Bereft

- 32 -

"I told you not to play dumb with me, Darius." The savage look on the woman's face was a startling contrast to her sophisticated—if now dusty—attire. "Killing my employees to fuck with my contract is against the bloody rules!" She jabbed a finger in his direction, ignoring the steady drip of red falling from the hand. "The Baal will hear of this. He will have you back in the fire for another thirty years!"

"Before the Baal hears of this, I would like to hear about this absolute shit you're spewing." Darius' voice was calm, but his shoulders were stiff and his hands were balled into waiting fists. "I haven't killed any of your employees. I could care less about you or your contract. I wouldn't be here at all but for you throwing my host off your roof!"

Amoroth clipped out a word in a language I didn't understand. It didn't sound complimentary. In her ire, the woman's tone had subtly shifted to adopt the barest sibilance of a West Country accent. "Employees murdered, blackmailed, quitting without notice, leaving half of my departments crippled and limping along untended at half-capacity!" She yelled into the wind, voicing her mounting frustration. "Someone's going to answer for this!"

"And you think it was me? Blackmail's not quite my mode of operation, is it?" Darius smiled, baring his white, sharp teeth in an ugly display. No, blackmail didn't strike me as a tool Darius wielded well. It required finesse and Darius...Darius hadn't shown much finesse in our dealings thus far. He was a person who would light candles with a flamethrower, and would gladly rip out someone's tongue before attempting to buy their silence with blackmail.

Amoroth thought Darius was the Klau Killer. Interesting. I had suspected it was her.

The Sin of Lust straightened her cuffs in a decidedly masculine manner before pushing out her chest and swatting aside her loose hair. The look she gave Darius was perilous, but calculating. "Not you, you say?"

Exasperated, Darius ran a hand through his hair and tugged at the short strands as he spat on the concrete. "No. Why, by the King's dying breath, would I even care?"

Amoroth kept dusting off her ruined attire, her attention wavering over Darius, eyes alighting upon me for the barest of seconds. She patted the front pocket of her jacket, checking for something. "Let's say I believe you, for the moment," she told Darius, her first step in his direction wobbling off-balance, the heel of one of her stilettos ripped off. Disgusted, Amoroth kicked the shoes away and stood in her bare feet, still managing to be poised and elegant. "I'm going to need a certain...insurance policy, hmm? A way to keep you on your very best behavior, Darius."

"What are you talking about—?"

She was already gone, absorbed by the lingering Realm. I held my breath and waited. Darius' eyes narrowed in thought—then flew open as he jerked to the side, facing me. "Sara!"

His warning came too late. Just as he opened his mouth to call my name, I felt heat explode at my back in an ash-laden downdraft and fingers clamped around my forearm. Suddenly I fell into the darkness of the Realm for a second time today, unable to draw a breath in preparation for the crushing sensation. Pain erupted from my side and I howled soundlessly into the mire of red and black nothingness. Amoroth's grip tightened as she towed me in her wake, but my entire being sank beneath the mounting pressure—and I took the Sin of Lust with me.

We were flung out of the Realm like two ships thrown from a tempest. I heard Amoroth grunt as she collapsed next to me on the chilled marble beneath us. I caught her eyes as the woman shoved her hair out of her face, spitting out a mouthful of it. "That is not supposed to happen," she muttered before turning her attention to the rest of the room.

With a thrill, I realized I knew where Amoroth had dropped us. I recognized the uncomfortable black leather furniture and the ugly—but undoubtedly expensive—piece of modern art hung on the wall. It depicted the impressionistic image of gangly, half-formed people raising cups of red wine to a green sun. I thought it was one of the ugliest paintings I had ever laid eyes on, but I nonetheless recognized it. We were in Gregor Eoul's office.