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Timothy jerked as a piece of his shirt brushed against his skin. “You don’t have to do this,” he panted. “All you have to do is kill me and I’ll be out of your hair. Please…”
I flexed my jaw, releasing the rough material so that I could drift back into Timothy’s sight. “Why would I want to do that when your own skin is covered with such curious marks?” I purred. My lips curled into a coy smile when the mortal paled at my words. “I’m not one to compliment how the angels set up how this country ran, mortal, but I am rather impressed they avoided giving your kind too much. You were all more fixated on trying to survive day to day instead of caving into your inner desires. Which meant something like a tattoo was…useless. It couldn’t feed you and it certainly couldn’t clothe you from the cold. It would simply be money wasted.”
His wide eyes remained locked on me. “You’re a demon. It’s natural for you to want my kind to cave into those desires.”
A deep chuckle rumbled from my chest. “I specialize in tempting other races, not the mortal one. You’re absolutely useless to me, Timothy.” My grin widened when his skin took on an ashen edge.
“H-How do you know my name?” the mortal stammered. “My wife, she…”
Although a hint of annoyance leaked into my veins when the poor soul tried to shift the topic away from what his own skin offered as evidence, I managed to suppress it. I would leave that growing rage to Nico. With the amusement still swirling within me, I jammed my hands into my pants pockets and peered back at him. “Why do you think I was there, mortal? As the prince of my race, I certainly have much better things to do…”
He cringed as I tilted my head, delivering an obvious gesture at the tattoo on his back.
“Such as finding out why you chose to stain yourself with the mark of a bastard child.” I let my tone take on a snarling edge. The beast within was certainly getting in the mood to play and I yearned for the fear leaking off him to saturate the air around us. He was already putting out enough for me to know that I was getting under his skin rather quickly.
It was only a matter of time before the poor soul pissed on himself.
Timothy shivered violently, causing the chains to clank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
There was no doubt in my mind that he was going to attempt defiant bravado and insist on pure ignorance about the true meaning of the tattoo. That method was actually working for him until Nico trailed the edge of his blade along the entire length of his back. He jerked against the chains with a noise that couldn’t be anything other than an animal in agony.
A pleased chuckle escaped me. “Do you know whose mark is on your back, Timothy? Truly?”
The demon lord didn’t give him a chance to respond — especially when we both knew he was simply going to cling to that ignorance. He started moving his blade back and forth along the mortal’s back until the smell of piss leaked into the air. If it wasn’t for the overwhelming almond smell of his fear to override it, the mood certainly couldn’t be salvaged. This time, he drifted around toward the front of our guest with the tip of his blade still gracing his fragile skin.
I merely lifted my chin while the demon lord continued to work on our guest. “The mark of the bastard Nephilim is considered nothing more than an act of betrayal against the current ruling crown. Hell, it certainly passes off as such for the angels. Do you really think it is wise to bear the mark that neither of our races are willing to tolerate?”
Every muscle in the mortal’s body stiffened until he was nothing more than a stiff chunk of meat. He couldn’t bring himself to relax until Nico finally pulled his blade away. Sagging, he sucked in rapid pants with the feeble attempt to draw oxygen into his lungs. Judging from the paleness of his skin, he certainly wasn’t getting it.
Or perhaps it is the gunshot wound starting to take its toll, I mused.
Timothy hung his head, droplets of sweat dripping onto the floor below him. “What…makes you think…he still stands…against him?” he panted.
That was enough to bring Nico to a halt and send his eerie red eyes in my direction.
I scoffed softly and eyed the shaking mortal. “Rather bold of you to suggest the angel prince would stoop so low to form an alliance with the Nephilim,” I remarked.
There was only the occasional scream from below and a sudden vibrating noise in the demon lord’s pocket to break the sudden silence. Nico threw a quick glance in my direction before he pulled away, retrieving the small device. He drifted far enough away to where our guest couldn’t eavesdrop on the conversation. When he returned, his expression had shifted into one that couldn’t be deciphered. “That was Archer,” he murmured in our native tongue.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I eyed Timothy until the poor soul had to drop his gaze to the stained floor below him in a desperate attempt to shut me out. “What did he have to say?”
“Your sister finally quit moving.” Nico jammed his cell phone back into his inner jacket pocket. “He tracked her all the way back to New Orleans.”
I mused over his words for a moment. “Was he able to get a more accurate location?”
New Orleans meant Louisiana. It was one of the first locations that I had gone after during the first rounds of negotiations with Marcillo. The state was vital in more ways than the farmland that helped feed the paranormal races. Only a fool would ignore how useful the art of voodoo could be when it came to maintaining the upper hand in an impending war. It also promised that I had eyes and ears down there.
Nico’s red eyes honed in on me. “Your sister made a beeline to a manor down there…one that belonged to the former ruling family.”
My head whipped in his direction. The movement was enough to squeeze a panicked squeal out of Timothy while causing my demon lord to tense. I couldn’t find it within me to argue that this was nothing more than a coincidence, not when the manor’s location was considered sacred land in respects to the original demonic family that guided our race. Because my father had chosen to leave it as a monument of respect, I’d opted to do the same.
Why would Calianna go to an abandoned mansion? Taking the mark of the Nephilim was a crime itself, yet it didn’t quite reach the level of stepping foot on land that was meant to be left alone. It was just as foolish for her to seek that out as a refuge as it was for her to lie to our father in order to leave Italy.
So what waited for her there?
Flexing my jaw, I turned away from our weeping guest. “Father ordered cameras to be installed in order to ensure the manor was left alone. Have Archer tap into them to keep an eye on who comes and goes. I want pictures of every single new face he comes across.”
“Understood.” The demon lord pulled away to deliver the order.
