surprised to realize that she had missed him.
One week working together—just one very long, very dark week—and Lincoln had left an imprint that hadn’t faded. Lincoln and his slices of cherry pie for breakfast.
Her hands slid in his grip until their fingers twined. Some tiny warm place inside of her liked that. She decided to blame it on Eve. “I’m not going to turn you away if you want help.”
“You’re the least of the evils left to me.” He gripped her hands tighter. “I’ve remembered some of what she did while she had me. I’m not gonna let those memories torture me—I’m determined to right those wrongs. I’m gonna prove that I’m better than the demon, even if I’ve got demon blood.”
The printer was done. She gathered the papers—a hefty stack that had nearly emptied Summer’s tray—and jammed them into the inner pocket of her jacket.
“Don’t worry, Lincoln,” Elise said, heading for the door. “You have nothing to prove to me.”
Gerard was inspecting the thirtieth century when Elise rejoined him. They had moved this part of the army to the Butchers’ District, close to places an insurgent group had been spotted. The rebels had been attacking supply lines, committing acts of arson, that kind of thing. The thirtieth should have been able to suppress it.
But they hadn’t. Another warehouse had been burned down earlier that week.
It might have been coincidence that Sallosa, daughter of the House of Volac, had failed to protect supplies at the same time that Gremory was leading another centuria to her House, but Elise doubted it.
“What happened to the warehouse? Did Sallosa do it on purpose?” Elise asked when Gerard met her in the lobby of Sallosa’s apartment building. This part of the district resembled Columbia in architectural design; the high rise was brightly colored, with elegant lines and high fencing surrounding the exterior.
“Hard to say,” he said. “The centurion is saying everything I want to hear. They’re patrolling the neighborhood in shifts that last one day on Earth, swapping out teams so they’re always fresh, covering all the right ground.” Gerard showed her the rudimentary map that he had drawn of the district. Sallosa, the centurion, had added lines to indicate patrol routes. It looked comprehensive.
“Then how did we lose another warehouse?” Elise asked.
“That’s the question I can’t seem to get answered.”
She massaged her temples, fighting back a growing headache. She had forced herself to eat food and sleep before going topside to check her email, but ordinary mortal methods of replenishment weren’t enough to hold back her growing hunger. She needed to feed. Really feed.
“We were already low on food for the troops,” Elise said quietly, too quiet for any of Gerard’s guards to hear. He needed an entire squad to watch his back these days. The residents of Dis recognized him now, and he wasn’t popular. “If we lose another one…”
“I know,” Gerard said.
She was tempted to just kill the entire century. Slaughtering them was the likely outcome anyway—Elise was already prepared to believe that Sallosa had been conspiring with Gremory. And that would reduce their need for supplies by a hundred heads.
Except that the House of Volac was one of Dis’s oldest families. Killing Sallosa would mean that Volac would never release the one hundred and seventy-six mortal slaves kenneled on her property. Volac also owned all of the flesh farms in the city—the only way to grow food without slaughtering humans—and her House was critical to Elise’s plan for a murder-free Dis.
If Volac was allied with Belphegor, Elise had bigger problems than a lost warehouse. The whole city might starve.
That meant she couldn’t kill Sallosa. She needed to win her over.
Easier said than done.
“I’ll talk to the centurion. But first…” She gave Gerard the stack of paper that she had printed from Summer’s computer. “I want you
One week working together—just one very long, very dark week—and Lincoln had left an imprint that hadn’t faded. Lincoln and his slices of cherry pie for breakfast.
Her hands slid in his grip until their fingers twined. Some tiny warm place inside of her liked that. She decided to blame it on Eve. “I’m not going to turn you away if you want help.”
“You’re the least of the evils left to me.” He gripped her hands tighter. “I’ve remembered some of what she did while she had me. I’m not gonna let those memories torture me—I’m determined to right those wrongs. I’m gonna prove that I’m better than the demon, even if I’ve got demon blood.”
The printer was done. She gathered the papers—a hefty stack that had nearly emptied Summer’s tray—and jammed them into the inner pocket of her jacket.
“Don’t worry, Lincoln,” Elise said, heading for the door. “You have nothing to prove to me.”
Gerard was inspecting the thirtieth century when Elise rejoined him. They had moved this part of the army to the Butchers’ District, close to places an insurgent group had been spotted. The rebels had been attacking supply lines, committing acts of arson, that kind of thing. The thirtieth should have been able to suppress it.
But they hadn’t. Another warehouse had been burned down earlier that week.
It might have been coincidence that Sallosa, daughter of the House of Volac, had failed to protect supplies at the same time that Gremory was leading another centuria to her House, but Elise doubted it.
“What happened to the warehouse? Did Sallosa do it on purpose?” Elise asked when Gerard met her in the lobby of Sallosa’s apartment building. This part of the district resembled Columbia in architectural design; the high rise was brightly colored, with elegant lines and high fencing surrounding the exterior.
“Hard to say,” he said. “The centurion is saying everything I want to hear. They’re patrolling the neighborhood in shifts that last one day on Earth, swapping out teams so they’re always fresh, covering all the right ground.” Gerard showed her the rudimentary map that he had drawn of the district. Sallosa, the centurion, had added lines to indicate patrol routes. It looked comprehensive.
“Then how did we lose another warehouse?” Elise asked.
“That’s the question I can’t seem to get answered.”
She massaged her temples, fighting back a growing headache. She had forced herself to eat food and sleep before going topside to check her email, but ordinary mortal methods of replenishment weren’t enough to hold back her growing hunger. She needed to feed. Really feed.
“We were already low on food for the troops,” Elise said quietly, too quiet for any of Gerard’s guards to hear. He needed an entire squad to watch his back these days. The residents of Dis recognized him now, and he wasn’t popular. “If we lose another one…”
“I know,” Gerard said.
She was tempted to just kill the entire century. Slaughtering them was the likely outcome anyway—Elise was already prepared to believe that Sallosa had been conspiring with Gremory. And that would reduce their need for supplies by a hundred heads.
Except that the House of Volac was one of Dis’s oldest families. Killing Sallosa would mean that Volac would never release the one hundred and seventy-six mortal slaves kenneled on her property. Volac also owned all of the flesh farms in the city—the only way to grow food without slaughtering humans—and her House was critical to Elise’s plan for a murder-free Dis.
If Volac was allied with Belphegor, Elise had bigger problems than a lost warehouse. The whole city might starve.
That meant she couldn’t kill Sallosa. She needed to win her over.
Easier said than done.
“I’ll talk to the centurion. But first…” She gave Gerard the stack of paper that she had printed from Summer’s computer. “I want you
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