Page 64 of Princess of Bael
The Dark Provenance fancied themselves to be a supernatural police force.
Most demons laughed it off.
But Gleason certainly proved to be admirable with his aim. Had I not engaged my shield, he would have hit me at least twice through that bush.
Now he stood in his kitchen wearing the same pajama pants and tight white T-shirt he’d ventured outside in earlier—no shoes—with his damaged pistol on the counter beside him and his good one strapped once more to his hip.
He seemed completely at ease and unfazed by the presence of Ezra in his kitchen. Instead, he took his time finishing his coffee before looking at my Archangel mate and saying, “So. What do you need?”
Yep. I definitely like this guy, I thought. No idle chitchat was absolutely the way to go in every situation. It was too bad I didn’t live nearby. We’d probably be fast friends.
“We need you to help us arrange a gathering of the Dark Provenance members,” Ezra informed him. “I want to meet them.”
Gleason folded his arms, his expression suspicious. “Why?”
“Do I need to provide a reason as the Archangel of Justice?”
I snorted.Typical.
Ezra ignored me in favor of the stoic Nephilim. He stared back at the Archangel without a single hint of fear in his features. Actually, he appeared quite unimpressed. He’d bowed earlier and clearly felt that was enough respect for one day.
Yeah, we were totally best friends in another life, I decided, my lips twitching.
He allowed his arms to fall to his sides as he straightened his shoulders, his posture screaming,I do not care who the fuck you are; I will not bow again.However, his voice remained calm as he said, “If you want me to help you arrange a meeting, you’re going to tell me why.”
Ezra’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “That’s not your place to demand.”
“But it would make the Nephilim more cooperative,” I pointed out as I glanced at Ezra. This time, he acknowledged me, his features holding a touch of annoyance. Maybe because I’d interrupted. Or more likely because I’d sided with Gleason. But it seemed like an appropriate tribute to kick off our future friendship—something that was absolutely going to happen.
Maybe he’d even help me kill Ezra.
Assuming that was what I still wanted.
“And how would it do that?” the Archangel asked, his tone holding a touch of patience, suggesting he actually wanted my explanation.
I shrugged. “Well, the culprit already knows we’re involved. Which means that he or she will know why we want to hold this meeting, right? So why not just be truthful about what’s happened and use this as a way to prepare the Nephilim for what’s coming?”
Because even if we managed to find Kristina’s killer, the balance would continue to shift.
Which meant that we needed to prepare as many allies as possible for the eventual fallout.
Ezra considered me for a moment, his eyes still narrowed. Then he returned his attention to Gleason and sighed.
“She’s right,” he admitted, shocking me into silence as he jumped straight to the events of what had happened the other day. Except he left out my involvement in his explanation, merely stating that he and the Divinity had been fixing a break in the veil when a demon had ambushed them with a venom bomb.
“A venom bomb?” Gleason repeated.
“Yeah,” Ezra muttered. “Made from a Slither.”
Gleason visibly shuddered.
And Ezra continued his story, telling the Nephilim about Kristina being kidnapped and later killed.
“We think it’s a Nephilim who did it,” Ezra concluded.
“Why?” Gleason pressed.
“Because we can’t sense her power anywhere,” Ezra explained. “Which means we’re dealing with either a Nephilim or a being well versed in concealment.”
