all wrong. Maybe it’s time we—”
My observation was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a blazing oval ring in the center of my living room. I scrambled to place myself between the unexpected Fae portal and my father, half-convinced that Caspian himself was about to come through it with guns blazing.
The figure that did emerge from the tear in reality was a less threatening, but no less unexpected one. Rans—who’d been poised to lunge for the intruder—made a disgruntled noise and stepped back. Albigard closed the portal behind him with a snap. His penetrating gaze played over the room before landing firmly on me. He looked... disheveled, which wasn’t a
