Page 55 of The Last Slayer
“At least your manners have improved. Courtly, I see.”
“For someone as beautiful as you, always,” he murmured and let go of her hand.
Centuries-old grudge or not, he wasn’t immune to her. I saw the way his pupils dilated, darkening to the deepest jade. Why not? I was straight, and even I felt the pull of her sexuality. But that didn’t mean I felt okay with his reaction to her. I really needed to stop obsessing about him liking someone else. Ramiel was at least half a millennium old, and he had probably bedded every supernatural babe there was.
Nahemah took a step forward, coming closer to me. She reached out to grasp my chin. I remained where I was, but jerked my face from her hand.
She laughed. “What a spirited girl! Come. I’m sure you have an interesting proposal for me.”
She turned around and swayed into the Lunar Garden, leashes trailing and pets competing to be closest to her. Ramiel and I followed.
A lot of strange night foliage and herbs grew in the garden. The footpath was just wide enough for Nahemah and her groveling samaels. I wondered if any of their names was Samuel. Samuel the samael. Maybe alliteration would make the groveling easier.
As we brushed by the herbs, the scent of mint and rosemary wafted from the dark leaves. I doubted they were real. I may have a black thumb, but I know what mint and rosemary look like. These plants had silver-white leaves and small clusters of red flowers with petals that hung like drops of blood.
Finally, we entered a flat, one-story structure. Only the tall engaged columns marked it as the grand hall. The glass between them gave us a gorgeous view of the garden around the building. Liliths and samaels in humble cotton robes watered Nahemah’s plants. It looked paradisiacal—a beautiful magical garden and handsome young people tending it with joy in their hearts, all for their lady. The image tugged at me, and I felt an unexpected pang of longing. Then I shook my head. I was not here to offer myself up to Nahemah.
Our hostess led us to an intimate table for four by an alcove. A blue and white jade statuette of a unicorn occupied the nook. A lilith in a lavender Grecian shift served us cool mint wine and fresh fruit. When neither Ramiel nor I touched the offering, Nahemah smirked and sipped her drink.
“Shall I test yours?” she asked, her eyes glittering.
Her voice held no malice or mockery. Still, I wouldn’t eat anything from her without a guarantee. Despite her graciousness, something about her made my skin crawl.
She sighed. “Oh, all right. I swear the food and drink you see on the table are safe to consume. No magic, no tricks.”
Good enough. I finally tried the wine. The red petals I’d seen outside floated on the surface. It was quite refreshing and sweet, with a strong mint aftertaste. Ramiel merely toyed with his glass. It looked fragile in his large hand.
“So.” Nahemah leaned back in her chair. Her skin positively glowed in the moonlight. “The sky is beautiful tonight, isn’t it? The moon is ripe for harvesting.”
I took the opening. What was the point of exchanging pointless banter? I wasn’t good at it, and I wanted to get the visit over with. “I’d like your help to enter the Mystic Forest.”
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Her eyebrows rose, and her mouth formed a small O. Her act didn’t fool me. She knew why I’d come. Hell, I bet the entire supernatural realm knew what I was up to.
“That’s quite the task. It requires an enormous amount of magic.” She placed her glass neatly on the table. Her red lacquered nails ran over the tabletop before coming to rest on a large sapphire pendant between her breasts. “Furthermore, if I help you, Nathanael, Semangelaf and Apollyon will never forgive me. So why should I?”
I tensed. Had she been approached by them already? Was she their ally?
“Because you’re your own mistress,” Ramiel said.
Something flickered in Nahemah’s eyes. She tucked a wayward tendril behind an ear and gazed at Ramiel with a hint of amusement.
“So I am. But why give something for nothing?” She gestured at the mortals toiling away around her. “They offer me their service in return for a chance at eternal youth.” She tilted her head in my direction, night-black curls spilling over her shoulder. “Are you offering your service to me?”
“Most. Definitely. Not.”
“Then?”
“I don’t know enough about you to know what you want. But there must be something I can give you.”
She put a finger over her lower lip and considered. “Well, there is one thing…”
I sipped my wine and waited for it.
“Dinner.”
“Excuse me?” I hoped she hadn’t just asked me to make her dinner. I watched the Food Network when I could, sure, but I wouldn’t serve what I’d made to anyone, unless I wanted to risk earning their enmity for life. Why else would I practically live on General Tso’s chicken from Lotus Blossom?
