“Of course you’re invited in,” he said.
Beaming, Aurora glided into the living room. “So this is the secret lair of the great shadow mage.”
Rosalind arched an eyebrow. “Vampires can’t enter without an invitation? I thought that was a myth.”
“It is,” Aurora said. “But I just feel awkward barging into someone’s house. I mean, Lilu led me here—but she’s a bird so it wasn’t, like, a proper invitation with words. And I didn’t want to be a third wheel in case you were banging.”
“You’re welcome here,” Caine said. “Bileth won’t find this house. He may track us to the waterfront, but we’re invisible to him.”
Aurora threw herself down on a chaise lounge. “I would have stayed to help with the fight, but I had a feeling you’d be doing that bone crunching thing, and I didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. You need to tell me everything that happened.” Her eyes landed on an oak liquor cabinet, and within moments, she was across the room, rooting around the glass bottles. “I’ll need a cocktail for this.”
“Bileth knows I’m a Hunter,” Rosalind said.
“How the hell did you make it out of there alive?” Aurora pulled out three Martini glasses, laying them on a tray. She filled them with whiskey. “You must’ve blinked your big eyes at him to charm him. Showed off a little of that perky cleavage.”
“Not exactly,” Caine muttered. “She impaled him with a fire poker.”
Aurora whirled, the tray of cocktails in her hands. “She did what?”
“I’m a Hunter,” Rosalind said. “I hunted him. I didn’t know he was some kind of demon royalty. And I was worried about Caine.”
Caine quirked a smile. “You were worried about me? I thought you were a Hunter. I’m pretty sure I’m among your intended prey.”
Flustered, she plucked a cocktail glass off the tray. “Maybe, but right now you’re my one hope at exorcising the spirit.”
Aurora shoved a glass in Caine’s hands, before downing her own in one go. She collapsed into a chair. “None of that matters now. We’re all dead. For real this time. Did you know Bileth is known as ‘The Scalpel’ for the way he removes people’s skin just for fun?”
Rosalind’s stomach turned a flip. When Caine had been trying to convince her that demons and Hunters were somehow morally equivalent, he’d conveniently left out the bit about The Scalpel.
Caine traced his finger along the rim of his glass. “It’s not a good situation. And, to make matters worse, we can’t kill Bileth without provoking a major war.”
“If you gave him the Hunter,” Aurora said, “he might forget the whole thing.”
Rosalind tightened her grip on the Martini glass. “You can’t give me up. It wasn’t my fault. I thought I was helping Caine.”
Aurora arched an eyebrow. “You’re really caught up in this fault thing, aren’t you? Hasn’t anyone ever told you that sometimes bad things happen to good people?”
“We’re not going to give her to Bileth,” Caine said. “Ambrose would never forgive it—and anyway, the Hunter is growing on me. At least in the rare moments when she’s quiet.”
Aurora was already refilling her drink. “You’re directly defying Ambrose’s orders to train her, so I’m a bit confused why you’re suddenly worried about his forgiveness.”
“I wasn’t going to defy him entirely,” Caine said. “I have a solution that meets Ambrose’s needs as well as hers.”
This was the first Rosalind had heard of this concept. “Wait. What solution that meets both our needs?”
“Ambrose wants the mage’s spirit to survive,” Caine said. “The spirit will simply need another body. And I have a willing host who would gladly accept this power.”
“Who?” Aurora asked.
He sipped his drink. “Me.”
Rosalind straightened. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. The mage’s mind will break you. It was physically painful. Her body was on fire. And can you really handle another soul?”
Aurora glared over her Martini glass. “What do you care what happens to him? Once you run back to the Brotherhood, it will be your job to ram an iron spear through his heart. You get that, right?”
“I won’t come for him, even if he doesn’t erase my memories.” It was the first time the thought had ever occurred to her, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew them to be true. Even if he was a demon, he’d done nothing but help her so far.
The longer she spent with the demons, the less she wanted to hunt them.
“Oh, really? You won’t hunt him now, and he’s growing fond of you?” Aurora’s eyes raked over Rosalind’s dress. “Did something happen between you two? And would that something have anything to do with the state of your clothes, and the fact that you both smell like you’ve been rolling in dirt?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rosalind said.