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Again, his glance shifted to Camille. You’re really walking on thin ice, dude, I thought. I snapped my fingers, and he shook his head and shrugged. “Yeah…well, that aside, what were you saying about the bar?”
“The Tregart told me that his bosses had opened the bar to attract recruits. He said that anybody who walked in there and stayed would be the kind of people they were looking for.” Trytian picked up a sugar packet and began playing with it, tapping it on the table. He ripped the top off and poured it into his coffee and stirred.
“They who?”
“I asked him that. He was sufficiently drunk to let names slide, for which—no doubt—he could have been killed. He said two Tregart sorcerers named Van and Jaycee. They apparently owned a magic shop that got torn apart by some explosion a few months back. He told me they smelled dragon in the air.” With a long look at Smoky, Trytian let out a slow laugh. “Ten to one, I know who.”
Smoky just growled.
“Yeah, I made you, right. They hurt your woman, right?” He glanced at Camille, who gave the smallest of flinches, but apparently Trytian was good at picking up on nuances. “What did they do? Beat you up? Set you on fire?”
She let out a long sigh. “Rolled me in broken glass during a fight. I survived, though I felt like a pincushion.”
“That sounds about right. They’re sadists. I knew that already. But I’ll admit it: I really thought they worked for Stacia. I was wrong. They didn’t work for her. Or, it turns out, for me. I had no clue they had this vendetta going on that involved your Koyanni shifters. I don’t dabble in the affairs of most Supes. I’m only interested in building a force against Shadow Wing.”
At the last, his eyes flashed and I saw a glint in them that made my stomach shift. Daemons were often more powerful than demons, and we still didn’t know what abilities Trytian possessed. I wasn’t entirely sure we wanted to find out, either.
“We were both played.”
“Apparently so. Hold on one minute.” Trytian stood, walked to the side, and pulled out a phone. The clamor in the restaurant was so loud it was hard to think. While we were waiting, the waitress deposited our meals on the table. Camille, Trillian, and I dug into our food.
After a moment, Trytian returned. He sat back down, leaned forward and cocked his head to the side. He interlaced his fingers, cracking his knuckles.
“Listen, puss—” He stopped as Shade shifted in his chair. “Delilah. Nobody plays me and survives. That phone call I just made? Every Tregart in my house will be dead within the next five minutes. Before you’re done with your meal, every Tregart in my training camp will be dead. They won’t know it’s coming until it’s over.”
I blinked. “How many?”
“Forty-five…fifty. My Second knows for sure. But not Van and Jaycee—I only deal with them on a business arrangement. They aren’t in my camp and they don’t know the inner workings of my plans.” He was cool as a penguin on ice. He didn’t even blink.
“And you’re comfortable killing them all, knowing that maybe some of them are truly loyal to you?” Once again, the difference between Trytian’s methods and our own seemed so clear.
“Oh, don’t try that with me, pussycat.” He held his hand up as Shade stood. “Get over it, Stradolan. Yes, I know what you are,” he added, giving my startled lover a quick, cold smile. “The fact is, you kill off every Tregart you come across, don’t you?”
I stammered. “Well…yes…but…”
“You don’t know if they’re sent over here from Shadow Wing, if they’re my soldiers, or if they’re—possibly, just possibly—trying to escape their past and live a relatively normal life. The only good Tregart is a dead Tregart. Isn’t that the way you work?” He slapped the table—one, quick, hard slap.
“He’s right.” Camille sat up, wiping the corner of her lips with her napkin.
I swiveled my head and started to say something, but she shook her head.
“We do operate that way. The Tregarts are our enemy. We fight them, we kill them. Trytian’s correct.” She ignored his snort. “He did us a favor, because no doubt at least a good share of them were working for Shadow Wing. Forty-five? Fifty? That many fewer demons we have to worry about.”
I swallowed my protest. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“So, what’s our next move?” Trytian asked.
I didn’t like the implication of that little statement “Our next move? What makes you think we’re working together?”
“I don’t think we have any choice on this. We were both deceived.” He gave a little shrug.
Trytian had repeatedly offered to work with us. On his terms. But I still didn’t trust him. We could definitely add to his army—we’d knocked off three demon generals already. But he knew we’d never kowtow to his orders, so what was he expecting? He had threatened Camille last time—it was obvious he wanted her. But no, Trytian would fuck her if he had the chance, but he wouldn’t go to these lengths just for sex. He was an opportunist, not obsessed. So it had to be something else.
And then, I knew. There was one thing he could be hoping to gain—and obviously, he knew about it even though we had conveniently left out mentioning it when we told him what we knew.
“Tell us who the bald-headed man is who’s hanging out with Van and Jaycee. He’s not one of the Tregarts, but he is a Koyanni, and you know about him, don’t you? You know what he carries. And that is why you want to work with us.” He wanted the spirit seal, and he knew we could lead him to it.
Trytian licked his lips, but then he leaned back, locking gazes with me. “Let us proceed on the supposition that you’re correct. We each hold pieces of the puzzle. Without the other, we flail in the dark…at least for longer than we would if we lay our cards on the table. Separate, we’re strong. Together, we’re stronger.”
