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“Hush, poppet. The grown-ups are speaking.”
I looked to the fae ambassador staring daggers at me. “Lilith’s plaything does raise an excellent point.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “I’m not here to debate whether this child means the end of the world or who should take care of her. I’m here to demand retribution for my dead clansman. One of yours killed one of mine. That debt must be repaid.”
“My son did the killing. Take your wrath out on me,” Nord said.
“No,” Finbar said. “The priest was there. He should have stopped it.”
The fae’s hard stare landed on me, followed by the focus of every creature in the room.
Gabriel stepped in front of me, a long-suffering expression written on his face. “Rise, Caleb. Retribution has been demanded. Justice must be served. Yadda, yadda, yadda.”
“And what price could you place on the life of a fae warrior?” Finbar asked.
“I’m sure a life for a life would suffice.” The archangel was rife with intention as he turned toward me.
Finbar snorted. “As if the life of a vampire could ever be equal to one of a fae.”
“Twice then,” Gabriel offered. “Two deaths for one.”
“More. Make it hurt.”
Before I could move back, God’s own messenger had my head gripped between his palms. “Immortality has its perks, Caleb.”
Then the angel snapped my neck, and I died.
Again.
