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Micah turned to Hunt, a cruel tilt to his lips. “You can guess, Athalar, who Sandriel will be bringing with her.” Hunt went rigid. “Pollux would be all too happy to report his findings as well.”
Hunt fought to master his breathing, to keep his face neutral.
Pollux Antonius, Sandriel’s triarii commander—the Malleus, they called him. The Hammer. As cruel and merciless as Sandriel. And an absolute motherfucking asshole.
Jesiba cleared her throat. “And you still don’t know what kind of demon it was?” She leaned back in her chair, a frown on her full mouth.
“No,” Micah said through his teeth.
It was true. Even Hunt hadn’t been able to identify it, and he’d had the distinct pleasure of killing more demons than he could count. They came in endless breeds and levels of intelligence, ranging from the beasts that resembled feline-canine hybrids to the humanoid, shape-shifting princes who ruled over Hel’s seven territories, each one darker than the last: the Hollow, the Trench, the Canyon, the Ravine, the Chasm, the Abyss, and the worst of them all—the Pit.
Even without a specific identification, though, given its speed and what it had done, the demon fit with something belonging to the Pit, perhaps a pet of the Star-Eater himself. Only in the depths of the Pit could something like that evolve—a creature who had never seen light, never needed it.
It didn’t matter, Hunt supposed. Whether the demon was accustomed to light or not, his particular skills could still turn it into chunks of sizzling meat. A quick flash of light and a demon would either turn tail or writhe in pain.
Quinlan’s voice cut through the storm in Hunt’s head. “You said that there was another connection between the murders then and the one now. Beyond the … style.”
Micah looked at her. To her credit, Quinlan didn’t lower her eyes. “Maximus Tertian and Danika Fendyr were friends.”
Bryce’s brows twitched toward each other. “Danika didn’t know Tertian.”
Micah sighed toward the wood-paneled ceiling high above. “I suspect there might have been a good deal about which she didn’t inform you.”
“I would have known if she was friends with Maximus Tertian,” Quinlan ground out.
Micah’s power murmured through the room. “Careful, Miss Quinlan.”
No one took that kind of tone with an Archangel, at least not anyone with nearly zero power in their veins. It was enough to get Hunt to set aside Sandriel’s visit and focus on the conversation.
Micah went on, “There is also the fact that you knew both Danika and Maximus Tertian. That you were at the White Raven nightclub on each of the nights the murders happened. The similarity is enough to be … of interest.”
Jesiba straightened. “Are you saying that Bryce is a suspect?”
“Not yet,” Micah said coldly. “But anything is possible.”
Quinlan’s fingers curled into fists, her knuckles going white as she no doubt tried to restrain herself from spitting at the Archangel. She opted to change the subject instead. “What about investigating the others in the Pack of Devils? None of them might have been a target?”
“It has already been looked into and dismissed. Danika remains our focus.”
Bryce asked tightly, “You honestly think I can find anything, when the Aux and 33rd couldn’t? Why not get the Asteri to send over someone like the Hind?”
The question rippled through the room. Surely Quinlan wasn’t dumb enough to wish for that. Jesiba threw a warning look at her assistant.
Micah, unfazed by the mention of Lidia Cervos, the Republic’s most notorious spy-hunter—and breaker—replied, “As I said, I do not wish for knowledge of these … events to pass beyond the walls of my city.”
Hunt heard what Micah left unspoken: despite being part of Sandriel’s triarii, the deer shifter known as the Hind reported directly to the Asteri and was known to be Pollux’s lover.
The Hammer and the Hind—the smasher of battlefields and the destroyer of the Republic’s enemies. Hunt had seen the Hind a few times in Sandriel’s stronghold and always walked away unnerved by her unreadable golden eyes. Lidia was as beautiful as she was ruthless in her pursuit of rebel spies. A perfect match for Pollux. The only one who might have suited Pollux more than the Hind was the Harpy, but Hunt tried not to think about the second in command of Sandriel’s triarii when he could avoid it.
Hunt smothered his rising dread. Micah was saying, “Crime statistics suggest that it’s likely Danika knew her killer.” Another pointed silence that left Quinlan bristling. “And despite the things she might not have told you, you remain the person who knew Danika Fendyr better than anyone. I believe you can provide unparalleled insight.”
Jesiba leaned toward the screen in her plush hotel room, all grace and restrained power. “All right, Governor. Let’s say you commandeer Bryce to look into this. I’d like compensation.”
Micah smiled, a sharp, thrilling thing that Hunt had witnessed only before the Archangel blasted someone into wind-torn smithereens. “Regardless of your allegiance to the Under-King, and the protection you believe it affords you, you remain a citizen of the Republic.”
And you will answer to me, he didn’t need to add.
Jesiba said simply, “I’d think you’d be well versed in the bylaws, Governor. Section Fifty-Seven: If a government official requires the services of an outside contractor, they are to pay—”
