“With your assistance,” Styx pressed, carefully monitoring the imp’s face.
He wasn’t particularly interested in dredging up the past. He had his own share of guilt when it came to the death of his master. But he wanted to see the imp’s reaction to the reminder that Styx had every reason to want him dead.
“I had no choice.” The fey licked his lips, the smell of tainted strawberries filling the air. “I was as much a victim as the Anasso.”
Styx wrinkled his nose. Pathetic worm.
Still, he’d gotten his answer.
Keeley was terrified of him. So what the hell could drive him to try spying on this lair with the certain knowledge he would be caught?
“Why are you here?” he abruptly demanded.
The pale green eyes shifted to peer over Styx’s shoulder, as if he was looking for something. Or someone.
“I . . . heard you have a Chatri here.”
Styx grimaced. He suspected every fey in the world had heard the elusive Chatri were here. It’d taken the threat of death to run off the hordes that had gathered outside his gates trying to catch a glimpse of the royal family.
It seemed like a reasonable excuse, but Styx wasn’t buying it.
“Unfortunately I have a number of demons who are convinced they have a right to stay in my lair. What’s so special about the Chatri?”
“They are gods to us,” he said, the words sounding as if he’d memorized them. “How could I resist the opportunity to see one in the flesh, so to speak?”
Styx narrowed his gaze. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“I have no idea.” Keeley pressed two fingers to his heart, a layer of sweat beading his forehead. Not that it meant anything. Most demons tended to sweat when confronting the King of Vampires. “I swear my only interest is in the Chatri.”
There was enough truth in his words to make Styx hesitate.
Perhaps the cunning little twit did travel to Chicago because of the Chatri, but there was more going on here than a simple wish to catch sight of a pure-blooded fey.
“I’ve forbidden the public to gawk at my lair,” he at last said.
“Oh, I didn’t know.” Keeley pasted on an unconvincing smile. “I’ve been out of the country.”
“And now that you do know you will leave?”
“Of course.” The smile slowly faded beneath Styx’s steady glare, the sweat trickling down the side of his face. “Although—”
“What?”
“I can’t help but be intrigued by the sudden return of the ancients.” The imp nervously cleared his throat, his gaze continuing to dart over Styx’s shoulder. “Have they said why they have returned?”
“I assume if they wanted you to know they would tell you.”
That should have been the end of the conversation.
If his interest was nothing more than casual interest, then he would have accepted Styx’s contemptuous refusal to gossip about his houseguests.
Prodding a vampire was like poking at a snake.
A good way to get bit.
“You can’t blame my curiosity,” Keeley grimly continued. “The Chatri have been gone for so long that many of our younger generation have begun to believe they’re mere myths. It must be a compelling need to lure them from their homelands.”
So. This was more than mere nosiness.
But what?
“Extremely compelling,” he murmured, hoping to lure the imp into exposing the true reason he’d been spying on the lair.
Beating it out of him would, of course, be more fun. But there was always the chance the annoying weasel would lie.
“Does it have anything to do with fey business?” Keeley at last asked.
“No.”
“Are they considering a return to this world?”
Styx didn’t have to fake his shudder. “God forbid.”
“Then the Chatri sense trouble?”
Ah. They were getting somewhere.
“What possible trouble could they be sensing?”
“I . . .” The imp nervously licked his lips. “There’s always some sort of disruption in the demon world,” he finished lamely.
“True, but you were referring to a specific incident.”
Realizing he’d said too much, Keeley gave a strained laugh. “Don’t be silly.”
The temperature dropped as Styx narrowed his eyes. “I’m many things, but I’m never silly.”
Keeley made a choked sound. “I didn’t intend to insult you. I was merely speculating on why the Chatri were here.”
“I can smell lies, Keeley,” Styx warned. For now he was willing to use verbal intimidation since the imp’s interest seemed locked on the Chatri. The second he suspected the bastard was a threat to vampires, he intended to rip out his heart. “Why are you here?”
“I told you.” Keeley took a covert step backward, wise enough to know Styx was reaching the end of his patience. “Curiosity.”
Styx tapped one of his massive fangs with the tip of his tongue. “Try again.”
Keeley instinctively raised a hand to cover his neck. As if that would stop Styx from ripping out his throat.
Idiot.
“I wanted—”