Pushing that thought aside, Divine stepped inside. This was obviously where customers would have been received when it had still been in use. It was a large reception area with a long counter running from one end, almost to the other. Beyond it was an old desk, some filing cabinets, and the door to another room. Despite the fact that it was bright daylight and the front of the offices were faced with large windows, this room was dim. A good cleaning of the grime that coated the windows would have fixed that, but Divine wasn’t here to perform housekeeping for her son. Besides, avoiding sunlight was always a good thing. The damage from sunlight meant more blood was needed and more frequent feeding was necessary.
Divine moved around the counter, her eyes shifting over everything as she crossed to the second door. There wasn’t much more to see, a few bits of old yellowed paper on the floor along with years of built-up dust and grime. Through the door though, she found a room that was nearly pitch-black.
“You made good time.”
Divine narrowed her eyes at the sound of Abaddon’s voice and waited for her night vision to kick in. Once it had, she saw that she was in a large room with a long table and several chairs. There was also a kitchenette of sorts at one end with a tired old white fridge and kitchen cupboards, half of them missing their doors. As for Abaddon, he was seated at a chair at the table, as comfortable as you please. His eyes glowed gold in the darkness.
Reaching to the side, Divine searched the wall for a switch, found it, and turned it on, but nothing happened.
“No electricity,” Abaddon said helpfully.
A rustling drew her attention back to him as he lifted what appeared to be a lantern onto the table. He turned a knob and the lantern gave off a weak glow that barely lit up a small circle around where he sat.
“Solar,” Abaddon explained. “Much cheaper than gas or oil lanterns and the like. Leave these outside during the day while we sleep and they can light up the night for us. I’m a great proponent of solar power,” he said with a smile, and the shadows cast by the light made him look like the devil himself.
The devil in a powder blue jogging suit, Divine thought, eyeing the man with disgust. Where she and Leo were fair-haired, Abaddon had dark hair, brown eyes with gold flecks in them, and a clean-shaven face. All in all he looked unremarkable; average build, average looks, totally nonthreatening. Most people would have mistaken him for a businessman on his way to working out after a busy day . . . until it was too late.
“Where’s Damian?” she asked shortly.
“On his way. You beat him here. But then, as I said, you made very good time.”
“I was in Vegas,” Divine said coldly. “But then you knew that.”
“Did I?” he asked mildly.
“If you didn’t then your spies are slipping.”
“Oh,” Abaddon said softly. “So you know.”
“That you’ve been jerking me around for two millennia?” Divine asked grimly.
“Two millennia plus seven hundred and forty-seven years,” Abaddon corrected. “I’m rather proud of that so you should give me every day I’m due.”
Divine stared at him. There was no shame or dismay at being caught, not that she’d expected any, but she’d expected something, and there was no apparent reaction in his face at all. She eyed him with loathing for a minute and then said, “If Damian is really coming, I’ll just wait to speak to him.”
“He isn’t coming,” Abaddon said at once. “In fact he doesn’t know about this place, or this meeting even. I told him I had some personal business to attend to, and suggested he just relax today and play. He took my advice,” Abaddon added with pleasure, and smiled when she cursed. “I gather you’re disappointed?”
“Only that he takes your advice on anything,” she snapped.
“He always takes my advice, Basha. He sees me as more of a parent than you could ever be,” Abaddon said, his voice dripping with feigned pity. “Because while he had to hide his true nature from you, he could always be himself with me. I know and accept him for what he is rather than try to turn him into what I want him to be.”
“Oh, stuff it, Abaddon,” she snarled, furious. “You were never a parent to him. He likes you because you always let him have his way. I was the parent, telling him no, punishing him when he was bad, and teaching him right from wrong.”
“Hmmm.” Abaddon nodded. “That must be why he confessed to me when he started torturing and killing small animals and children as a boy.”
Divine stiffened and felt herself pale at this news. Her son had tortured and killed animals and small children? Animals were bad enough, but small children? How could she not have known—?
“Because when he wept and fretted that you would be angry if you found out, I helped him hide it,” Abaddon said as if she had spoken her thoughts aloud. Smiling, he added, “Leo was worried for a while that it was naughty and there was something wrong with him, but I explained it was simply in his nature. Like a bee stings and a lion stalks, he was born to be like that. His father was like that before him and he was just as he was meant to be. That’s when I started calling him Leonius . . . and he liked it.”
“Bastard,” she growled, launching herself at him. Divine wanted to scratch his eyes out, choke him, and twist his head off in that moment, but she didn’t even get to touch him. Divine had barely taken two steps when she was grabbed from behind.
Cursing, she twisted her head from side to side to see that she’d been grabbed by two of her grandsons. No doubt the ones who had been sent to spy on her, Divine realized, and wondered how she could have forgotten about them.
“Sit her in the chair and chain her up,” Abaddon ordered, standing, and Divine found herself strong-armed across the room and set in the chair he’d just vacated. One of her grandsons—one of Damian’s sons, she corrected herself—then moved to the refrigerator, opened it, and retrieved some chain and several padlocks from a stack of them inside. It appeared they’d come prepared. Divine only wished she had. She’d been so determined to talk to her son, she hadn’t considered a scenario like this.
She remained silent as the two young no-fangers worked. Abaddon watched them, checked the chains afterward, and nodded his satisfaction. He then murmured something to one of the men. Despite her immortal hearing, all Divine caught were the words “I want you to go wait for—” as Abaddon walked the man out of the room. He returned alone a moment later, but didn’t even cast a glance toward Divine before beginning to pace, head down, expression thoughtful.
Divine frowned, her gaze sliding to the young no-fanger still behind her. He’d moved to lean against the wall, a bored expression on his face. Her gaze slid back to Abaddon, still pacing. “What are we waiting for?”
“Your life mate,” Abaddon answered absently, continuing to pace.
“Well then you’re wasting your time,” she said at once. “Marcus won’t come here. He doesn’t know where I am.”
“Yes he does. I left a message for him at the hotel with this address,” Abaddon murmured, taking out his phone when it made the sound of a foghorn. It was obviously a text message, and one that annoyed him, because he began tapping out a message in response, his mouth twisted with displeasure. He finished his message, started to slip the phone back in his pocket, only to pause and draw it back out when it made that foghorn sound again. He muttered with exasperation at whatever the latest incoming message said, and quickly typed another response. This time as he returned the phone he glanced to Divine and announced with irritation, “Your son is bored.”