“What about Caro? Where does she fall?”
“My mother has several older generations above her, which is typical for one her age. I am a unique case, as most of the eldest Seraphim have no cause for breeding.”
“So why were you needed?” Sethios asked, curious. “What purpose do you serve?”
“My fate has not yet come to fruition.”
“Meaning you have no idea why your mother was forced to birth you. Fascinating.” Sethios couldn’t help the sarcasm in his voice. Their whole world was too contrived. None of them lived. No wonder the older Seraphim chose to nap for eternity. Sethios would, too, in their shoes.
“Our customs have served us well for several thousand years. We have no war, no famine, no pain. Can you say the same about your precious humans?”
Sethios snorted. “I wouldn’t call them precious, and obviously I can’t say the same, but I’ve lived a far more intriguing existence as a result. Stick around for a while and maybe you’ll understand.”
“I have no desire to remain here any longer than needed.” Gabriel flicked his gaze toward the hallway and then back to Sethios. “That said, I’m interested in learning what your seer predicted. She won’t be nearly as powerful as the Fates but may be more inclined to give us the whole version. When can we speak to her?”
“As soon as we figure out how to get around Osiris.” Sethios grinned and stood. He needed a strong drink. Preferably a brandy. He found a bottle native to France and poured two healthy glasses. If the Seraphim didn’t want any, he’d enjoy both.
Gabriel hadn’t moved, nor had his expression changed, but he did accept the drink while saying, “Alcohol has no practical use.”
“It tastes good. That’s the only reason I require.” Sethios settled back into his chair and sipped the amber liquid. It burned his throat in the most pleasurable of ways.
“Chocolate,” Gabriel said after a long moment. “Caro may enjoy it.”
“What purpose does it serve?”
“It tastes good,” Gabriel parroted. “She may appreciate a little indulgence in her current state—something that would not be advised back home.”
Was this an olive branch of sorts? “Noted.”
Gabriel sipped his drink, almost as if to confirm their unspoken agreement to tolerate each other for the time being. After a few minutes, he set it to the side and folded one leg over the other. “Your comment earlier implies Osiris is guarding your seer. Tell me about his compound.”
Sethios nearly laughed, then reconsidered his present company. If anyone could dance around the defense mechanisms, it was a Seraphim. He detailed the location and the variety of wards in place before diving into his suggestion. “You’ll need Ezekiel because he’ll know where Skye is being kept. My father likes to move her around.”
“Who is Ezekiel?”
“My oldest friend. He has the ability to trace by blood, making him a powerful tracker. My father has turned him into his personal hound dog by holding Skye hostage.”
Gabriel cocked a brow. “How are the two related?”
“She’s the love of his life.” Or so his friend thought. Sethios tried to convince him to move on several times, but to no avail. “Ezekiel could easily tell my father to fuck off, but he stays for Skye.”
“That’s illogical.”
“When you meet him, please tell him that.” Because Sethios more than agreed. “He can help you locate Skye, but he will require some convincing. And my father’s penchant for persuasion will make your negotiation tricky, as Ezekiel may be forced to report back details.”
Although, if anyone could work around his father’s antics, it was Ezekiel. The man excelled at word games and had centuries of practice finding loopholes.
“Your source sounds irrational and thereby unreliable.” An astute deduction, but wrong.
“Perhaps, but he’s your best bet.” Ezekiel may have lost his head over a woman, but he was still quite useful. “He’s also positively lethal. He’s revered as the finest Nizari assassin in our history.”
Gabriel rose one perfect eyebrow. “Should that mean something to me?”
“He hunts and kills fledglings, otherwise known as the offspring of Ichorians prior to being resurrected as Hydraians. Once he’s tapped into a bloodline, it applies to any and all progeny.” Sethios finished his drink and set it off to the side. “I suppose Seraphim don’t pay much mind to Ichorian and Hydraian affairs.”
“We were rather hoping you all would annihilate each other and save us all the task.”
“Charming.” The Seraphim must not have predicted the Treaty of 1747. Hell, they probably didn’t even know about it. “I suggest you look for Ezekiel in New York City. I also strongly suggest you meet him before heading to my father’s compound. Assuming you want to live.”
