Wrath nodded. “My associate has been watching him since late last night, and witnessed him passing information this morning to someone wearing a hood. I believe whoever he spoke to is our murderer.”
“Why didn’t your associate follow the hooded figure?”
“He tried. When he closed in, the person crossed into a crowd and disappeared.”
I blew out a breath. Of course. “What’s the plan?”
“I’m supposed to meet Pride’s messenger to retrieve the next name soon. Instead, I’ll interrogate him, and will hopefully discover the identity of the robed figure that way.”
“Or I could just use a truth spell.”
“Too dangerous. Plus, you’ll be grabbing your things. I won’t be gone for long.”
“I see.” Something in my tone made him sit up again, a wary expression on his face. So, he could be a smart demon. “You know I won’t stay when there’s a chance we can find out who killed my sister,” I said. “Either take me with you, or I’ll follow you.”
He studied me for a long minute then sighed. “I will not be pleasant. I can have the meeting, and tell you about it. I promise to not hunt down the murderer without you.”
“Wait . . . are you suggesting you’ve been pleasant?” I snorted. “I pity your enemies.”
His grin was anything but friendly when he said, “That might be the wisest observation you’ve made yet, witch.”
A clock in the city square chimed the hour. He stood, then ran his golden gaze over my clothes, appraising. “We leave in forty minutes. Try to wear something less . . . pedestrian. Better yet, I’ll have something more appropriate sent to your home.”
I glanced at my dress, frowning. It was a modest cotton gown I’d dyed a deep lavender last summer. It didn’t have a corset, which I was very pleased with, but it still had a pretty shape. I liked how it was fitted through the bust and waist and then dreamily flowed down to my ankles. It was hardly pedestrian, and yet . . . “What if I don’t want to wear your fancy clothing again?”
He didn’t bother responding.
I looked up, ready to snap about his rudeness, but he was gone. I cursed him the entire way home, wondering why I’d gotten stuck with such a clothes-obsessed snob of a demon.
Perhaps Nonna was right about the cost of le arti oscure; being subjected to Wrath certainly felt like a punishment for using the dark arts.
I was so annoyed, it took far too long for me to focus on the most important detail of all that he’d let slip—Wrath knew where I lived.
Twenty-Eight
I looked down at my new, finely made dress and frowned at the dark layers. “Why do villains always wear black?”
“Better to hide the blood with, witch.”
I eyed the demon standing in the alley next to me, thinking his response explained a lot about his personal style. Then I wondered how much blood he planned to spill tonight if he’d dressed us both like living, breathing shadows.
I was almost disturbed the thought didn’t terrify me more.
“Who are we meeting? Human? Demon? Werewolf?”
“Werewolves are like puppies. It’s hellhounds you need to watch out for.” Wrath chuckled at my look of horror. “We’re meeting a mortal who sold his soul. Speaking of, I need my House dagger back before he arrives.”
I gave him a flat stare. Arming a demon didn’t seem very beneficial to me. Then again, he needed me to be his precious anchor. He’d mentioned it before, but had shared a few more details on the walk here. I handed the blade over.
“Say I were to die . . . how long would it take for your powers to start diminishing?”
“Depends on how much magic I expend. If I don’t use much, I could retain them for a small amount of time.”
A small amount of time for an immortal was probably a decade for me. “Can someone else act as an anchor?”
He blew out a breath. “Technically, yes. Any human or denizen of this world can strike a bargain, and agree to anchor a demon. It is rare and not worth the time it would take to find someone, and agree to terms both parties accepted.”
Several moments of silence passed. I tapped my fingers against cool stone. We were hiding in a little alcove off the cathedral square, and it felt like we’d been waiting years for the mysterious messenger to show up. Five minutes in, I quickly discovered standing still wasn’t something I enjoyed very much. When I wasn’t moving, all I could do was think about my sister.
“Why do demons steal souls? Do you need them for something specific?”