Daemon settled on the bench with the feline grace that, combined with that body and face, made a woman’s pulse spike-even when the woman knew what could happen to her if the Sadist became annoyed. He was a Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince, the most powerful male in Kaeleer. He was also, may the Darkness help me, family.
“You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon,” I said.
“We are. Jaenelle and I came back to Amdarh for a day to visit the bookshops and pick up a few supplies before going to the cottage in Ebon Rih.” He paused, and his eyes got that sleepy look that always scared the shit out of me. “That was the intention anyway.” He looked at Rainier. “Surreal and I have a few things to discuss. Why don’t you take a walk?”
“Lady Surreal and I are working together,” Rainier replied.
I could have smacked Rainier for the subtle challenge in his voice. He knew better than that.
“Fine,” Daemon said-and he smiled.
Rainier paled. He excused himself and retreated. Not far. That Warlord Prince temperament wouldn’t let him back down all the way. So he settled on another bench where he could keep me in sight.
“Are you going to share that?” Daemon asked.
I handed over the bowl and spoon. “I thought you liked Rainier.”
“I do. What does that have to do with anything?” Daemon took a spoonful of flavored ice before handing it back to me. “Mm. That is good.”
“We are working together.”
“Whatever you tell him is your business.” He studied the park and waited.
“All right,” I finally said. “What do we know? There’s no reason for the killings.”
“Just because you don’t know what it is doesn’t mean there isn’t one,” Daemon said, his tone a mild scold. “Consider the predator instead of the prey. She’s an opportunistic killer. She’s not hunting for a particular man or a particular kind of man. She strikes when she can, where she can. She attacks males who wear lighter Jewels, so the odds are she wears at least the Opal Jewel.”
“But not a Jewel that’s close in strength to the Gray,” I murmured. “Her sight shield couldn’t hide her from me completely the one time I spotted her.”
Daemon nodded. “So you know you can take her without getting hurt unless you’re careless. She also chooses males who aren’t prepared to defend themselves, which indicates she wants the thrill of spilling blood without the risk of their fighting back.”
I huffed in frustration. “You arrived in Amdarh today. How did you figure all this out so fast?”
He laughed softly. “I’ve been playing this game a lot longer than you have. Besides, Lady Zhara and I had a chat this morning before I came looking for you, and she gave me all the information she had about the killings.”
A few weeks ago, the witches in Amdarh got their first taste of what it’s like to dance with the Sadist. After that unfortunate incident, I bet Zhara, the Queen of Amdarh, was thrilled to have a chat with Daemon.
Then he looked at me. “Are you worried that you’ll find a mirror when you find her?”
Damn him. He knew.
“She’s not a mirror, Surreal. You never made a kill that wasn’t deserved. You took pleasure from the killing, but you never killed for pleasure. There’s a difference.”
“You don’t know all the kills were deserved.”
He just looked at me.
We’ve known each other for centuries. I was a child when I met him, when he helped my mother and me. I’ll never know how closely he kept track of me after I began my career with a knife, but now I had no doubt, none at all, that if I’d become a killer in the same way the witch we hunted was, I wouldn’t be sitting here. He would have destroyed me long ago. I shouldn’t have felt relieved knowing that, but I did.
“How do we find this bitch, Sadi?”
“If you can’t find the predator, give the predator a reason to find you. Provide irresistible bait.” His smile was gentle and vicious. “The prey that seems the sweetest is always the one that got away.”
–
I crouched in front of the little Yellow-Jeweled Warlord. The miniature man. My irresistible bait. “You know what to do?”
“Yes, Lady,” he said, his voice so subdued I could barely hear him.
“I’ll be close by.”
He nodded. “If she cuts me, will it hurt?”
I looked toward the table tucked in the back corner of the coffee shop. Jaenelle Angelline looked back at me, her sapphire eyes full of something feral and dark.
“Yes,” Jaenelle said gently, “it will hurt.” She pointed to the wooden frame that held the web of illusions she’d created to play out this game. “By itself, the illusion I’ve made of you will fool the eye, but in order to fool the hand when someone touches it, it has to be linked to you. While nothing will actually happen to you, you will feel whatever happens to it.”
The little Warlord looked into those sapphire eyes. Whatever he found there gave him what he needed. “I will serve to the best of my ability.”
Jaenelle smiled. “I know.”
I gave the little Warlord one last, long look. He had a loose button on his jacket. It hadn’t been loose yesterday evening when the boy and his instructor came to the family town house so that Jaenelle could build the web of illusions.
Some of the tension inside me eased. It was such a little detail, but I’d be able to use it to tell when the switch was made and the illusion took the boy’s place out on the street.
We took our positions. Daemon stayed in the coffee shop with Jaenelle. The boy’s instructor took his usual place at a window table. Rainier and I sight shielded before leaving the shop. He crossed the main street to tuck into a doorway near that corner. I crossed the side street, settling into a doorway just beyond the alley. The boy went to the corner to perform escort duties, leading ladies across the street.
We watched, waited. So far, all the killings had taken place in this part of the city, but there was no guarantee the bitch wouldn’t start hunting somewhere else, no guarantee she’d come close enough to spot the bait.
An hour passed. We watched. Waited. I tensed every time a lone female approached the corner, every time the boy offered his hand as an escort-and breathed a sigh of relief every time he stepped into the coffee shop to receive advice from his instructor. But every time the small figure left the coffee shop, it was still wearing a jacket with a loose button.
I gritted my teeth. I trusted Jaenelle, and I could understand her delaying as long as possible before making the switch in case someone could recognize the illusion for what it was. But, Hell’s fire, why was she waiting so long?
We were coming up on the two-hour mark, which would end the training session, when something drifted toward me on the air. Something that made me edgy, uneasy. I scanned the people going about their business, cursing when I lost sight of the boy as a carriage passed by. Then I saw him again. And I saw her. She came from Dhemlan, so there was nothing about her looks that would attract attention, but I knew it was she.
They crossed the side street on the opposite side from me. I held my breath and hoped Jaenelle could still make the switch from boy to illusion before the rest of this game was played out.
The witch said something to him that made him smile, brought out that bright-eyed puppy eagerness to please.
They crossed the main street. He stayed at the corner. She continued up the street, toward the alley. Toward me.
She glanced at the alley, then stopped and cried out, “He’s hurt! Mother Night, he’s hurt!” She looked around frantically. “Help me, Warlord. Help me. He’s hurt!” She darted into the alley.
The boy stayed true to his training. A female had cried for help. He ran into the alley after her.
And I saw the loose button on his jacket.
I heard his panicked cry as I rushed into the alley.
“Let him go, bitch,” I snarled, calling in the hunting knife.