Which meant he’d be furious when he learned Stark had taken Clara to Iceland.
Rather than inform him, Balthazar merely nodded to himself. Because it was as he’d suspected—Stark and Clara were definitely hiding something.
Something buzzed through the phone, followed by Luc saying, “Jacque just texted to say you’re in Iceland now.”
Balthazar searched for the teleporter’s mind, curious as to his whereabouts, and heard him upstairs with Owen. His lips threatened to curl at that development. Those two Hydraians had been dancing around each other for decades. Apparently, it took Owen dying and coming back from the grave to convince Jacque to act on his instincts.
About time,Balthazar thought. He’d have to congratulate the teleporter later.
“Are you on your way here?” he asked Luc, curious about whether he intended to join them here.
His question also served as a warning for Clara, as Luc would likely not be pleased by whatever development had occurred between her and Stark. Not that it was really any of Luc’s business, but he’d been different since Aidan’s passing. Angrier. Crueler. And a bit… unpredictable.
“Yeah, Jacque’s on his way,” Luc replied.
Balthazar met Clara’s gaze, ensuring she understood the meaning beneath his words as he replied, “See you soon.”
She swallowed, the message received.
“In three minutes,” Luc clarified. Then he promptly ended the call.
Balthazar slipped his phone back into his pocket, held Clara’s gaze for another beat, saying,This conversation isn’t over, with his eyes. Then he switched focus to Ezekiel.
“We need to talk,” Balthazar said.
“We always need to talk,” Ezekiel drawled back before wandering over to collapse onto a couch. A svelte female with pale features and a submissive demeanor moved alongside him as though tethered to him via some invisible string.
This must be Skye.
She clasped her small hands in her lap and blinked a few times, her blue eyes oddly out of focus.
Yes, definitely Skye.
He’d ask questions about her later.
Right now, he had a different concern he wanted to address—one he needed Ezekiel to elaborate upon.
“Osiris,” Balthazar said slowly. “Specifically, his history with the council. And what his intentions are now.”
“You assume I know?” Ezekiel asked, arching a pierced black brow. He resembled a laid-back rocker with his tight jeans, black T-shirt, inked arms, and long, dark hair. Meanwhile, Skye depicted the image of innocence beside him with her raven-colored hair, light blue eyes, porcelain-like features, and lacy white dress.
Balthazar refocused on Ezekiel, not in the mood for word games. It was late. He was tired. And he wanted answers. Right fucking now.
“I know you do,” he told the infamous assassin as he crossed his arms. “Start talking.”
Ezekiel smirked. “Well, once upon a time…”
Balthazar narrowed his gaze, unamused with the story time antics. “Ezekiel.”
The assassin sighed dramatically. “You’re usually the fun one.”
“It’s been a long day, and I’m tired of being played by Osiris at every turn. Now tell me why Osiris created a safe house for Lizzie and why he’s currently protecting that safe house by battling a pair of warrior Seraphim. I also want to know what you can tell me about Vera.”
“Warrior Seraphim?” a deep voice repeated as a male with blond hair and sea-green eyes appeared. “You didn’t tell me there were warrior Seraphim.”
“Because you misted back here before I could finish my sentence,” Leela said, appearing beside the other Seraphim with an irritated expression. “Your father sent them.” She disappeared again without elaborating.
Gabriel glared at the vacant space, surprising the hell out of Balthazar. The Seraphim never displayed emotion, but he clearly did not appreciate her misting away after dropping that statement.
