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Malakai released Travis with a shove, practically throwing him back in the car. Travis rolled up the window and cut the engine. He opened his door, and when he was halfway out Malakai slapped it shut, nailing Travis in the knee.

Travis swore.

“Pussy,” Malakai muttered as he made for the gates, his shoulder-length, reddish hair blowing behind him in a breeze.

“You look like you belong in a shampoo commercial!” Travis called. “You sure you’re in the right line of work?”

Malakai gave him the middle finger.

It was cool tonight, but spring was coming up quick. With the Veil having nearly fallen not even two weeks ago, Travis and the other Devils found themselves on edge whenever the temperature dropped, or the sky decided to open with rain.

But this was normal. Angelthene had always experienced rain and cooler spells in the winter months.

Funny how a person could wind up fearing something that had once been so innocent.

Travis limped after the Reaper, barely making it through the gates Malakai tried to shut on him.

“Malakai!” Jewels snapped. “Quit being an ass and leave him alone, will you? This is important.”

She disappeared inside the house, her short leather skirt swishing. She wore a cropped tee with a heavy metal band logo on the front, tour dates listed on the back. Travis didn’t catch the name of the band, but he made a mental note to bring it up later. He loved that kind of music; it would be a good conversation starter for someone who loathed conversation.

Sex, he was good at. Really good at, if he felt like boasting. Talking? Ehhh…not his strong suit.

Malakai fell into stride beside him as they neared the steps. “You’d better hope it’s important,” the Reaper threatened, eyes flickering black again.

“Why are you such an asshole?” Travis demanded.

Malakai merely gave him the middle finger again before stalking up the front steps and through the door—another door he shut in his face.

Travis considered himself lucky that the asshole didn’t lock it.

The inside of the house was quiet, save for the droning of voices on a television. Travis followed the sound into the living room, where he found Jewels standing in front of the TV, remote in hand. Her brother stood beside her, arms crossed, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he glared Travis down. Valen Hayes and Sylvan Wolfe were lounging on the leather couch, glasses of whiskey in hand, looking just as miffed as Malakai to see Travis here.

Jewels said, “Would you forget about protecting me for five minutes and take a look at who’s on TV?” She used the remote to gesture to the screen in frustration.

Travis gave up on his staring contest with Malakai, the Reaper doing the same. Looked at the screen—

And blinked. Stepped closer.

Travis couldn’t believe his eyes.

The Terran Imperator was on television. The imperator—who should have died in Spirit Terra when Loren shut the rip in the Veil.

“Is this live?” Malakai bit out.

“It was,” Jewels said. “Earlier this evening. I recorded it.”

Quinton Lucent was speaking about the losses and damages the city had sustained during the Blood Moon. Of course, he said nothing of Spirit Terra, nor his direct involvement in the whole mess.

Jewels hit the pause button on the remote. “Look!” She waved wildly at the TV. “Right there!”

Malakai’s brow creased. “What am I looking for?”

She stepped up to the TV and jabbed her finger into the screen.

The imperator was looking to the left, the angle showing a sheen of teal in his pupils.

Valen said, “I still don’t see what you’re talking about.”