“Put her down,” Darien warned. At his side, Bandit snarled, red eyes flaring like fiery coals.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Randal crooned. “You have three minutes to convince me not to snap the neck of your new squeeze, Darien. And if I detect that you’re lying to me, you’ll walk out of here afterward as a group of seven—as it should and will always be. They call you theSevenDevils for a reason. And might I remind you that you all belong tome?”
Tension pulsed through the air as Randal looked between every one of the Devils. Not a single person breathed too loudly.
Sensing compliance, Randal smiled. “Countdown will begin in three, two, one…Go.”
“Loren has been under my protection since I was hired to track her down back in Septem,” Darien began, every word strained. “The messenger who offered me the job gave me no information, but when I found her there were other Darkslayers tracking her.” If Loren had been able to speak, she would’ve begged Darien not to reveal the information they’d hoped to keep from Randal tonight. But her tongue wouldn’t move. “Their circle isn’t any we recognized; their symbol is a phoenix head.”
“Sounds like I’ve got some competition. Why are so many people after a human girl?”
“The truth is, I don’t know. She has no magic, no obvious reason as to why anyone might want her. The bounty hunters and other people in this city that are after her… If they find her, they’ll kill her.”
“I seem to be missing the part where I should care,” Randal said. Rage sparked in Darien’s gaze. “I sense you’re not telling the whole truth, my son. Do you need some persuasion?” He turned the hand he was still holding aloft counterclockwise. Pain wrapped around Loren’s neck, as though that invisible hand was preparing to snap her head off her shoulders.
Holy Star, that hand…That hand.
A whimper slipped through her immobile lips.
The anguish in Darien’s eyes made Loren’s heart nearly crack.
“The people who are after her…,” he trailed off, the conflict she could read on his face stilling his tongue for a moment. “I believe they could be in want of an ancient artefact called the Arcanum Well.” Loren tried to shake her head, but she couldn’t move. And that hand around her throat kept tightening and tightening—
“The Arcanum Well is nothing but an old legend,” Randal said.
“I’m starting to wonder if the stories are true.”
“And they believe she has a link to it?”
“I think they believe she can figure out where the Phoenix Head Society hid it.” That hand around her neck squeezed, and blood slipped from her nostrils and ears, where it dripped to the filthy cement far below. Darien’s chest was heaving with heavy breaths. “If the rumors are true, the Well can reverse the effects of the Tricking. We wouldn’t need to worry about contracting it, and you…you could rid yourself of it.” The lie came so smoothly that Loren found herself falling for it, too.
The wicked glint in Randal’s eyes faded, the hand around Loren’s throat loosening just enough that she was able to draw in a ragged breath of precious air.
“You plan on finding the Well yourself,” Randal said, “with the help of your little squeeze?”
Darien gave one slow nod.
Randal looked at Loren. “And is your girlfriend willing to help you find it?”
He loosened his hold on her just enough for her to nod. More blood dripped from her nose to her chest, sliding down her shirt.
Randal’s cold smile came back. “I want this Well, Darien. You and your girl are going to find it for me. Understood?”
Darien only nodded. Seeming content with this answer, he lowered his hand.
Loren sank to the floor, regaining movement in her limbs as her boots touched the concrete. Darien came to her side, drawing her away from the crime lord who looked between them with amusement. Loren wiped the blood off her nose with her sleeve, her ears still ringing.
Randal folded his brawny arms. “For the trouble this has caused me, I expect more than just the Well as compensation.” The slayers waited, and Loren gave them credit for not flinching as Randal said, “All of you will give me half of whatever earnings you receive for the next twelve months.”
Before anyone could dare argue with Randal, Darien said, “Done.” The other Devils echoed him; their voices held no emotion.
“And the Well, Darien,” Randal said. “Would you be willing to swear on it?”
The Devils stiffened, and several of them shared glances with one another. Loren’s heart thundered in her chest as she tried to understand.
And then Darien stepped forward and stripped the black glove off his right hand. When his father’s hand shot out and gripped his, squeezing hard, a couple of the joints in Darien’s fingers cracked from the force.
“Repeat after me,” Randal said. With every word that followed, Darien echoed it. “I, Darien Cassel, solemnly swear on the Scarlet Star itself, that I will see Loren Calla’s search for the Arcanum Well through to the end, and hereby allow my father by blood to use the Well for any and all purposes he may deem necessary. The Well will belong to only Randal Slade unless he himself states otherwise. This vow shall not be broken in any way, except by the death of either takers of the Blood Covenant.”
