George’s eyes grew large and black, and a dank smell of rotting leaves filled the room. “Do not speak of him that way,” he growled.
The floorboards rattled, and the wood splintered and buckled. In the next moment, thick, black roots burst from the floorboards, entwining Jack’s legs to the chairs, enclosing the succubus. Slick, midnight-blue leaves grew around them.
“What’s going on?” Munroe squealed.
“Stop it, George!” hissed Amauberge, the roots climbing up her dress.
“George,” Jack said evenly. “Amauberge was just being friendly, I believe, in the only way a succubus knows how. They’re simple creatures. Anyone can see that she loves you.”
George blinked, his eyes clearing. “She does?”
The tree roots loosened around Jack’s legs. “It’s obvious to me. Succubi feed off grief and regret. And in that regard, I know of no one who could keep her more satisfied than you.”
George’s face brightened. “That’s true. No one has known more sorrow than I.”
“I’m very happy, darling,” purred Amauberge, still wrapped in roots. Jack could only hope George didn’t detect the sarcasm in her tone.
“Of course you are. I give you plenty to eat.” George’s shoulders relaxed, and the roots slipped back through the shattered floorboards.
“That was weird,” Munroe drawled.
Eva had hardly moved, staring dully at the floor. Spelled into compliance, no doubt.
George’s mouth quirked. “Sometimes we have misunderstandings, my wife and I. Sometimes she doesn’t obey me the way a wife should.”
Jack cast a hungry glance at the servant girl, who still lingered near the doorway. “Love between two ancient demons aligned with different gods is bound to be messy. I can help you, if you want.”
George rested his chin in his hand. “You can?”
Jack leaned back in his chair, licking his lips at the smell of the redhead across from him. A little more of her fear was breaking through, and Jack wanted to rip open her belly and revel in her entrails. “My project, as you called it. The Holy Grail. If I found it, I would have the power to rewrite the spell that created the world.”
“It’s a lot of power for one person,” said George. “Too much power.”
“Of course I’d look after my friends. I’d like you to rewrite the spell with me. We could make sure that your wife always displayed her love; always obeyed you.” The fact was, he would need George’s vast knowledge to figure out what exactly the relic did in the first place. There were rumors that it could rewrite the entire universe, but he wasn’t sure if he entirely believed them. All he really knew was that he needed it to solve his little afterlife problem.
George’s eyes widened. “You could make her more loving?”
Jack nodded, taking a bite of meatball, rich and lightly seasoned.
Amauberge rolled her eyes. “He means more obedient.”
Pouting, George traced the rim of his wine glass. “I would like ten. Ten loving and obedient wives, who look like this one and do whatever I say. My mind-control abilities don’t work on her.”
“Is there a way you could persuade your wife to tell me what she knows? Then we can all live together, happily. In a tower in the city, or even a yellow house in the woods with a fireplace. Always together.”
George leaned back in his chair. “We’ll tell you what we know.”
Jack smiled, biting into the tenderloin. So easy to manipulate.
“Amauberge tried to take the encrypted information to Nyxobas,” said George. “She wanted to bargain with him. Isn’t that right, darling? She wanted to be named Queen of the Night World. As well she should be. But Nyxobas wouldn’t agree. He said the relic was of no use to him.”
Seven hells. Of no use? Something that could entirely change the universe? “What exactly was the information?”
“That, I don’t know. Amauberge?”
She cocked her head. “You know, I never thought to read it. I don’t even know what kind of information it contained. And when Nyxobas wouldn’t take it, I threw it into the river.”
Rage spread through him like a cancer. His phantom life—the one with Fiona and the yellow house, the fireplace and warm hands—withered before his eyes. “You didn’t read it.”
She smiled sweetly. “I guess my darling husband will just have to do without his ten obedient wives.”
36
Fiona
With Rohan by her side, Fiona stood on Fiddler’s Green’s rocky eastern shore. The recruits awaited the pirates’ arrival, and russet sunlight glinted off the water. A thick smell of seaweed hung in the humid air, and a gull cried overhead.
Two small sailboats were moored in the bay, one with green sails, its side blazoned with the word Kraken in gold paint. Next to it, a boat called the Old Roger bobbed in the water, white skulls staring out from its black sails.
Whatever happened today, she needed to impress Nod. She would do whatever it took.