“I would think Faris’s reasons for making me the gods’ emissary were obvious,” I said to Grace.
She watched me closely, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was right now trying to determine if she’d succeeded in turning me into a master of telepathy. I was wondering about that too. I’d been able to keep most people out of my mind long before I’d become an angel, but I wouldn’t know how powerful I could be until I’d gained the magic of Ghost’s Whisper.
“Faris believes we will listen to you,” said Grace. “Because you are a child of both heaven and hell.”
I shrugged. “I guess he figured I’d be more likely to succeed than any god.”
“Perhaps you are.” Grace sat on her throne with easy, arrogant elegance. “We do not trust the gods. They are duplicitous.”
Grace’s throne was functional but elegant. The black surface seemed to be made of dark metal, not stone or wood. It didn’t looked particularly comfortable, more the seat of a soldier than of the demons’ priestess. Several very beautiful vampires sat on cushioned chairs around her, drinking blood from crystal glasses, and they were obviously enjoying themselves. Honestly, the sight of it made me hungry. I was half-tempted to go over there and indulge in a sip too.
Or maybe a bit more than only half-tempted. I must have taken a step toward them because I felt Nero’s hand on my back, a gentle reminder of the real reason we were here: to forge an alliance between gods and demons, not indulge our thirst for blood. Like vampires, we angels suffered from that hunger too. Usually, it wasn’t so pronounced. There must have been something special about those vampires, something that brought out my hunger. I looked away from them before they brought out my fangs too.
This all felt wrong. I couldn’t explain it. I could not sense any spell around Grace’s entourage. Her throne, her followers—they all seemed to be just as they appeared. And yet Ava’s deception had got me to thinking. Was Grace fooling me? Was she putting on a show for my benefit? Was she trying to win my trust and sympathy, making me relate to her by showing how different she was from the other demons?
“You can trust me,” I told Grace, even as I pondered her duplicity. “I am not duplicitous. What you see is what you get.”
“I don’t doubt you believe that, Leda,” she said. “But you are far more than you see.”
It was neither a compliment nor an insult. It was a decree, handed down by the Demon of Faith.
“Actions speak louder than words. Or blood, for that matter, Grace,” Sonja said. “She has chosen to serve the Legion. She stands with the gods. And she’s bulldozed right through our plans countless times.”
“Your plans to take over the world,” I sniped.
“That is neither here nor there,” Sonja said coolly.
“It’s everywhere,” I replied. “Don’t you see? This immortal war is tearing the universe apart. And the Guardians are standing by, watching us kill one another, ready to jump in and fill the void left by our distrust and fear. We cannot allow that to happen. We must stand together.”
Alessandro rose from his throne. “Good speech.”
“I have more where that came from,” I said.
Seth laughed behind his manicured hand. “Don’t encourage her, Alessandro, or she’ll never shut up.”
“Be gone, Leda Pandora.” Alessandro gave his hand a melodramatic wave.
Just like the gods’ Seven, the demons’ council was clearly populated by assholes and drama queens.
“What of my proposal?” I demanded, planting my hands on my hips—and my feet firmly to the ground.
“You’ll be hearing from us,” Alessandro said as the doors behind the demons opened.
Soldiers poured out of them, each and every one of them a full-blown deity in Hell’s Army. And they were armed to the teeth. For a moment, I wondered if these soldiers were as normal as the gods I’d met in Heaven’s Army.
That moment was short-lived.
Get moving! a voice in my mind warned me. I was pretty sure it was Grace.
Beasts joined the demon soldiers, and they ran at us, their weapons raised, their magic primed to attack.
“I guess we’re going now,” I said to my comrades.
Then we ran for our immortal lives—into the magic mirror, past the sleeping sphinx, around the hell turkeys, and through the hot-and-humid jungle. The demons were hot on our tails the whole time. And if not for the ward the gods had placed on the Earth to keep out all demons, I bet they would have followed us all the way back home.
9
Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?
“There’s blood all over you, Leda.”
Nero and I were back where we’d started this morning: in my apartment inside the Legion’s Purgatory building.
“Oh, don’t worry. It’s not even my blood,” I told him as I followed him into the kitchen.
“I know.” He grabbed a washcloth off the towel rack and held it under running water. “But it’s going to get on your dress.”
By the time we’d returned from our demon errand, the sun had already set and it was nearly dinnertime. Nero had insisted I put on my midnight-blue evening gown, the one that was covered all over in tiny sparkling stones. He’d been very specific that I wear that exact dress. When I’d asked him why, he’d replied that the gown made me look elegant and refined. So I’d put it on. It was hard to argue with a compliment, especially when Nero was the one giving it.
“I noticed you didn’t dress up,” I commented as he washed the splashes of dried monster blood off my arm.
“I’m not the one who has to make a good first impression.”
I laughed. “Your parents are coming over for dinner. Since they’ve already been to hell and back with me, I fear that any chance of a good first impression is long lost.”
“This isn’t about my parents.” He tossed the washcloth into the used towel bin.
“Then who is it about? Who else did you invite tonight?” I pressed my hand against the hard leather wall of his chest. “You didn’t dress up. That means you’ve already made a good impression.”
“Or I have no hope of making a good impression.”
That wasn’t it. Nero wasn’t a quitter, and he didn’t let anyone else give up either.
“Come on, Nero. Just tell me who’s coming to dinner. I’m bursting with curiosity.” I planted my feet firmly on the ground so I didn’t start bouncing with impatience.
Nero glanced down at my feet, clearly not fooled. “Patience is a virtue, Pandora.”
“But sinning is so much more fun than virtue.”
“Those are not the words of an angel.”
“Maybe not in public, but all the angels are totally thinking it, and you know it.”
He chuckled deep in his throat. “Maybe so.”
I looped my arms over his shoulders and slid in closer to him. “Tell me. Please,” I whispered against his lips.
“My resolve will not falter.”
I looked at him through lowered lashes. “It might falter just a little.”