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Baring his teeth, he ground out, “Why don’t you go ask your dad how your mom got knocked up?”
Shock hit Logan like a sucker punch to the throat. Then, Stryke hit Logan with a real sucker punch to the throat.
It. Was. On.
Logan was faster, better trained, and stronger. But Stryke made up for it with a complete lack of self-preservation. It was another change in him since Chaos’s death. He’d always been a better-than-average fighter, but he’d known when he was outmatched, and he would put his effort into defense.
Not this time. He fought aggressively, no-holds-barred, like a male daring the other to kill him. The surprise factor alone gave Stryke an edge for a few seconds.
Blood splattered on the shiny wood floor with every brutal punch.
Logan got in a powerful blow that knocked Stryke into the bar and gave Logan a second to breathe. Deep in the back of his mind, Cujo whined, sensing Logan’s pain. Normally, the beast would flash to him, but clearly, Stryke had warded his property to prevent unauthorized and unexpected demons from popping in.
I’m fine, buddy. The hound’s concern faded.
Stryke stumbled to his feet, and Logan sent a roundhouse kick to the demon’s face, taking him down again. “You said you didn’t know anything about my parents.”
Dabbing blood from his mouth, Stryke sat up and laughed. “I lied. I know everything. Now, get the fuck out.”
As much as Logan wanted to go for another round with Stryke, he had shit to do.
And first up was a conversation with his parents.
Chapter Thirty-Two
When Logan arrived at his parents’ place, Wraith and his son, Talon, were just leaving.
“Hey, man.” Wraith gestured to the blood on Logan’s shirt and face. “You look like hell. Work or pleasure?”
He snorted. “Pleasure. Guy had it coming.” He looked down at himself as the last of his bruises faded and the cut on his lip sealed. Being able to draw healing power through his bond with Cujo was awesome. He’d be pain-free of even his worst wounds within minutes. Stryke would feel that fight for a couple of days.
Hilarious.
“Any news about Draven?” Talon asked.
“Nothing. He’s dropped off the face of the Earth. I’ve got Cujo looking for him, but it’d probably be easier to find a lost halo in Hell.”
“I’ve been looking for him too,” Wraith said. “Mace and I are meeting with thetormentusCouncil in an hour. If we can get their help, it widens the net.”
Interesting. Demon Councils rarely wanted to help anyone. “Why would they do that?”
“I used to hang with one of the Council members,” he said. “She...owes me some favors.”
“I’ll bet,” Talon muttered. “And why Mace?”
“Because he knows about my past with her, and he asked me.”
“How does he know about that, and I don’t?”
Wraith’s blue eyes flashed, sparked by years of friction between him and his son. “Maybe if you’d hang out with us more often, you’d know.”
It was time to seek an exit ramp because this was going to devolve quickly. Talon and Mace had hated each other since they were kids, and Wraith’s relationship with Mace was a giant wedge between Wraith and Talon.
Technically, Talon and Mace were cousinsandbrothers, and they were as unalike as any two Seminus demons ever were. Talon had also taken after his uncle Eidolon both in mannerisms and career, while Mace was basically a clone of Wraith—reckless, cocky, and dangerous, making matters even more volatile.
Not that Talon wasn’t a lethal motherfucker too. As Wraith’s son, he was a badass fighter, trained in multiple disciplines from the time he could walk. But it wasn’t long before little Talon preferred playing with toy scalpels instead of throwing knives and hanging out at Underworld General instead of the dojo.
On the other hand, Mace soaked up everything Wraith—his biological father—had to teach. He’d had no interest in anything even remotely healthcare-related, much to his parents’—Lore and Idess—disappointment.
