Rohan fumbled his bounce, dropping the ball which rolled away. “You can’t be serious.”
“Gelman’s promising leads could take weeks to pan out. If ever. We don’t have that kind of time. If there’s a demon who’s capable of narrowing down our search? It’s worth pursuing.”
“No.” Rohan cleared the court in fast, angry strides.
I jogged after him. “Why not? Like you said, I already dealt with the zizu.”
“No past history there. You’re not going to see the marid demon who’s thousands of years old, who you almost killed, who almost certainly wants to kill you back. Who probably will.”
“I learned a new word today. Autocratic. Look it up.”
He stopped at the bottom of the back stairs, his expression grim. “I lost Asha because I was an asshole. But if I have to be an asshole to save you, I’ll do it.”
“Then you’ll lose me anyway.”
Rohan raked a hand through his hair. “‘He wants me dead.’ That’s a direct quote from your debrief.”
“I remember. But Malik is also very interested in his own self-preservation and the goings-on in his world. He’ll have a vested interest in finding out who’s behind this.”
“It’s a suicide mission.”
“Every time we step out the door as Rasha, it’s a suicide mission. Take emotion out of this.”
Don’t make me your new cause. It would be an easy mantle to assume for a man with an overdeveloped sense of responsibility towards those he wanted to protect, but our relationship had to stand apart from all that.
“Fuck.” He shook his head, the fight draining out of him. “You’re a glutton for punishment.”
“Not really. I like being alive.” I shrugged. “I do seem to see things differently from the other Rasha.”
“Do we get to be in this together?”
“I think that between what I have to tell him and his fascination with Ari, I’ll be safe. I can’t say the same for you and I won’t risk having you there.”
“New word for you. Hypocrite.”
“I can live with that.” I slid my arms around his waist. “Can you?”
His lips flattened into a stern line before he shook his head with a weary sigh. “Promise me you’ll be careful.” His hold on me tightened. “People who keep their promises get very good rewards.”
“Cuntessa is very happy to hear that.”
“Cuntessa?”
I screwed my expression into adorable confusion and pulled away. “What?”
“Cuntessa? Nava,” he purred. “Spill.”
“Tell me the Passover story.”
His counteroffer was to tickle my hips.
“It’s my clit,” I gasped, batting his hands away. “Cuntessa de Spluge.”
“You named your clit Cuntessa?”
“Like you’re one to talk, dude who is cheating on me with his car.”
“Aw, Sparky, you’re a close second in my affections.”
I shoved him away. “I’m leaving and you suck.”
He snickered, then swung me in to his chest. “Promise me.”
I kissed him. “I promise.”
Man, was it gonna bite if he was right and I ended up dead.
13
“I love home delivery.” Malik lounged in his doorway, eyeing me the way the wolf must have with the three little pigs. His British accent was pure sin.
“I love your arrogance that you didn’t bother moving after I almost killed you.”
He laughed, flashing straight white teeth against his bronze skin. He was still the only being I’d ever met who could pull off a Caesar cut, and was still the stuff of billionaire romance cover fantasies in his soft gray trousers that were artfully tailored to the hard lines of his body and navy shirt, carelessly folded back at the cuffs. “Oh, petal. I’d say I missed you, but I didn’t. Now, unless you brought the more interesting twin?” He peered into the hallway. “No?”
He shut the door, but I stuffed my foot in to block it. Not like he politely stopped trying to close it. “Ow.” I pushed my shoulder into the door to keep my poor bones from breaking. “If you weren’t wondering why I was here, you wouldn’t have let security buzz me up or let my toes cross the wards I’m sure you’ve got strung across this door.”
“Ten seconds.”
“That’s not–”
“Five, four…”
“Demons are being bound.” I rushed my words as he made a buzzing noise.
Malik yanked me inside by my collar and slammed the door.
I wrenched free.
His penthouse apartment hadn’t changed. Still to-die-for sweeping views of the city, a massive glass wine storage unit in the open concept space, and a loft bedroom. He pointed at one of the leather sofas, custom made to hug the curved walls. “Sit and talk.”
I told him about the gogota and the purple magic. I left out the spine modification, the yaksas, and Askuchar. I’d meant what I told Ro about enjoying my continued existence, and bringing up any Brotherhood involvement severely reduced my chances of walking out of here.
Malik listened in silence. A look of crystalized rage flashed over his face, but he sounded positively insolent when he said, “Why ever would you care about all this?”
It was a good question, but I had a good answer. “Leonie.”
Malik knew my bestie was half-goblin and I hoped that fact would make him amenable to helping me, because saying that I wanted to make sure humanity was safe from people binding demons and using their magic to further nefarious human agendas would just get me tossed out.
He weighed my answer, rubbing a finger over his chin. “What do you want from me?”
“A name.” I followed him to the kitchen.
He removed two stemless wineglasses from a glass-fronted cupboard, yanked the cork out of the half-drunk bottle of red on his counter, and poured us both a liberal dose. He shoved the drink at me. “I have no love for my fellow demons. If they’re stupid enough to get caught, they deserve what’s coming to them.”
“I got the better of you once and I’m not as powerful as a witch.” I took a sip of the wine and yes, it was as smooth and expensive as the fancy cream label promised.
“Your concern is touching. Misplaced, but touching.”
I savored one last sip. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Thanks for the wine. Have a nice life.”
I crossed the room. Every hair on the back of my neck stood up, and my shoulder blades prickled, tensing for an attack.
“Halt.”
Malik prowled toward me, circling me. He had that gleam in his eyes, the one that spoke of an ancient intelligence, an inhumanity barely buffered by a thin veneer of civility, and a power too complex for me to comprehend.
I forced myself to affect a semblance of nonchalance and a tight control of my bladder.
“How did you do it?” he said.
I flinched away from the whisper of his breath over my skin, even though he smelled yummy, like zingy citrus and spearmint. “Do what? Snuff you out like a candle? That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
He stepped away from me. “But that’s my price, petal. That and a small job.”
“What’s the job?”
Malik studied me a moment longer, then laughed, returning to his wine. “You have no idea, do you? Could you hurt me a second time?”
My heart hammered in my ears. My skin turned blue, electricity pouring off me. “Test me and let’s find out.”