Dante

  As the motorcycle devoured highway miles, calmness evaded Dante and his grip on the handlebars tightened with every passing minute.

  The wind whipping his face failed to clear his mind; instead, thoughts of his mother's secrets, the attacks on Eva's life, and the mysterious parchment in his pocket boiled over inside him.

  He was returning home more frustrated than ever.

  Every lead on Eva had turned to ash. Rumors of a returning Prime were just that. Idle chatter. Conspiracy theories regurgitated by everyone. And now his only real lead was fucking dead.

  If what the Caster had said was true and his mother had been a Keeper, had his father known? Why would they have kept that from him? He didn't know what to make of his childhood anymore. Of his mother…

  Dante doubled the speed limit, weaving between cars when needed until he reached the city limits and finally the bar.

  Once he'd parked, he burst through the front doors of Inferno, exhausted from travel and pissed from the resurfacing memories he worked so hard to keep at bay.

  If there was anything he hated more than his father, it was not getting what he wanted. He wanted this bullshit to be over. It was taking too much of his psyche and he could feel the demon within him itching for release.

  His entrance was abrupt and he ignored the curious gaze of his patrons and Nightborne barkeep. After snatching a bottle of bourbon from the bar and snapping at the boy to bring him food, he pushed the door to the hall roughly so he could head to his office and collapse.

  All he wanted to do was drink himself into a stupor to soothe his raging headache. Three long swigs later, he shoved open his office door, slamming it against the wall.

  "Trouble in paradise?"

  Electric tension filled the air when Dante's eyes snapped open. Stopping his stalk into the room, Dante's eyes narrowed as he took in the familiar figure sitting behind his desk.

  Arcturus, his former mentor, and Tartarus' one-time Proxy looked virtually unchanged by time. His pale face was still chiseled, with sharp cheekbones and a jawline that seemed carved from stone. The black rune tattoos on his neck and chest appeared just as dark and menacing as Dante remembered.

  Arcturus' short, wispy black hair was still gelled back, revealing a prominent forehead creased from scowling over the millennia. His intense gaze was fixed on Dante, his blue eyes gleaming with a knowing intelligence. His fingers were steepled together, the black stains on his fingertips a testament to his continued mastery of the dark arts.

  Dante's expression darkened as he strode forward, his agitation evident in his sharp movements.

  "Arcturus," he said, his voice low and even. "I wasn't expecting you. Fuck is he doing in my office?”

  Dante's grip on the bottle tightened, anger and shock warring as he looked to Danai, who stood cross-armed in the far corner near his records.

  "Ssorry boss." She hissed. "Tried to kick him out, but he threatened to pull my hornsss out."

  “I would have loved to see him try." A hint of dark delight danced in his eyes, his tone utterly sincere. Dante gave Arcturus his attention after silently dismissing Danai with a nod. Deadpan, he asked in a low and menacing tone, “How'd you find me?”

  Arcturus's gaze never wavered, his eyes glinting with a hint of amusement.

  "Dante," he replied, his voice smooth as silk. "It's been a long time. I see you're still as... territorial as ever.”

  “What do you want, Arcturus?" Dante's jaw clenched with his demand, his eyes flashing with irritation.

  "Heard you were looking for an audience." Arcturus leaned back in the chair, placing his dirty black boots on top of the desk in a disrespectful action that Dante tried not to shoot him for.

  He needed him alive, but Dantes's patience was wearing thin.

  Possibly seeing the agitation on his face, a low, amused rumble vibrated in Arcturus’ throat. "The Caster's death must have rattled you.”

  “And why would I know anything about some Caster's death?” Dante pretended to drink from his bottle before approaching his workspace and placing it down. His headache demanded whiskey, but his gut insisted he stay sharp if he was going to interrogate Arcturus about Lilith's prison and the threats circling Eva.

  He knocked the man's boots off of his desk, unable to stand the disrespect any longer.

  It earned him a scowl but it was quickly replaced with the previously subtle smirk. "The Nether is abuzz with your folly, demon-hunter. A bounty on a shifty Malevolent is one thing; murdering a Proxy's Caster in cold blood… entirely another.”

  Dante didn't let the confusion of the Caster belonging to a Proxy cross his features. Why would a Proxy Caster risk their life to follow him? To help him? Instead, his hand tightened on the paper in his pocket and he questioned again why Arcturus decided to show up unannounced.

  “You called upon me, boy.” He waved a hand towards Dante who shrugged and responded that he'd just wanted to see if the rumors were true. When Dante didn't elaborate, Acturus eyed him. "Nothing but hearsay, I'm sure."

  "And yet, here you are." Dante placed his hands on the edge, hoping to get a scent of him as he leaned closer.

  The night of Eva's break-in there had been many scents: hers, the police, her idiot brothers, and another he couldn't place.

  But it didn't seem to belong to the former Proxy.

  "And here I am." Arcturus did the same, leaning into Dante's face.

  “There's been talk of a new play on the throne in the Nether." Dante stared at the man for any signs of a tell. "Of an ancient returning."

  "Now why would any of that concern you?" His brow ticked up in cocky surprise. "I thought your usual scene was more island beaches–"

  "What do you know of my usual scene?" Dante interrupted cooly only to have him continue talking over him.

  "With exotic whores." He spat out before straightening in the chair with a wave of his hands as if displaying Dante's own office to him. "Nice to see you… settling down again. And this time making roots."

  “Mm, I decided not to let Tartarus’ betrayal drive me to insanity.” His lips twisted into a subtle, teasing smile, hoping to get a reaction. “But madness suits perfectly. You may have taught me strategy but, Tartarus taught me exactly why you'd never rule the Nether. Lack of bloodline.”

  Arcturus' jaw clenched with annoyance.

  "After your father betrayed me, I secured a position where my council is highly valued–”

  "You make it sound so official." He interrupted again, knowing it enraged his former mentor. He watched the man stand and walk around the desk though he kept his distance from the hunter. "As if you and Daddy dearest weren't plotting to take over the human world."

  "Who hasn't. Doesn't.” He cast a cursory glance around the room, lean frame exuding quiet disengagement before shrugging nonchalantly. When he gave Dante his attention again, his expression was smug. “Isn't."

  "Narrow it down." Dante's tone flattened and the Caster scoffed.

  "You can't be serious, boy." Dante remained silent and Arcturus bellowed at his unwavering gaze. "What's got you interested in Neth's throne games? And asking subtle questions? Last I checked you hunted demons, not political intrigue.”

  "And what makes you think you know my style?" Dante asked cooly, earning another amused chuckle.

  “Your style is more tantrum throwing, sword swinging…” He paused for effect while he held up his right hand as if to remind Dante of his missing ring and pinky finger. "Not exactly subtle, Dante. Guns blazing would almost be an improvement over your usual chaos. Or must I remind you of our last encounter?”

  "Only if you wish to lose the remaining set." Dante's chuckle was dark, remembering Arcturus’ years of deceit. Still looking for common hatred of Tartarus, the former Proxy had tracked Dante down nearly twenty years later with talk of reconciliation. Only to be met with Dante's swift sword as an answer. They had caused such an uproar in the Persian bathhouse, Dante had to relocate. Again.

  "I've told you all I know, boy." He uttered the words through gritted teeth, jaw clenched in revulsion before composing himself. “I no longer harbor ill-intent towards your treacherous father.”

  Dante doubted that.

  "Is freeing Lilith your current agenda rather than seeking revenge against Tartarus?" Dantes's question was blunt, as he was tired of playing games with the demon.

  “Finally,” Arcturus mused, “the reason for my summoning."

  "Yes. Or no." Dante was done with all the runaround and wanted to strap the Caster to the desk to remind him of his easy temper.

  "Lilith has been lost to the ages. Unfortunately." He shrugged. "Your ‘daddy dearest’ made sure of that."

  There was a snideness in that last statement that Dante made sure to take note of. It appeared his resentment towards his former master was still strong.

  "Her reign would have been glorious." Arcturus let his eyes fall shut, becoming lost in thought. There was a hint of longing on his face and Dante realized his delusions were still just as strong as the resentment.

  "Yes, I love the taste of fire and brimstone with my morning coffee." Dante's tone was sardonic. But he had to throw in another probing jab. "Well, lucky for us, that bitch is long gone."

  He recalled the story of Tartarus' betrayal, how he had trapped the other three Primordials to rule the Nether. And Arcturus… Arcturus had betrayed Tartarus when his masters' claims of shared power were lies. But now, listening to Arcturus' words, Dante wondered if there was more to the story. If maybe his loyalty had actually been with Lilith.

  The Caster’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly at Dante's sarcasm. For a moment, his gaze seemed to flash with anger, but he quickly regained control, his expression smoothing into a mask of politeness.

  Dante watched the subtle shift in his demeanor, his own instincts on high alert. He knew he'd struck a nerve, but he wasn't sure what to make of Arcturus' reaction.

  "Ah, Dante, always the wit." His voice was full of false amusement. "But let's not forget, Lilith's reign was a time of great power and prosperity for our kind. It's only natural to feel a sense of nostalgia for such a golden age."

  As Arcturus spoke, his eyes seemed to bore into Dante's, searching for any sign of weakness or vulnerability.

  "Yes, and I'm sure your nostalgia for Lilith's reign has absolutely nothing to do with your own selfish interests," Dante said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “But then again, you've always been more interested in serving your own ambitions. You and Tartarus share a remarkable talent for betraying those who trust you.”

  He watched as the Caster's lips curled into a sinister smile.

  "Your father would be disappointed with how attached you've grown to your humanity. I wonder what's made you so… soft. From my time with Tartarus, I know it obviously wasn't your upbringing." He assessed Dante before clasping his hands together with faux wonder. "Would it be the new Nubian pet you've taken?"

  Dante stiffened with the shiver that ran down his spine. A darkness took his tone at the mention of Eva. "You've been following me?"

  He couldn't see how. Dante was usually more observant of his surroundings. Caution was mandatory with most of the Nether wanting his head for his father's crimes and The Society watching him for his own crimes against humanity.

  Arcturus chuckled, clearly enjoying Dante's discomfort.

  "Following you? Oh, no, merely… observing. I don't have time to follow a lost puppy with his Keeper plaything. But I do have little eyes everywhere. Your father's influence is waning, and I'm curious to see what becomes of you." He leaned forward, his eyes glinting with malice but his tone turning innocent. "I have to confess, I am also curious about your interest in the girl. Is she a new distraction for you, or perhaps something more?"

  Dante's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, mirroring Arcturus' posture. He didn't like the way Arcturus was looking at him or the subtle venom in his words. "She is of your concern."

  Arcturus' smile grew wider, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, how… touching. The great Dante, halfbreed son of the infamous Tartarus, has finally found someone he cares about. And a Keeper, at that! I’m intrigued.” He chuckled, the sound low and menacing. "Tell me, Dante, what makes this Brief so special that you'd risk your own neck to protect her?"

  He'd tried to walk by, but Dante sidestepped to block his path. "If I find you've had anything to do with–"

  "Your empty threats mean nothing to me, boy. I raised you." The black runes tattooed on his neck began to glow a blue, as did the fire he conjured in his hands. His gaze seemed to bore into Dante's soul as if daring him to strike.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Dante had already removed his pistol from its holster and the barrel was pointed low, directly at the demon's jewels. His gun gave a slight nudge as he smirked and Arcturus glanced down with a sly smirk of his own.

  "Now, Dante, that's no way to treat your former mentor.” He took a step back and waved away the blue flames before raising his hands to show his extinguished palms. “Especially since you went to so much trouble to track me down.”

  Arcturus' gaze lingered on Dante, his expression unreadable.

  "I must admit, I was intrigued by your request for an audience," he said with curiosity. "Especially after our… memorable last encounter."

  Dante's eyes narrowed, his grip on the pistol tightening. "What are you hiding, Arcturus?"

  Arcturus shrugged, his smile never wavering. "Nothing that concerns you. At least, not yet."

  Dante bit back his rage as Arcturus walked by, aware that the demon's vast experience and cunning made him a force to be reckoned with. As a seasoned veteran of the Nether, Arcturus had earned his appointment as Proxy, a distinction reserved for only the most skilled and trusted Malevolent.

  Killing him wouldn't be as easy as ripping off his head. Didn't mean Dante hadn't tried a time or two. Or that he didn't want to try again with Arcturus apparently keeping tabs on him all this time.

  "It was… enlightening to see you again, but I fear our conversation has reached its natural conclusion.” Arcturus began to back away, his eyes never leaving Dante's face. “Be seeing you, Son of Tartarus.”

  Dante watched Arcturus walk out of his office, the door closing behind him with a soft click. He couldn't shake the feeling that Arcturus was hiding something, and his instincts screamed he was missing a crucial piece to the puzzle.

  Arcturus seemed to despise his father just as much as Dante did, but Dante wasn't exactly sure what the Casters' endgame was. Last they'd met, his sole purpose was vengeance for his master's betrayal.

  As he stood there, his grip on the pistol still tight, he felt a wave of frustration wash over him. He had been so sure that confronting Arcturus would give him some answers, but instead, he was left with even more questions.

  Dante took a deep breath and holstered his pistol, his eyes scanning the room to make sure he was truly alone so he could finally look over what the Proxy Caster had risked her life over.

  Before he could make a move for his desk, the door to his office opened and Dante drew his weapon again, pointing at who he'd hoped was the former Proxy returning. Unfortunately, it was only the barkeep boy.

  The boy's eyes widened as he took in the sight of Dante's pistol trained on him.

  “Whoa, easy there!” he exclaimed, hands raised in a calming gesture.

  Dante lowered his pistol, his expression unchanging and his tone gruff. “What are you doing here, kid?”

  The barkeep boy's eyes remained fixed on Dante's pistol as he answered, "Just brought your food, boss. Danai's got your usual ready."

  Dante nodded curtly, holstering his pistol.

  Just then, Danai slithered into the room, her snake-like eyes fixed on Dante. "Sssso, bossman, who was the mysssterious ssstranger?" she asked, her voice low and sultry.

  The boy snapped his fingers, grinning at Danai. "I thought for sure he was gonna kill him. I owe you a Caster's tongue.”

  Danai's eyes gleamed with interest. "I would have loved to tasste his eyessss."

  Dante massaged the back of his neck with a wry smile twisting his lips. "Sorry to disappoint."

  The barkeep boy chuckled, but Danai's gaze lingered on Dante's face, her eyes narrowing. She could probably tell he was tired, and not just from the encounter with Arcturus.

  Danai placed the plate on the desk, her movements fluid and silent. "Eat; you look like you could ussssse a meal."

  It was his usual craving after ascending from the Nether; a bloody steak cooked to a rareness that made his demon half stir with hunger. The juices glistened on the plate, and the scent of charred meat wafted up, offering to satisfy the demonic hunger that sometimes drove him.

  He didn't think he had a soul to revolt, but something about the brutal simplicity of the meal still made him feel like a monster.

  The barkeep boy teased, "Damn, bossman, you're worse than after a brawl. You sure you didn't need it raw this time?”

  Danai's gaze flicked to the boy, her eyes flashing with a warning. Dante's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched in irritation, as he watched Danai drag the boy out of the room by his ear.

  "Let'sssss leave him to his meal, sshhall we?" she hissed.

  Once he was alone, Dante's gaze shifted between the bottle of bourbon and the plate on his desk.

  He eyed the steak, its rareness almost intoxicating. The bloody interior seemed to call to him, awakening a primal craving that he couldn't ignore.

  He opted for the food, deciding that a clear head was necessary for the task at hand. Picking up his knife and fork, he took a bite of the steak, the metallic tang of blood and meat satisfying the monster within him.

  While he refueled, he removed the message from his pocket, unfolding the yellowed parchment with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

  The scroll's surface was worn and cracked and most of the text was in faded ink, making it difficult to understand.

  Dante's brow furrowed as he struggled to decipher the text. The script was also cryptic, but he recognized a few passages that seemed to reference the crystals and his fingers rubbed against his forehead in frustration.

  After a moment of reading, and re-reading, he finally thought maybe he'd pieced some things together.

  The first part of the text stated:

  Meaning four crystals created by Kaos, from her very essence to cage Primordials and keep balance. To probably keep balance of the Realms after the rift.

  The second:

  He was unsure of this passage but it sounded like a sacrifice was and needed to be made. One he was hoping didn't involve Evanora. The word innocent was what caused an ache in his chest.

  The third spoke of some type of convergence needed to power the release of a crystal.

  And lastly, before the paper ripped apart at the bottom:

  His gaze repeatedly came back to the words 'Harmonic Keys'. It was the same phrase the Caster had whispered with her dying breath.

  Only he still wasn't sure what the keys even were.

  Besides what he'd deciphered, there was no further explanation. All she'd given him were the beginnings of ominous and vague ceremonial details.

  Dante felt his migraine increase behind his eyes.

  There was no known written history of how the crystals came to be in lore and legend. If this parchment was true, Kaos had been the true creator of the crystals.

  Not his father.

  Which meant the original history told to the Nether by the remaining Proxies, who were present during the notorious crystallization, was a lie. And if it was a lie, how exactly had The Society gotten their hands on the Primordials? Was it Kaos who'd actually hidden the crystals? Was his father even to blame for the Prime’s being imprisoned?

  The dead Caster's words replayed in Dante's mind as he continued to look over the ancient paper for any details he could have missed.

  The Keepers were bound by ancient chains with their Caster essence silenced, their blood tied by the lies of their elders.

  The answers he needed were tied to a family with Caster's blood.

  Was there a hidden Caster bloodline within the Keepers? He questioned if she'd meant Eva's bloodline.

  Or his.

  If his mother was a Keeper, therefore… a Caster, by default, so was he. He'd assumed all his power came from his father's essence, but if the other half of his bloodline wasn't human that would mean he also had a piece of Kaos in him.

  He wanted to question the Oswalds but wasn't sure if they would even have answers or if they were part of the cover-up. Had they known his mother was a Keeper? Were there more Keepers who were Caster’s?

  The Society's whole purpose was to destroy Malevolent’s so to have some in their midst seemed unlikely. But if Kaos had created both Caster’s and humans it wasn't a stretch to assume there'd be some mingling of the bloodlines before, or even after, the rift despite the strict laws of Malevolent and human breeding. Their anatomy, after all, was the most compatible of the Prime's creations.

  Regardless if he trusted the Oswalds, he wanted to question them on the parchment. It wouldn't have been possible for them to be Keepers and not know of this information. He was tired of being left in the dark and went to them to demand answers.

  They'd already given him their address so he could help watch over Eva tonight, and as he pulled the bike into the driveway, he tried to calm his temper.

  He didn't waste time knocking and he entered their home with thoughts of how reckless it was to keep the front door unlocked. He’d felt the weight of the protection spell on his demon half as soon as he'd pulled past the tree line so at least they were attempting to be cautious.

  He found them in the back of the house arguing.

  No one but Monroe, who stopped mid-sentence, seemed surprised to see him entering the kitchen. The Reaper jumped back into the disagreement when Lowell began to talk over him.

  "Wait, what are they wanting to do?" They wanted to relocate the girl? Dante tried not to let his tone go dark with the anger he'd driven over with.

  He looked to Eva, who leaned against the refrigerator, looking only at the floor. Her arms were crossed and her face was set in vexation.

  "We've had to involve the elders." The father finally spoke up. "And they weren't pleased with the outcome of the last few days.”

  "Pissed." Lowell sighed. "It's getting harder to cover our tracks."

  "So they want to relocate the pendant," Monroe stated. "To someone… younger."

  "Just the pendant?" He looked at Eva again, and relief flooded into him. But only for a moment.

  Just the pendant. She wasn't leaving him, but that would leave her unprotected. Whatever had sent the Pyropex had her scent or the pendants. Dante could smell its muted power. When he first scouted her home, he thought it was something she had burnt while cooking but soon realized it followed her wherever she went. A subtle hint of something… off. "What about her?"

  “They've given an ultimatum,” Her mother said. “Relinquish the pendant for another ancestral line or complete the Five Point by Saturday.”

  “Five Point, what is this?” He looked at Eva and her jaw clenched as if she wasn't happy with this option.

  They were silent and she looked around the room with confusion and animosity in her tone. “What? Can he not know? Is it another Keeper secret?”

  “Baby–” Her father tried but she cut him off.

  “It's how the pendant stays hidden after” –she'd started off strong but suddenly broke off, unable to hold Dante’s gaze as she continued– “when I'm not a virgin anymore.” Her cheeks warmed but she continued, looking at the floor again. “Our blood will be given as tribute to the pendant during a marital bonding ceremony. Because Monroe and I have… pure bloodlines. Mine was given as a baby but I need to do it again with… him.”

  So she being taken from him. Dante's jaw clenched and he refused to look at the Reaper.

  “Original bloodline?” His question was strained with the rage he tried to conceal. They wouldn't be able to do the bond if Monroe no longer had blood to give. Scenarios of his Nightborne errand boy ripping into the Reaper’s throat played behind Dante's eyes and though it should have calmed him, it didn't.

  “A line from the original Society creators or something.” She shrugged and mumbled, “I still don't understand how that works. They were original tributes or something.”

  he thought.

  The parchment was right.

  His heart quickened, his mind racing with the implications.

  The innocent it was referring to was her. However, that still didn't explain the keys.

  "I want to be a Reaper." Eva's soft-spoken request was piercing in the quiet room, as was her family's unanimous rejection.

  "Why not?" Dante crossed his arms in solidarity, even though he hated the idea. She finally looked at him, and the gratitude was heavy in her gaze, making him hard with the quiet praise. She thought he was being chivalrous, sticking up for her, but he was being selfish. Anything to keep the Reaper's dick out of her. "There are female Reaper's."

  "This doesn't concern you. This is a family matter." Lowell nearly snapped then looked towards his sister with more kindness. "Eva, you cry when we accidentally run over squirrels. You don't understand what you're asking. You're making rash decisions, because you're scared–"

  "Of course I'm scared." She nearly shouted. "I want to be able to help. I'm no good if I'm untrained. It's bad enough you Nyxed me and kept this life from me for nearly fourteen years. Do you know how dangerous that was?"

  "Irresponsible, really," Dante mumbled, earning the wrath of Monroe.

  "Are you trying to get her killed?" He pleaded angrily. "Do you not have somewhere to be? Some demon to question? Some source to sniff out like the good little bloodhound you are?”

  "Jesus, Monroe, shut up.” Eva snapped at the back of his head and Dante was ready for the Reaper to push back, but he didn't. He watched her expression soften as she fingered the crystal of the pendant. “I won't stand by and watch the people I care about die. I need to help."

  She'd expressed her fears earlier, but he was just now hearing her. He could tell she didn't want this marital bond but what she truly was afraid for were those around her. More than herself.

  "What if they come here?" Her voice was small.

  "They won't," the mother tried to console her, but Eva brushed her hands away not wanting to be touched.

  "But what if–"

  "They won't." Her father cut her off sternly. "The house and the shop are protected. Your apartment was harder to do with so many humans."

  "So I'm never going back." It wasn't a question, more of an acknowledgment that they didn't give a response. She sunk back into the fridge and he hated the defeated stupor she seemed to be sinking into as she chewed the inside of her cheek.

  "I came across this today." Dante took the parchment from his jacket pocket, some of the anger he'd felt when he first barged in rising within him again. He tossed it to the island in the middle of the room where Lowell and Monroe had been scheming over the council's idiotic decision.

  Monroe snatched the paper quickly, his determined gaze scanning over it.

  "Where the hell did you get this?" He passed the paper to Eva's father when the man requested to have a look.

  "I'm getting the sense you aren't surprised to see this," Dante said curtly, looking at her parents.

  "No, I mean.” Her father blanched. "Pages like this have been lost for ages."

  "And you expect us to believe it just fell into your lap?" Monroe scoffed and he ignored him.

  "If you knew of a potential ceremony, why didn't you tell me?" He demanded angrily. "I've been chasing my damn tail and you knew there was more information on the crystals floating around?"

  "No," the mother soothed. "You know what we know. Yes, we knew pages were missing from The Great Book but we've never actually seen them. It's been speculation all these years on what was even on them. And if–"

  She broke off and looked towards her husband.

  "What?" Dante demanded.

  "If your father took them when he realized The Society had crossed him. A lot of our records either burned or vanished around the time he did. Records like how to trap an original demon."

  "And it's convenient as hell that most of the how and when is missing here." Monroe spat, waving his hand towards Dante. "How do we know you don't have the remaining pages? That you haven't had them the entire time? That you're not behind this?"

  "Because if I wanted to release Lilith I would have done so already." He snapped back at the Reaper though only looked to her parents. "I hate working blind. You should have told me."

  "It was need-to-know information. And you didn't need to know." Monroe waved him off. "Your job was to protect the pendant, demon. Nothing more."

  He didn't like Monroe's accusatory tone and could see Eva didn't either. The way she looked at the back of his head was the same look she'd given him when they'd dined together. He watched her leave, but no one seemed to notice; they were focused on trying to decode the cryptic texts.

  He looked to Evanora's parents after Monroe's protection for just the pendant comment. "That's not what the contract stated."

  They looked to a confused Monroe before giving their attention back to Dante. "You're right. It was a lapse in judgment of wording on our part.”

  Lie. He knew it wasn't a damn lapse. They wanted to protect their daughter while Monroe wanted to protect the world.

  Dante questioned what wanted. He looked to the door that he'd seen Eva exit.

  "Are there any major events happening soon? It seems to be hinting at needing a power source here." Her mother asked. "Monroe would you mind–"

  Dante didn't stick around to hear their plan. They had continuously lied to him. They couldn't be trusted. He decided not to tell them what he'd learned and would find out the information he needed on his own.

  For now, though, he left the kitchen and searched for the girl. He'd never actually been in this home before, so he wasn't sure where she could have gone, and using his nose, he realized her smell was all over the house. It was more so up the stairs but the smell of blueberry was coming from down the hall. It stopped right in front of a floor-length family portrait that seemed out of place in the more modern home. He could faintly hear the sound of her footsteps not too far from him.

  He pulled at the edge carefully and once he realized there was a corridor, he followed her down.

  He'd follow her anywhere, he realized, if it kept her safe.

  She'd started a pace across from him and, when she'd turned, seemed surprised to find him at the base of the stairs. Her shock only lasted a moment before reverting back to the animosity he'd seen in the kitchen.

  "It's like they're trying to get us all killed." She motioned her hand toward the top of the stairs.

  He shook his head, hoping to calm her worry. "They're trying to protect you. We all are."

  "By literally hiding me away." She threw her hands up, continuing to pace across from him then stopping. "And when they take the pendant? I'm dead. Because they refuse to tell me anything, to let me help. I can't protect myself, protect us. I don't even know how to throw a punch.”

  He tried to reign in his smile. She wasn't even entertaining the idea of the marital bond. The Reaper had put his final nail in his coffin.

  "You're right." He nodded and his agreement confused her. "You're a sitting duck."

  When he came to stand before her, she took a step away from him, and an unnatural pang shot to his heart with her deliberate distance. Had he scared her again? "I'm not going to hurt you, Evanora."

  Her cheeks flushed that seductive barely there dewy red and she crossed her arms over her chest. She couldn't make eye contact as she mumbled, "That's not what I was afraid of."

  This time, when he nodded, it was in understanding as the pang eased. She thought he was going to kiss her again. And it turned her on. Again, though he knew he shouldn't, he liked having that effect on her.

  He couldn't promise her anything so he didn't. Instead, he lifted his hands and instructed her to hit him.