Of course Belial would ring Kope to collect her. I stare at the wall and shake my head.
We leave soon after that, sliding into our coats and winding scarves about our necks. My body is heavy as we take the lift down to Anna’s floor.
Kopano knocks on her door, and she opens it slowly. She smiles hesitantly when she sees it’s us. Nobody but Marna smiles back. Anna looks fit in a pair of black trousers with black heels and a puffy gray coat. Her hair is down and she’s exuding such a sweetness I have to look away before she meets my eye.
We leave to walk to the comedy club where the summit will take place—fucking demon humor. The six of us are the only people in Times Square who aren’t laughing and talking, plastered, or nutters. My fists are shoved tightly into my jacket’s pockets, and I cannot unclench them.
I keep Anna in my sight, and each time I feel her eyes on me, soft and warm, I want to close my eyes and savor it. Instead I lock my jaw and let the flavor of hatred roll around on my tongue.
I wonder if Belial has told her the rules about a summit—how Neph are not to speak unless asked a direct question. I wonder if Belial has taught her to lie with confidence when the Dukes question her. I wonder if—holy shit . . . is Anna still a virgin? My father will know. My fists clench tighter.
When we turn down the street where the summit will take place, I fall back to walk beside Anna. My eyes scan the area for immediate dangers. I’ve been listening out for Dukes all day, trying to catch any snatches of conversation that might give clues about what they’re after tonight, but it’s all bollocks. They say nothing of importance, so wrapped up in their own enjoyments.
Being next to Anna soothes me, and I can finally relax my hands and take them from my pockets. I want to look at her, but I’m afraid I will grab her and run.
It’s a cruel fate that Anna showed up at my gig that night last summer. It’s cruel that I opened my heart for the first time in my life to the one person who could so utterly annihilate me with her goodness. It’s a cruel fate that I pushed her away to keep her safe, only to lose her anyhow.
But she does have the hilt—the Sword of Righteousness that the nun gave her. I wonder what kind of damage she could do with it tonight. How many Dukes could she kill before she’s taken down? Does she have it in her?
We’re momentarily halted by a load of people spilling out of a club. Anna’s arm brushes mine, and I feel the back of her hand against my palm, then her pinkie winds around mine, deliberately connecting us while it’s too crowded for anyone to notice.
I am flooded with a blinding sense of joy at this simple contact from Anna—this small gesture that shows I still mean something to her. Recklessness overcomes me, and while the street is too crowded for anyone to notice, I pull Anna by the pinkie and she follows easily. I’m holding my breath, so hungry for this moment I can hardly stand it.
I lead her quickly into a small alcove stairway where we rush down, away from the others. It’s dark and smells of damp earth as I turn her to face me and press my mouth to hers. She doesn’t push me away; she pulls me closer. She meets my fierceness with her own, and together we heat each other in the icy air. Our frozen noses and cheeks thaw. Even the air around us steams with warmth. We cling and taste and breathe each other’s breaths.
This stolen kiss tells me everything I need to know. Anna still wants me. Still cares for me. Still needs me.
We break the kiss and I press my forehead to hers. Our breath clouds around us, too hot for the winter air. I watch her as she touches my face, and I can’t understand how anyone could want to hurt her. I don’t want to live in a world where someone like Anna Whitt is in danger for being who she is.
I would trade places with her if I could. In fact, if Anna is to die tonight, so will I. I won’t let her die alone.
When Ginger orders us up from the stairwell, back to reality, everything is a blur. I take a long draw from the flask, relishing the burn and how it dulls my senses. Is this what it’s like, when you know you’re going to die? I’m a zombie as we make our way down into the comedy club for the summit. A dead man walking.
The six of us sit as far from the Dukes as possible. The Aussie Neph guarding the door doesn’t find the knives hidden in the compartments of my boots. I bend down at our table while everyone’s busy and take them out, sliding them into my pockets. Blake notices, his jaw tightening. He won’t look directly at me, but he’s blinking and I know he wants to ask me what the hell I’m thinking.
I lace my fingers over my abdomen and lean back. When the time comes, I don’t want him involved. I don’t expect anyone to try to save me.
I drink more.
Father takes the stage and I stare without expression as he cordially welcomes the Dukes and Legionnaires and Azael, the personal messenger of Lucifer who might’ve been the spirit circling Anna at that party before Belial showed—still don’t know what that was about. Father welcomes Rahab, the Duke of Pride, to the stage, and I feel the burn of bile and bourbon rising as Rahab reminds all of us Neph of our place in the world.
“Your life is not your own. You were bred to serve us. . . . There is one among you who has been warned, and yet still chooses poorly.”
Has been warned? Was Anna ever warned? I wait for the bomb to drop, but Rahab never even looks toward Anna. He stares toward a middle table full of Neph.
“Gerlinda. Daughter of Kobal.”
Bloody hell. My eyes shoot around the room as it all becomes clear.
It’s not about Anna. They’re after another Neph.