“Sometimes, we shift to a more bestial, darker form. Black eyes. Sometimes, scales emerge. And we’ll have a demon mark. When we shift, it can appear.”
“What makes a demon shift?”
“We feel emotions very, very intensely. And when that, happens, it can reveal our true selves.”
Fascinating. “But you don’t feel empathy.”
“I don’t. Some of us shut things down. It makes it easier to think logically in the haze of emotions.”
“Okay.” I bit my lip. “But back to the mark—”
His eyes were growing darker, weren't they? This topic was making him shift a little. Weird.
“Does every demon have their own unique mark?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I drummed my fingertips on my knees. I needed to be an undercover cop about this and not push the point too much, but the desperation was building in me. “So do you know what everyone’s mark is? Have you seen them all?”
“No, most demons keep them hidden. Sometimes, the marks betray things about people they’d rather keep secret. Powers, the truth about their lineage…”
“What about a star?” I asked, gripping the armrests.
As soon as the shadows slid through his eyes, it was clear I’d struck a nerve. He was shifting, wasn’t he? And it wasn’t just his eyes that changed. The room was going darker around us, and his mood swallowed up the light. “Why, exactly, are you asking about that?” His voice was a low, quiet warning.
What the hell… Maybe demon psychology was different than humans’， but he was definitely defensive. I’d stumbled into some kind of dangerous territory.
I inhaled sharply. “No reason. I just thought if there was a moon, there must be a star.”
He sucked in a deep breath. “A star identifies the Lightbringer, our destined leader. No one has seen that mark in a long time.”
An ice-cold chill rippled through me. “Not on the king, then?”
“I’ve never seen his mark. No one has.” The shadows around him seemed to sharpen into blades, growing darker.
And all of this was a fantastic reminder of why I couldn’t be seduced by his beauty. Did he look perfect? Yes. Was he sketchy as fuck and possibly a murderer? Also yes.
“It seems like you killed that duke very easily,” I said. “Was it really necessary?”
“He wanted to kill you so badly, he wasn’t playing within the rules. He seemed like a liability.”
I frowned. “So when you have a difficult interpersonal situation…do you often just kill the person to make things easier?”
His eyebrows rose. “‘Difficult interpersonal situation’？ Is that what you call it when someone tries to kill you?”
“Okay. Point taken.” My head was spinning, and I wasn’t quite sure I was keeping up with the level of danger in this world.
I glanced at the macabre tattoo on his arm—the noose made from a snake. “Since you’re not going to tell me about your mark, how about this: why did you get that tattoo?”
A muscle tensed in his jaw, and he rose, towering above me. “We should go to your victory party.”
Wow. Another off-limits conversation. “Give me a second to do my hair and makeup.”
I could be allied with my worst enemy. But at least I’d learned something new. If I wanted to identify my mother’s killer, I’d have to try to provoke strong reactions from every demon. I needed to see their marks.
Unfortunately, I’d have to anger a lot of demons in the process.
Chapter 23
When our cab arrived at the Temple of Ishtar, another red carpet stretched out to greet us.
The temple was just north of the Tower of Baal and south of where Orion lived. Small crowds of demons flanked either side, snapping photos on their cell phones. It was after one a.m., and I was starting to get the impression that no one here slept. As I stepped out of the car, I felt underdressed for this crowd of onlookers. But Mortana wouldn’t be self-conscious, so I just gave everyone that smug demon smirk. When Orion was by my side, I made sure to walk with a swing of my hips over the carpet.
A humid ocean breeze rustled through my hair, and I licked the salt off my lips. The Temple of Ishtar was actually a bar now, but it still looked like a temple, with Doric columns and carvings of a beautiful, winged woman jutting out from the roof.
With Orion, I ascended the steps and passed through the towering open doors. There, I found myself in an enormous hall of golden stone. Demons in gowns and suits stood on a floor of blue and gold tiles. On the walls to the right and left, mosaics formed images of golden lions. Directly across from us, the columns were open to the sea, and a balmy breeze rushed in. Sparkling phosphorescence made the waves glitter under the night sky.