“Ha! That’s a new one.” Saint tipped his glass toward me and grinned. “I’ll do my best. No promises.”
I crouched down before him. Placed a hand on his knee and looked into his glassy black eyes. “Tell me this is just about Keradoc.”
“I want him dead,” he said firmly, and because he was half-tanked and his guard was down, he didn’t have the mental fortitude to uphold the facade. To keep me out of his head.
Yes, he wanted the warlord on ice. But that wasn’t the real reason he was so hell-bent on going back to Midnight. Not even close.
I got to my feet, trying to keep my annoyance in check.
Mostly, I fucking hated the burden of being a fear demon. But at times like this, I appreciated the insight it gave me. No, I couldn’t read minds, but I could sense what people were most afraid of, and that was damn near the same thing.
Nothing revealed truth like fear. Dig deep enough, and I could turn that fear against a person, making them believe their darkest terror was playing out before their very eyes, much in the same way Saint could use his vampire influence.
Depending on how hard I pushed, that kind of manipulation could shatter a person’s mind.
I didn’t need to manipulate Saint, though. The drugs had eradicated his mental vigilance. Now, he telegraphed his fears like a child trembling over the monsters in the closet.
It all came back to the witch.
Saint reallyhadloved her.Stillloved her. And the thought of her coming to harm in Midnight fucking gutted him.
I headed to the bar. Abandoned my glass and went straight for the bottle.
“I do this for you, we’re done,” I said, taking a swig. “My debts are cleared. Understand? The minute we get back—ifwe get back—I’m leaving New Orleans. Leaving the Empire. Leaving this fucking country. Leavingyou. And I never want to see you again, Saint.”
He nodded as if he’d been expecting as much, though a hint of sadness flickered in his black eyes. “Promise to send me a postcard from your glamorous new life, and I won’t stand in your way.”
Ignoring his pathetic attempt at humor, I said, “So what’s our move?”
“We need to coordinate this from the inside.”
“Agreed.”
“I’ll send word to Gem, let her know the boys are heading back to the Hollow.”
I allowed a thin smile. Of all the pureblood Midnighters, Gem was one of the good ones, just as her name implied. “You think we’ll actually make it into Amaranth City?”
“With her help, we’ve got a shot. We’ll need supplies though—more than we can bring through Haley’s portal. A place to crash. Midnight currency. Intel on Keradoc’s whereabouts, and no, before you even say it, Iwon’tbe telling anyone about my plans—or Haley’s, for that matter. That information’s on a strictly need-to-know basis, and right now? You, Hudson, and I are the only ones who need to know.”
“Hudson?” I groaned and scrubbed a hand over my jaw. “Don’t eventhinkabout dragging him into this shit. Haven’t you done enough damage? He’s barely—”
My words fell away as the man in question landed in the loft, tucking his wings behind him.
For a massive gargoyle shifter who towered close to eight feet tall in his winged warrior form—a mix between man and winged beast, with bulging human musculature, talon-like claws, and smooth, slate-gray skin—he moved with the grace of a ballerina. Even in his human form—blond, bearded, and covered in tattoos that made him look more like a motorcycle club president than a mythical beast—he was silent and stealthy.
“Good to see you in living color again, Hudson,” I said, and I meant it. By day, the sunlight turned him to stone. But after sunset, he was free to roam in his winged or human form. Lately, though, he’d been spending most of his time stoned by choice, perched on the cathedral eves or hiding out in the gardens behind Saint’s place.
He nodded hello but didn’t say a word, as usual.
“Hudson’s the only one who can get everyone across Beggar’s Moat,” Saint said matter-of-factly, and from the incurious look on the gargoyle’s face, it was clear he’d been listening in and was fully up to speed. “Unless you’re ready to grow a pair of wings along with the balls you’re still working on.”
Hudson folded his arms across his massive chest and grinned, his fangs catching the light. Man or beast, it was the closest he ever got to laughing.
With a contempt I didn’t bother to veil, I glanced down at the black smoke now curling off Saint’s fingertips—side effect of the Devil’s Dream. “Keep dancing with the Devil, Saint, and we’ll see who needs new balls.”
“Don’t tell me you’re losing your nerve.” Saint lifted his hand to his mouth and blew, making the smoke dance. His grin stretched wide. “A fear demon, scared of a little trip to the dark side?”
“You know better than that.”
