You have nothing to lose by agreeing to her demands, Azriel noted. And time—as well as the space to move—to gain.
But only if she doesn’t throw another wrench in the works. I opened my eyes and stared at Hunter for several seconds. I don’t think I’d ever hated anyone as much as I hated her right then, and it was galling to think that I hadn’t seen what she was—or what she was capable of—from the very first moment our paths had crossed and I’d agreed to work for her. And sure, she hadn’t exactly made it easy for me to refuse, but the truth was, it was my desperate need to avenge my mother’s death that had gotten me into this pickle, nothing else.
“Why,” I asked eventually, keeping my voice as even as I could, “is it necessary for you to have the keys within a week? It’s not like hell’s going anywhere.” Although it would bleed all over Earth—create a new playground for all hell’s nightmares—if we didn’t stop the sorceress from opening the final gate.
“Because I find it necessary to bring forward my own plans,” she answered blithely. “There are certain . . . shall we say, elements . . . within the council that are gathering momentum. I find myself in need of a little something extra to contain the groundswell before it gains too much force.”
Meaning, in other words, that Harry Stanford, Markel, and everyone else involved with the “get rid of Hunter” movement had better start watching their backs very carefully.
“I really don’t think it’s wise to be using hell as some sort of—”
“And I really don’t care what you think,” Hunter snapped, green eyes glittering with both anger and darkness. And perhaps, if I looked closely enough, madness. “You will do as I desire or pay the price.”
“Fine,” I growled, clenching my fists under the desk in an effort not to smash one through her image on the vid-phone’s screen. “You’ll have both keys by the end of the week.”
“Good,” she murmured. “Although there is one additional point I forgot to mention.”
Of course there was, I thought darkly. There was always one more damn point. “And what might that be?”
“The second key. I want it in my hands by eight o’clock tomorrow morning, or people will start dying.”
Chapter 4
My breath caught somewhere in my throat, and for several seconds I couldn’t do anything more than simply stare at her. Horror, disbelief, anger—it all curled through me, and when combined with my already churning stomach, there was no containing it. I lurched out of my chair but didn’t make it any farther than the nearest trash can, where I was thoroughly and totally ill.
Azriel was beside me in an instant, holding back my hair as I lost every single bit of food I’d eaten only hours before, and then some.
“Water,” I croaked eventually, as I wiped a hand across my mouth. “Please.”
Azriel immediately disappeared but was back within seconds, a cup of cool water in his hand. I took it, rinsed my mouth out, then spat into the bin.
“Why, Risa dearest,” Hunter drawled, amusement heavy in her tone, “don’t tell me you’re coming down with something. That would be unfortunate timing indeed.”
Fury hit me; fury that was so deep, so fierce, it just about short-circuited my brain. I reached out, catching Azriel’s fingers, feeling the tremble in them, a physical echo of the emotions surging from his mind to mine.
You have no idea, he growled, how tempting it is right now to go find that woman and cut her into very tiny little pieces.
Which I’m guessing is exactly what she wants, I replied. She’s trying to goad you into an action we’d both regret.
I am well enough aware of that; it’s the reason I still stand here.
Her time will come, Azriel. It has to.
I hope so. But he didn’t look convinced and again I was left with the feeling that the fates had told him far more than he was letting on.
If they let her live, there would be hell to pay.
“It would seem,” I said, squeezing Azriel’s hand a final time before releasing him and moving back to the desk, “that I ate something that
disagreed with me.”
A more logical explanation would have been the fact that I was pregnant, but I wasn’t about to hand Hunter that sort of information. Whether the Cazadors had it was another matter entirely.
“I’m so glad it wasn’t something I said.”
“Hardly,” I murmured. “I mean, it isn’t like we haven’t heard that particular tune before.”
“So true.” Her voice was philosophical, but the darkness and madness in her eyes were oddly sharper. “Which means, of course, that you are well aware I will carry through with my threat.”