Page 69

I wished I’d had long enough to get better control of the one spell I could do, but from what Iyoni had said, that might take years. At least Virelle had called my shield powerful, and she should know. That, Farron’s buckler, the dagger I’d found, and a healthy boost to my strength and speed.

Paltry weapons against a demon as strong as Moreau.

“Here we go,” Kara said, starting the engine. I opened my eyes as Dacien’s SUV turned through the parking lot ahead of us, and back onto the road.

88 Boyd Avenue turned out to be a supply depot of some type, with a commercial estate agent’s sign advertising space available.

For all that, the parking lot was suspiciously full of vehicles. Proof, if we needed it, that Moreau had stacked the deck in his favor.

Seven of us—including Virelle’s two guards—against how many?

Moreau had a man on the door, watching us as we climbed out of the cars. I waited until we were all ready, then headed toward him.

But barely had I taken a step when Virelle grabbed Dacien’s arm with a sense of urgency.

I paused, giving her a curious look.

“They’re not in position,” Virelle murmured. “Apparently, Moreau has men around the building. They need more time.”

I couldn’t see whatever communication device she was using, but I didn’t need to. “They anticipated our move,” I said quietly, conscious of Moreau’s doorman only a few dozen feet away. “But they know we’re here. If we don’t go in now, he’ll guess something’s wrong.”

“Then we buy time,” Dacien muttered, his posture casual but his eyes tight, betraying his discomfort. “Moreau likes to talk; shouldn’t be too difficult.”

We began walking again at a leisurely pace, and I fought the urge to glance to the sides and look for Moreau’s men—or ours.

The doorman muttered something as we walked up. A wire ran down the side of his neck marking an earpiece, and it was safe to assume he’d announced our arrival.

He held up one hand. “Which of you are Dacien and Xan?”

Like he didn’t know.

“I’m Xan,” I said, stepping forward, then gestured accordingly. “This is Dacien.”

“Just you two.”

I held his gaze and channeled some of Kara’s disdain. “We both know that’s not going to happen, so either you get out of our way, or we get back in the cars.”

He didn’t even blink, merely spoke again, but not to us. “Halden and Sullivan plus five guests.” He pressed a finger to his ear, listening to the answer, then stepped aside. “Go on in.”

That had been too easy. If Moreau didn’t even care to protest our guards, we must be more outnumbered than I’d thought. Or maybe a hint of the overconfidence and arrogance Virelle had alluded to?

We walked into a hallway with an unmanned reception desk, a further set of double doors beyond, standing open.

Through these was an enormous space, the entirety of the building, rough concrete floor and walls, and nothing else.

Moreau waited a good hundred paces inside, flanked by four of his guards: three men in dark suits, and a woman dressed elegantly in slacks and a leather jacket.

But as soon as we entered, it became apparent that wasn’t all he’d brought.

Two lines of unsmiling, dark-suited men watched us as we made the walk toward Moreau. Ten on each side, which made twenty-four guards in total.

The doors closed behind us, and the doorman stood before them, hands clasped in front of him like he wasn’t moving for any reason. Twenty-five, then, for what difference it made.

We were outnumbered four-to-one. That was about what I expected.

I wondered where Dacien’s men were. We could use them about now.

“Xan,” Moreau said as we drew closer, his voice echoing through the cavernous space. “The company you keep is a surprise.”

So we were still playing games. What did he want, an introduction?

I didn’t bother to give him one, stopping a dozen feet back and slightly to one side, letting the two men square off.

It also put me in a neutral position, but slightly closer to Moreau, like I was subtly aligning myself with him.

Still selling the illusion. Kara and Iyoni stood at my sides, both half a pace back.

Virelle managed to look bored, and the two guards we’d brought stood behind her, their heads on a swivel, trying to watch threats from far too many angles.

Dacien puffed out his chest and crossed his arms. “Why are we meeting here, Silas? Why the reception committee?”

I used the distraction of their conversation to focus on the supes around me, gauging their powers. Most of them were midrange, one or two below that, but the three men flanking Moreau were all strong. Easily the equal of Kara before I’d bonded her, but she had the edge now.

“Didn’t Xan tell you?” Moreau asked, like he was enjoying himself.

The woman was another matter entirely. I picked up fae illusion magic, and she was on Iyoni’s level. A significant threat.

“He said you wanted to meet. I expected brandy and cigars, not”—Dacien gestured with one hand, taking in the building and the unsmiling, evenly-spaced welcoming committee—“this.”

“I don’t drink with traitors,” Moreau replied, his tone civil, belying the words.

Dacien stiffened only slightly, letting his brow furrow, the picture of innocent puzzlement. “What are you accusing me of?” he said. “We’ve worked together for a decade.”

“True,” Moreau said. “Which is why this hurts all the more.”

Which was rich, given that he’d been attacking Dacien’s empire.

The hypocrisy in the room was staggering, yet they both treated each other like old friends. If it weren’t for the covenant I’d made with Virelle and the ease with which Moreau dropped threats, I’d think I was the one who’d been set up.

The thought wasn’t comforting.

I ran the tip of my thumb down my ring finger, ready to hit Farron’s buckler as soon as it was needed.

“What am I supposed to have done?” Dacien asked, as though he was guilty and playing dumb. Ironic, when he was innocent.

“As if you don’t know,” Moreau said, like he was commenting on the weather. “How much of my money do you have?”

Dacien shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the movement slight, just enough to portray discomfort. “I’d have to check with my people—”

“Don’t give me that,” Moreau spat, his acerbic response finally breaking through his civil facade.

Dacien inclined his head. “Approximately eight hundred and forty million.”

It would’ve been just numbers, if it didn’t represent the illegal takings from a multitude of illicit practices. I wondered how many lives had been destroyed to make so much money.

It was also quite the motive. Dacien’s eagerness to do away with Moreau now smacked as much of greed as revenge.

“We’ve been remiss in introductions,” Moreau said. He turned to gesture at the woman standing to one side. “You may not have met her, but I presume you’ve heard of Marietta Kye? She’s recently joined me.”

Yesterday, to be exact.

“I’ve not had the pleasure,” Dacien drawled, but his eyes narrowed.

“Few have and survived it,” Moreau went on, enjoying his reveal. “She has more assassinations to her name than any other supe in … well, history.”

“It’s all very dramatic,” Dacien said, “but if you wanted back your money, all you had to do was ask. A disappointment, with all the trust we’ve built…”

“Trust?” Moreau scoffed. “On that note, there’s someone else I’d like you to meet.” He waved at me. “This is Xan Sullivan, and he’s a warlock.”

“Obviously.” Dacien let his brow furrow in puzzlement. “He works for me.”

“Ah,” Moreau said. “And therein lies the rub. In fact, he works for me .”

Dacien glanced at me, his face a model of hurt confusion, which he tried to cover before Moreau could see.

I had to hand it to him; he was a brilliant actor.

Even Virelle, standing by his side, narrowed her eyes at Dacien as if she’d just realized she should be paying attention.

The model of the bored housewife, realizing her husband might abruptly run into difficulties paying off her credit card.

“I don’t understand,” Dacien blustered.

“It’s simple enough,” Moreau said. “Anyone who tries to cheat me dies.”

“I haven’t—”

Moreau cut through the air with his hand. “Enough. Enough of this charade.” He crossed his arms. “Xan—kill him.”