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“I’m a Princess of Hell,” she replies, sounding tired. “There are plenty who outrank me, but I have my ways of gathering information. Zeph, I knew you were coming to see me about the treaty, as you’d been ordered to do so. Why do you think I brought you to the human realm? I didn’t need proof of what was going on. I wanted toshow youwhat was going on, so you could see it for yourself.”
“And you knew you were going to bring me here? Seduce me? Overpower me?” I clench my fists.
Swiftly, Agrat straddles me, stroking her thumbs across my cheek. “I brought you here to protect you. As I said, neither of our realms is safe. I didn’t use any of my influence over you. I didn’t seduce you on purpose.” She brings her lips to mine in a soft kiss. “I’m not lying to you. I wanted you then. I want you now. And I know you’re the only angel I can count on.”
She’s telling the truth.
I brace my forehead against her shoulder. “I need…a minute.”
“We don’t have a minute.” Agrat reaches out a hand, then slices her finger down through the air. A rip in our realm is created, and through it, I can see Earth. Draco City, where we just left. “Because if we wait,thisis what will happen.”
I peer through the rip. The image shifts closer down to the street. It’s nighttime. The streets are damp, reflecting the neon glow of building signs. Steam rises from manholes in the street.
The building in front of me is a place called Shakers—a den of sin, where men pay money to watch women remove their clothing on a stage. If they pay more money, they can fornicate with other women in rooms upstairs.
The image shifts again, into the building and close to the stage. A young, dark-haired woman gyrates against a holographic pole on a clear stage, wearing nothing more than bra, panties, and sky-high heels, also clear. She swivels her hips to the throbbing beat of the song pouring from speakers in the ceiling. Men leer at her from the edge of the stage.
“This is Sazahn Hendricks,” Agrat tells me. “She’s led a hard life, but she’s making the best of it. She has a small group of close friends that she considers family, and a foster sister who’s a detective with Draco City PD.”
I glance at her, waiting.
“Sazahn is a very talented artist,” Agrat goes on, gaze locked on the human woman. “This is her true calling in life. Her art will catch the attention of one of her, er, regular customers. He happens to be a very well-off investor who decides to fund her ability to create art. She will be inspired by the down-trodden, the class she comes from, and create a series of pieces that will gain global notoriety.Thiswill catch the attention of an extremely wealthy philanthropist, in his last six months of life due to terminal cancer. He will be so inspired by her work, her passion, and talent, that he will use his entire fortune to build lovely, clean, and modern apartment complexes all across the world for the impoverished to live in, as well as provide food, running water, and education. Through his charitable efforts, he will save millions of lives and influence legislation to be enacted to fund even more of these housing and education programs that will ultimately reduce poverty to practically zero.”
I blink as the reel of this dancer’s life and her impact blur through my mind as Agrat speaks, confirming what she says is true. This young woman, with the elaborate tattoo covering one arm, who battled abuse as a child, was in and out of horrendous foster care, who was homeless herself at one point…will shift the state of theworld.
She must be protected.
I open my mouth to say as much, but the scene shifts again. A black SUV pulls up to the front entrance of the club, and several men in suits carrying sleek automatic weapons step out.
“These are the men who will, in a moment, destroy the small bit of peace Sazahn has managed to carve out for herself.” Agrat gazes at the image. “Still, she has the power to rise above the tragedy that’s about to unfold and continue on the path of her destiny.”
The scene shifts again. Now, smoke from the firing of multiple weapons rolls out of the front doors of the club. Squad cars and ambulances surround the building. There is screaming. Crying.
And then there is a man in the distance, striding confidently toward the back of the club through the foggy steam of the manholes. Another suited man. A beautiful man, with a close-cut, cultivated beard, full lips, alluring dark eyes.
Those eyes glow a soft red for just a moment.
Not a man.
My chest tightens.
“And this,” Agrat continues softly, “is the demon that’s going to corrupt her.”
