She rolled her eyes at his perfect logic. “You mean I need to remain with you?”
He stepped closer to her enticing heat, his fingers finding the curve of her cheek.
“Would that be such a terrible thing?”
Her lashes fluttered as she struggled not to respond to his soothing touch. “My life is in California. I have an apartment, a job, people who are depending on me. I can’t just disappear.”
“You won’t have a life if you take on Morgana before you’re ready.” He took another step closer. Because of her powers he couldn’t compel her with his mind, but he had other weapons. His fingers drifted downward, his thumb stroking the fullness of her lower lip. “You’re not a fool, querida. Stay here and accept the help that we are willing to offer you.”
She stared into his eyes for a long, silent moment. Cezar smugly assumed that he had managed to bewitch her with his touch. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman had been speechless beneath the power of his seduction.
Then, a shrewd glitter entered the hazel eyes and she reached up to grasp his teasing fingers in a firm grip.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?”
“Something else?”
“You aren’t trying to protect me out of the goodness of your heart. There’s something you’re not telling me.”
The plain, wooden house that was stuck in the middle of acres of farmland was as different from Avalon as it was possible to be.
The house was old and cramped, with furniture that had long ago grown shabby from use. There were a few cross-stitched pictures on the white walls and gingham curtains on the windows, but nothing could disguise the dampness that was slowly rotting the wood, or the infestation of mice that had taken over the attic. There was also an annoying scent of spearmint that permeated the air, as if the old lady that Morgana had buried in the back garden was addicted to chewing gum.
In fact, the only positive things about the dump were that it was well secluded and far enough from Chicago that Morgana could continue her search without being sensed by others.
Lying on the bed in the upstairs bedroom, Morgana attempted to ignore the heavy dust and damp mold that filled the air. For the moment she was far too weary to improve her surroundings. By the gods, she was too weary to even brush aside the heavy quilt that Modron had spread over her naked body.
Her powers were elemental, not those of the fey, and conjuring a portal that was large enough not only for herself but the old hag as well had drained her completely. It would take days to recover her full strength.
Of course, even with only a portion of her powers, she was still capable of killing most things.
Sipping the warm tea with honey that helped to ease her lingering pain, Morgana watched as Modron shuffled into the room.
The seer’s tufts of hair were matted to her skull and she was wearing one of the shapeless dresses that had belonged to the old woman who had called the farmhouse her own—well, at least until Morgana had drained her pathetic life.
Not even the bath that Morgana had insisted the hag take could make her anything less than disgusting.
“The demon is arriving,” the woman rasped, her blind eyes trained directly on Morgana.
“Good. Bring him to me here.”
Modron raised a gnarled hand. “You are still too weak. You should wait.”
Morgana hissed at the chiding words. The hag had been bitching and moaning since Morgana had summoned the Adar demon.
“I gave you a command, hag,” she snapped. “Bring the hunter to me.”
The seer remained grimly poised in the doorway, her ugly face hard with displeasure.
“We wouldn’t need the Adar if you hadn’t killed the fairy.”
Morgana tossed the mug of tea at the aggravating witch. It splintered against the door as Modron easily sidestepped the missile, her cackling laugh echoing through the room.
Morgana hadn’t been happy when her spell had revealed that Sybil was being held in a hexed room. There was no way to trace her and no way to retrieve her without exposing Morgana to unacceptable risk. There had been no choice but to kill the fairy.
“I told you, you stupid bitch, I couldn’t risk having her reveal my interest in the human.”
“You don’t even know if it was the one you seek who captured Sybil.”
“It doesn’t matter now, does it?”
“Oh aye.” The hag gave a shake of her head, the strands of gray hair floating eerily about her wrinkled face. “And now you have nothing more than a corpse you can’t question and can’t find.”
Morgana settled back against the pillows, refusing to be goaded. She had to regain her strength. Until then she was far too vulnerable.
“I have something better than that. If Sybil was captured by the one who holds my brother’s tainted blood, then her body will lead me straight to where I need to go.” A dull chime sounded through the house, warning that something had crossed the barrier she had placed around the yard. Morgana narrowed her gaze with warning. “Go greet the Adar and keep a decent tongue in your mouth. Otherwise I might just allow the demon to take his price out of your flesh.”
With a grimace Modron turned and made her way down the stairs. An Adar demon demanded the blood of the one who requested its services.
That and a rather large amount of gold.
A handful of minutes passed as Morgana carefully smoothed her expression and lowered the quilt to expose one creamy shoulder and a hint of one breast.
Of all her powers, her exquisite beauty was the most potent.
There was no sound before the Adar appeared in the doorway, his movements so carefully controlled that not even the layers of dust on the wood floors were stirred.
He appeared human at first glance. A small, delicate child with the face of an angel and a curly mop of golden hair. His skin was pale, nearly white, and his slight body was covered in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.
His eyes, however, revealed his heritage. Too large for his urchin face they were slanted and consumed with an inky blackness. There were also the unmistakable fangs that flashed when he offered a faint smile.
“Mistress.”
Morgana lifted a beckoning hand. “Come closer, Adar.”
“No offense, Mistress, but I would rather stay here,” he purred.
“I don’t need to use my hands to kill you.”
He shrugged as he leaned against the doorjamb. “True, but I prefer the view from here.”
The air shimmered with heat. “You play a dangerous game with me.”
His smile widened, revealing his bottom fangs as well. An angel with a serious bite.
“Is there any other kind of game?” he said, his voice far too deep for his delicate form.
“Enough.” Realizing the demon was impervious to her potent sex appeal, Morgana impatiently tugged the quilt higher. His opportunity had passed and it was time for business. “I have need of your services.”
“You know my price?”
“There is very little I do not know, Adar.”
The black eyes studied her with wary suspicion. He sensed a queen wouldn’t be pleased to open her vein for him.
“And you are willing to pay?”
Morgana shrugged. No sense telling him that she had every intention of killing him once he had managed to locate her prey. Demons were a little touchy about such things.
“You would not be here if I was not,” she said smoothly.
He paused a long moment, his fierce desire to taste the blood of a queen warring with his fear that this was some sort of trap.
At last it was his bloodlust that overcame his good sense. The dark eyes flared with need and he offered a deep bow to seal the bargain.
“I will need something of my prey,” he said as he straightened. “Something that carries their scent.”
Morgana pointed to the expensive leather suitcases set in the corner. She had sent Modron to discover where Sybil had stayed during her time in Chicago the moment they had arrived. Retrieving her luggage had been a simple matter.
“Take what you need.”
The demon ripped the bag open, shuffling through the explosion of designer clothes before plucking a silk scarf from the mess. His face was intent as he pressed the scarf to his nose.
“A fairy.”
“She was last seen…”
“That is not necessary.” He dared to interrupt, a small smirk on his lips.
It was fortunate that Morgana’s powers were strained. Otherwise she might have killed him on the spot. Then she would have had the bother of summoning another.
“Do not be overconfident, demon,” she warned, her voice filling the air with a thick heat. “The woman is being held in a room protected by a powerful spell.”
Unaware of how close he had been to death, the Adar headed back toward the door.
“Magic cannot hide her from me.”
“Adar.”
He paused at her commanding tone. “Yes?”
“Track the woman to where she is hidden, but do not try to approach. Once you have the location you will return to me with the information.”
Darkness swirled in his unnerving eyes, as if he were eager to be on the hunt. “I won’t charge you extra for bringing the fairy to you.”