Page 93 of Paramour of Sin
He cocked his head to the side. “As your Second, I frequently task lower-level demons with assignments meant to protect you. Would you like a list?” His tone told me he meant that seriously, not sarcastically.
I sighed, then scratched the stubble along my jaw. I’d just trimmed it this morning, and already it felt uneven. “No, I trust you.” I meant it. My frustration lay with Amarella, not him. “Has your Tracker found anything on Creek?”
“He’s not reported anything back to me yet, but I can follow-up.”
“Do,” I said, sighing. “What did he want to know about me?”
“He asked about your ascension, and then asked me why I didn’t have my own territory. I told him I didn’t want one. Then he asked me if I liked working for you.”
“And?”
“I told him I hate it,” he deadpanned, making me smirk. “I told him it wasn’t his fucking business,” he rephrased. “He laughed, and the conversation fizzled out from there.” He lifted a shoulder. “It was the usual questions. Everyone wants to know why I don’t demand my own city. Blah. Blah. Blah.”
“Do you want one?” I offered.
He grunted. “Still no.”
“Just checking.” Not really. Because I knew he didn’t desire to lead. It wasn’t exactly a normal trait for an Ordinatum, but it worked for Ragus. “If you find anything, let me know.”
“I will.” He leaned forward, curiosity coloring his usually stoic expression. “Why are you looking at club footage of Creek?”
“Dark Provenance is tailing him as a new recruit. Which is lucky for us because”—I moved the keys around on my hologram board and pulled up the surveillance of Amarella—“we found this.”
His lips parted, his shock palpable. “Amarella?” He jumped out of his seat to better see the image. “How in the fuck…?”
“My question exactly,” I replied. “She was at the club the night Taylor Smith died.”
“That’s the human accountant?”
“Yeah.” I shifted the image so he could see who Amarella was talking to. “Definitely not a coincidence.”
“No, I’d say not.” He shook his head, his dark hair falling into his equally dark eyes. “What do you want me to do?”
“Protect Guinevere,” I said without missing a beat. “Because I suspect she’s next on the target list.”
He nodded. “Consider it done.”
“Good.” I palmed the back of my neck and met his gaze. “She’s…” I trailed off, uncertain of how to phrase this. The practical part of me realized it the moment I saw the image of Amarella. But a deeper part of me—a part that hadfeelings—didn’t like the realization I was about to voice.
However, it needed to be said.
“I need to use Guinevere… as bait.” The words stuck in my throat and dripped like acid over my lips, but that didn’t make them any less true. “Amarella clearly has her sights set on her already, which explains why Guinevere was framed for the murders. To catch Amarella, I need to use Guinevere as leverage.”
He considered me a moment. “Will you be able to do that?”
I hated how well he read me. “I’m not sure I have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice, my lord,” he replied.
And therein lay my problem. I pushed away from my desk to make myself a drink. I didn’t care that it was only three or four in the afternoon. I needed something stiff to help me think this through. “Amarella wants to hurt me. She’s clearly clued into my relationship with Guinevere.”
“Yet she’s left Zane alone,” he pointed out.
I considered that a moment. “She wouldn't see Zane as competition.”
“He’s an Incubus.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Which means he has a set of traits she can’t replicate. And she’s strategic enough to respect that. But Guinevere…” I trailed off as I poured some amber liquid into a glass.
