Undeterred, Ashmedai turned his back on the Halfling and leaned on the edge of the front lip of his desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your early visit, Zeb?”
His question indicated he considered it safe to speak openly in front of Kayla.
All right, then I’d get straight to the point. “Amarella is alive and in my realm.”
Ashmedai crossed his arms over his bare chest and arched a brow. “Well now that’s an interesting development. I thought you killed her?”
“I did,” I muttered, irritated all over again by being duped. “Or I killed a variant of her. We suspect she has a Nephilim helper who is somehow disguising identities, including his own.” Technically, it was my suspicion, but Zane and Guinevere had likely formulated a similar theory in my absence. It was the only explanation that made sense.
“A Nephilim,” Ashmedai mused. “How did you come to this conclusion?”
I proceeded to tell him about the Taylor versus Trevor situation, including the information I’d garnered from Lord Valentino regarding the aura-less manipulator. Ashmedai listened raptly, his expression never changing. I could tell Kayla was listening too, though she made a valiant effort to look as if she wasn’t. I had no idea why Ashmedai hadn’t banished the little chit from his office, but he was the boss here. Not me.
“I think this Nephilim’s true image is visible on film,” I finished out loud, uttering the suspicion as it came to me. I was still cataloging all the potential avenues in my mind, evaluating every strategic path. And that aspect made sense to me, and would explain why Amarella sat so carelessly in a nightclub in my territory. Which suggested she didn’t know her identity could be captured on film.
“The same must apply to Amarella as I assume she’s been wandering around with a new face for the last century. It’s the only logical explanation as to how she’s survived this long without anyone reporting her presence to me.” Because there was no way the demons of my realm would allow her to roam my lands without telling me. A few might be brave enough to keep her location a secret, but not many.
“Or her powers have grown,” Ashmedai offered, not looking pleased at the prospect.
I inclined my head. “That’s a possibility, too, yes. But her powers would have started to grow over a century ago, if that’s the case.”
“Feeding from a Demonic Lord consistently for decades might enable that shift,” he said pointedly, his gaze narrowing slightly.
“Yes, indeed, I suppose it could.” I hadn’t thought about that, but I couldn’t deny he was right. Fuck, what if I had been the one to give Amarella the ammunition she needed to survive my plot against her? That would mean I was indirectly responsible for what had happened to Guinevere.
Ashmedai dropped his arms to his sides to rest his palms on the desk beneath him. “I assume you’re implying that Amarella is responsible for the events in your territory and not Guinevere, yes?”
“I am.”
Ashmedai smiled and straightened away from the desk with an unconcerned shrug. “Then I expect you to handle the issue.”
I grinned. “I will handle it with pleasure, my prince.”
“I imagine you will,” Ashmedai agreed. “Just send me her head when you’re done.”
A dismissal.
One I accepted with a grin.
“I’ll hand deliver it myself,” I replied, giving him a respectful bow before casting another glance at the watching Halfling.
She gave a little wave, her lips curling into a smirk.
I ignored her and portaled back to Nashville to find Zane and Guinevere at the kitchen table. A hoard of Italian food littered the surface surrounded by three place settings.
Zane and Guinevere sat at two of them.
The third was empty.
“Expecting company?” I asked, interrupting whatever Zane had just been saying as I appeared beside them.
Guinevere tilted her head back, her blue eyes grinning at whatever the Incubus had been telling her.
I arched a brow, curious, and also slightly relieved to see her so at ease. She didn’t jump up to bow, she merely inclined her head and said, “You.”
It took me a moment to understand her greeting, then I recalled my question about company and grinned. “Well, I am hungry,” I admitted, removing my jacket to drape it over the chair back. Then I proceeded to roll my shirt sleeves while she watched.
Zane picked up a bottle of red wine to fill my glass while Guinevere started assembling a salad for me.
