knows anything. If you stop the shipment, he’ll know who betrayed him.”
“A shipment of what, exactly?” Thom asked.
She fidgeted. “How should I know? Guns? I’ve given him a truck and a man to drive it. That’s it. I’m not privy to his plans.”
“Where is this truck going?”
“Thom—the Night Hag—”
He loomed over the desk. He wasn’t much taller than Elise, but he suddenly seemed to fill the room. “Tell me.”
Portia’s lips trembled as she opened a desk drawer, pulled out a map, and began drawing lines. “Here. They’re coming from a port in Long Beach and going to a temporary depot. It’s been set up in a lake bed… there.” Her fingers clutched the map tight. “Giving this to you could mean my death.”
“Life is a fleeting illusion. Regardless, Mr. Black is not your only danger.”
She whispered a prayer as she let go of the map.
At a glance from Thom, Elise stepped forward to take it. She couldn’t find any pity within herself. A woman who knowingly dealt with rogue kopides and demonic overlords was no victim.
“Be fast,” Portia whispered. “Please. For everyone’s sake.”
Elise stepped back. Thom opened the door.
“Enjoy your party,” he said.
Portia didn’t follow them onto the balcony overlooking the lethe party. As soon as the door swung shut, Elise turned on him. “What was the point of that? You didn’t need me to help collect information. She’s scared shitless. You could have—”
“Silence. Tell me what you see.”
She frowned. “Rich people on drugs.”
“And?”
Elise gave the room a second look. It was hard to make anything out through the haze of tobacco and lethe beside the occasional flash of a glowing cube, like the flare of a firework. Then a glint of metal caught her eye, and she realized one of the men on the arm of a wealthy socialite was wearing a shackle. It was a bewitched shackle, with no visible chains, but a shackle nonetheless. There was a glimmer in the corner of her eye, a tugging at the back of her neck.
“Magic,” she murmured. “That’s magic, isn’t it?”
Thom leaned over her shoulder, cheek brushing hers. His body was warm at her back. “Why would a kopis sense magic?”
She didn’t think he expected an answer, so she didn’t try to give one. Once Elise saw the magic around the shackle, she saw it elsewhere, too—twinkling on a woman’s earring, haloed around the head of a gray-haired man, on several other wrists. They weren’t all in the form of bracelets. Some were necklaces. One was an anklet.
The bound ones weren’t smiling, as the others were. All of them had pale blue eyes that were almost silver. And the resemblance didn’t end there. Though none had hair or skin of quite the same shade, they all looked similar to the degree that cousins looked similar. Smooth-faced, androgynous, ageless.
None of them were human.
Elise gripped the railing. “Angels,” she said, her voice so soft she thought Thom wouldn’t hear.
Fingers grazed the back of her neck. “Look closer.”
It was like a fog lifted from her mind. She could suddenly sense them the same way she sensed demons, and what was more, she could see them. Ghostly stubs glowed at their scapulas. Their wings had been severed, and someone was hiding it. They were enslaved.
“Now you know why I brought you to this party. You had to see—and be seen. Mr. Black will know the sword has come into play.”
Adrenaline thrilled through her. “He’s not the only one who will know. Damn it, Thom, you never should have brought me here.”
Even though she whispered, her voice caught the attention of an angel. Recognition sparked between them.
One by one, the slaves fell silent, and a dozen pairs of eyes fixed on her.
Their lips moved in unison to mouth a single word with three syllables. She didn’t hear them, but she knew what word it was, and what it meant.
“This was a mistake,” Elise said.
“A calculated risk.” His hand curled around
“A shipment of what, exactly?” Thom asked.
She fidgeted. “How should I know? Guns? I’ve given him a truck and a man to drive it. That’s it. I’m not privy to his plans.”
“Where is this truck going?”
“Thom—the Night Hag—”
He loomed over the desk. He wasn’t much taller than Elise, but he suddenly seemed to fill the room. “Tell me.”
Portia’s lips trembled as she opened a desk drawer, pulled out a map, and began drawing lines. “Here. They’re coming from a port in Long Beach and going to a temporary depot. It’s been set up in a lake bed… there.” Her fingers clutched the map tight. “Giving this to you could mean my death.”
“Life is a fleeting illusion. Regardless, Mr. Black is not your only danger.”
She whispered a prayer as she let go of the map.
At a glance from Thom, Elise stepped forward to take it. She couldn’t find any pity within herself. A woman who knowingly dealt with rogue kopides and demonic overlords was no victim.
“Be fast,” Portia whispered. “Please. For everyone’s sake.”
Elise stepped back. Thom opened the door.
“Enjoy your party,” he said.
Portia didn’t follow them onto the balcony overlooking the lethe party. As soon as the door swung shut, Elise turned on him. “What was the point of that? You didn’t need me to help collect information. She’s scared shitless. You could have—”
“Silence. Tell me what you see.”
She frowned. “Rich people on drugs.”
“And?”
Elise gave the room a second look. It was hard to make anything out through the haze of tobacco and lethe beside the occasional flash of a glowing cube, like the flare of a firework. Then a glint of metal caught her eye, and she realized one of the men on the arm of a wealthy socialite was wearing a shackle. It was a bewitched shackle, with no visible chains, but a shackle nonetheless. There was a glimmer in the corner of her eye, a tugging at the back of her neck.
“Magic,” she murmured. “That’s magic, isn’t it?”
Thom leaned over her shoulder, cheek brushing hers. His body was warm at her back. “Why would a kopis sense magic?”
She didn’t think he expected an answer, so she didn’t try to give one. Once Elise saw the magic around the shackle, she saw it elsewhere, too—twinkling on a woman’s earring, haloed around the head of a gray-haired man, on several other wrists. They weren’t all in the form of bracelets. Some were necklaces. One was an anklet.
The bound ones weren’t smiling, as the others were. All of them had pale blue eyes that were almost silver. And the resemblance didn’t end there. Though none had hair or skin of quite the same shade, they all looked similar to the degree that cousins looked similar. Smooth-faced, androgynous, ageless.
None of them were human.
Elise gripped the railing. “Angels,” she said, her voice so soft she thought Thom wouldn’t hear.
Fingers grazed the back of her neck. “Look closer.”
It was like a fog lifted from her mind. She could suddenly sense them the same way she sensed demons, and what was more, she could see them. Ghostly stubs glowed at their scapulas. Their wings had been severed, and someone was hiding it. They were enslaved.
“Now you know why I brought you to this party. You had to see—and be seen. Mr. Black will know the sword has come into play.”
Adrenaline thrilled through her. “He’s not the only one who will know. Damn it, Thom, you never should have brought me here.”
Even though she whispered, her voice caught the attention of an angel. Recognition sparked between them.
One by one, the slaves fell silent, and a dozen pairs of eyes fixed on her.
Their lips moved in unison to mouth a single word with three syllables. She didn’t hear them, but she knew what word it was, and what it meant.
“This was a mistake,” Elise said.
“A calculated risk.” His hand curled around
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