He watched me closely, noting the rise and fall of my tone, the tight grip on my coffee cup. “Yet here you sit. Alive.”
“Fine, forget it. I’m not talking in circles with you tonight. I just want to know why Lilah wants me dead and what I can do about it.”
Shya’s gaze dropped to the dragon etched into my flesh. It began to itch and burn. I sat stiffly, refusing to scratch it like I wanted.
“Lilah wants to break the curse that holds her in a corporeal form. With her power angelically bound, Lilah, a goddess of the underworld, becomes a run of the mill vampire.” The demon scanned the vicinity curiously. “A vampire. A creature that you have power over. You can keep her from breaking the curse, so of course she wants you dead.”
I chewed on that for a minute, letting my gaze wander over the crowd on the dance floor. Lilah was desperate. I had seen it in her eyes the night she gave me the Dragon Claw. Desperation would drive people to do crazy things. Demons, likely more so.
“Makes sense,” I acknowledged. “Where do you stand on all this?”
Shya’s lips twitched. The haughty way he held himself and the amusement perpetually dancing in his eyes made him appear entertained and disaffected, yet a subtle shift in his energy betrayed his unease. Despite always surrounding myself with my best shields around Shya, I could feel it.
“Lilah’s curse is best left intact.”
A man of few but effective words tonight; I could respect that. “Why exactly do we not want her to break it? Give me something here.”
“Brush up on your demonology. Lilah is the firstborn granddaughter of Lilith, the first human to become a demon, a powerful bloodline. Free of that curse, she’d resume her rightful place as a dark goddess.”
Shya tapped his fingers on the counter. He spoke as if he were in a rush, the white rabbit realizing he was late.
“I know who Lilith is,” I replied, watching him anxiously pick at an invisible thread on his sleeve. “I thought that story was a myth. So, why don’t we want Lilah to reclaim her throne? Stop being such a damn demon and spit out something I can work with.”
Shya’s eagerness to leave was obvious and annoying. The bastard had burned his mark into me, yet he couldn’t give me ten minutes of his uninterrupted time? Bullshit.
“Goddess of Chaos.” He slammed a fist down on the bar. “Should be self-explanatory.”
“You have more power than she does. Right now. You want to keep it that way.” I wasn’t asking; I saw one of those opportunities Arys had warned me to watch for, and I took it.
The demon eyed me suspiciously, one finely sculpted brow raised. “Yes.”
“Then tell me how to kill her.”
A frown marred Shya’s smooth features. “Killing her would only destroy her physical body.”
Oh hell, I groaned inwardly. Demons never ceased to astound me. Something came to me then; Lilah had handled Shya’s dagger gingerly.
“That’s something she doesn’t want either. She was wary of the Dragon Claw.”
“No, if her body is destroyed, she would return to her angelic cage.”
I was confused. “I don’t get it. That sounds like a pretty good place for her to me. So why don’t we just send her there?”
Shya leaned in close, invading my personal space. He smelled like cinnamon and sulfur. “No. Eventually she would manipulate a weak angel; she would return to destroy us. Do you understand? Even angels cannot destroy a demon as powerful as Lilah. They can only contain her. We should bind her here, where we have control.”
“A weak angel,” I whispered, more to myself than to Shya. “Like Falon?”
“Falon?” Shya repeated, his eyes on the front entry behind me. He didn’t get another word out before a commotion broke out in the lobby.
Shouts rang out, and the atmosphere became chaotic and frenzied. Several patrons stopped to see what was going on, but more continued to dance in oblivion. I got to my feet to check things out at the same moment my sister appeared in the doorway.
Two heavily built men in dark suits flanked Juliet. Each of them wore a gun at the hip. One carried what looked to be a heavy-duty taser. Shaz was at Juliet’s side, speaking in low tones. She ignored him, striding toward me while he kept pace with her. One of my other security guys lingered in the entry, blood streaming from his nose.
I turned to see what Shya made of this, but he was gone. The stool where he’d sat was empty. Only his fading scent remained. Figures.
“Nice to see you again, Ms. Fitzgerald,” I greeted her with a brittle smile. “I trust this is not a personal visit.”
So, the FPA had sent my own sister to bring me in for Abigail Irving’s death. Nice move. Very well played. I knew it had been too much to hope we could resume a familial relationship. We had been dead to one another since that night over a decade ago.