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Jolene gave a slow nod. “He would have killed her if he’d thought she had anything on him, but he apparently didn’t consider her a loose end.”
“Will you not share with us the information she gave you?” Raul asked Knox.
“No, just as I’m quite sure none of you will share anything that you uncover.” Knox was unsurprised when none of them denied it. “Sad as it is, we do not know who we can trust. If the Horseman should learn what I now know, it would give him the opportunity to wipe away any evidence. I won’t risk that.”
Dario sighed. “Very well.”
Exhaling heavily, Thatcher rubbed at his brow. “I’ll send some of my sentinels to collect Sherryl’s body. It is custom in my lair to give each demon a proper burial, no matter their crime.”
“Is it?” drawled Harper, eyes narrowing. “Levi.”
At the one-word summons, Levi stepped out of the shadows and into the camera’s line of sight. He then clicked his fingers, and the corpse burst into cinders that quickly faded away. It was an ability that came with being a reaper. And it made Harper’s inner demon smirk. Now that the entity had vented some of its rage, it was much mellower.
Glaring at Thatcher, Harper said, “There’s no such custom about burials in my lair. Even if there were, that bitch would get no courtesies from me.”
“Nor from me, in your position,” Mila said to Harper. Others murmured their agreement.
Knox ran his gaze over each of the Primes, who—except for Jolene, who looked at her granddaughter with pride—were once again eyeing Harper warily. He didn’t blame them. “I think my mate and I have made our standpoint blindingly clear. I hope you convey this message to the demons within your lairs. We wouldn’t want anyone else getting ideas about targeting Asher, would we?” He nodded at Larkin, who cut the link for the video conference and then closed the laptop.
Harper’s shoulders lowered slightly, and she let out a long breath. “I need a drink.” Or a bottle. Maybe then her nerves would finally fully settle.
Keenan pulled his flask out of his pocket and offered it to her. “Here.”
She didn’t even take a cautious sniff. Just chugged it down. And nearly choked as her throat and the roof of her mouth started to burn like holy hell. She coughed. “Jesus, what is that? Battery acid?”
The incubus smirked. “Everclear vodka with a little something mixed in.”
Deciding she didn’t want to know what that little something was, Harper handed him the flask, still coughing. Knox rested his hand on her nape and gave it a comforting squeeze.
Staring down at her, Tanner said, “You weren’t kidding.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
“You can in fact be terrifying. And no, I’m not teasing you.”
“I don’t think you’ll have to ever again deal with shit from the Primes, Harper.” Levi moved the chair back to its spot near the wall and hooked the rope over it. “It’s fucked up that this gained their respect, but if that respect and fear keeps them from messing with you, that can only be a good thing.”
Keenan knocked down a huge gulp of that vodka, the weirdo. “You still plan on playing a clip of Malloy’s slow-death throughout the Underground?”
“It’s the only way to be sure that the Horseman and any minions he might have will get our message,” said Harper. “Besides, everyone needs to be sure exactly what happens to those who go after my family.”
Larkin nodded. “Fair enough. I’ll get on it.”
With his hand still on her nape, Knox led her out of the boathouse and into the fresh, open air. Harper inhaled it greedily, needing to drown out the scents of blood, pain, and hate that seemed to be clogging her nostrils and lungs.
“Are we all thinking that the Horseman was Alethea’s ‘reliable source’?” asked Tanner as they walked back to the house. Mansion. Whatever the beautiful monstrosity should be called. “That he told her she was a target to scare and manipulate her?”
“It seems likely,” said Knox. The others nodded. “We can cross Dion off our list of suspects. The incorporeal said it intended to find and hurt him once it had earned its freedom.”
Levi twisted his mouth. “That leaves us with Thatcher, Dario, and Jonas.”
Holding the laptop against her chest, Larkin sighed. “It’s a crying shame that the only clues Malloy gave us about Alethea’s partner in crime are that he wears a cashmere coat, smokes tobacco, likes Cirque du Soleil, and that the encantada trusted his word.”
“The only person I can imagine her investing any trust in is Jonas,” said Tanner. “But I saw her face when she realized that Jonas wanted an alliance with Lou. If the siblings were working together, would it really have bothered her that he wanted such an alliance? It makes more sense that she suspected Jonas would betray her and try to have the incorporeal destroyed or banished back to hell, just like he claimed. Also, I’ve never known him to smoke. Nor Dario, for that matter. Never smelled tobacco on them.”
“I’ve seen Jonas smoking a time or two,” said Knox. “I’ve also seen Thatcher with the occasional cigar at gatherings, but I got the feeling he only smoked them to look distinguished.”
Larkin drummed her fingers on the closed laptop. “Malloy was one of Thatcher’s demons. He could have turned Alethea’s attention her way—pulled her strings, so to speak. But I don’t think he’s the Horseman. I mean, if he is, he would have just asked Sherryl for the info himself; he wouldn’t have done it through Alethea.”
