I started for her neighborhood. We had to warn her before it was too late.
Wrath stepped into my path, halting my steps. “What?”
“I know her.”
“And?” he pressed.
“I’m wondering why he’s choosing witches with ties to dark magic.”
“Well,” Anir said, “that’s because the—”
Wrath cut him off. “Time to go.”
As he glanced between the demon prince and me, Anir’s smile was that of a wolf who’d found a squiggling snack it wanted to shove down its throat. “Actually, I’d rather stay here for a while. Demon weddings are not for the faint of heart. Plus, you’ll need some extra eyes and ears when you speak to the girl. Maybe the robed figure will follow us.”
He winked at me like we were the oldest of friends sharing a secret. Wrath caught the look and stared until his “associate” shrugged and started walking across the square. I waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Wrath.
“Are you going to try and convince Valentina to go to the underworld with you?”
“I swore I wouldn’t do anything but offer the bargain. And I will keep my word. However, once we get her to safety, I’d like to see if she’d be willing to help us draw out the murderer.”
“You’d like to use her as bait.”
“Yes. Someone is doing their best to ensure Pride doesn’t break the curse. I intend to discover who and why before anyone else dies. Then I’ll offer a bit of retribution of my own.”
I shivered. It wasn’t exactly what I was expecting him to say, but I appreciated his honesty. “I know Valentina’s family very well. I’m going to tell her to decline Pride’s bargain,” I admitted. “I hope you understand.”
Wrath’s gaze clashed with mine. “Do what you must. The final decision will be up to her.”
While we hurried to Valentina’s home, Anir told me about his life prior to leaving this world for what he called the Kingdom of the Wicked. He was the only child of a Tunisian father and Chinese mother—and had been playing in a nearby olive tree during the brutal slaying of his parents. His father had witnessed a crime and was going to tell authorities what he saw. Before he could do that, they were killed.
Anir said the scar came later, once he’d grown into the sort of young man others feared. Wrath found him traveling through South America, fighting in underground rings, bruised and bloodied. Some battles were a fight to the death and paid handsomely. Anir was a reigning champion for more than a year when he’d been offered employment in House Wrath.
I stopped listening to them bicker over how many years passed—apparently time moved differently in the demon realms—as we turned down the next street and slipped into a darker, narrower alleyway. A strange tug I’d felt before took control of my senses, drawing me down a second side street.
I glanced around, recognizing the neighborhood, and a terrible feeling settled in. I took a few more steps and stopped, unsurprised by the body. I’d grown suspicious before we’d rounded the corner, and the slumped silhouette was all the confirmation I’d needed.
I scanned the area.
Laundry hung from one crammed building to the other over our heads, and snapped in the breeze like teeth. It might’ve stricken fear into my heart before, but now it seemed like the perfect cover for a crime. There was no evidence. Nothing to waste time sorting through. It was a targeted job—the killer had gotten in and out, leaving nothing but the body behind.
Wrath abruptly stopped walking.
Anir noticed the victim a moment before tripping over her. He shot the demon an irritated look, and sidestepped a growing lake of blood. “Next time, a little warning would be nice.”
“A little less insubordination might make me more amenable to common courtesy in the future.”
Anir narrowed his dark eyes. The movement made the scar on his cheek stand out more. Wrath went to step around the body when his associate yanked him to a halt. I watched it all happen as if the scene was playing out on a stage, far from where I actually stood. I couldn’t believe another body lay brutalized at our feet. Bile slowly rose. Wrath seemed entirely unaffected, as if coming across maimed bodies was part of his daily life.
The demon turned on his heel, gaze locked onto the human’s hand. “What?”
Anir jabbed a finger toward the cooling body. “Aren’t we going to send for help?”
“What do you propose we do? Call for human authorities?” Wrath didn’t give Anir a chance to answer. “If you were them, would you take our word as good Samaritans and let us be on our way? Or would you look at your demon-forged blade, and my devilish demeanor, and toss us in some shit-filled cell and throw away the key?” Anir pursed his lips but didn’t say anything. “Do you have any more noble suggestions, or can we leave?”