“Yeah, but a sexy secretary,” J.B. said. He wore an extremely expensive-looking tailored suit under an equally tailored coat, and he’d tucked his glasses away somewhere. His eyes were a brilliant green.
“Okay, enough with the compliments, or lack thereof,” Beezle said. “Let’s get a move on, here.”
“How are we getting there?” I asked J.B. “Portal?”
“Nah. Mom’s sending a car,” he said. “It’ll pick us up in the alley.”
So we tramped down the gangway to the backyard with our luggage, Beezle fluttering behind me. It was kind of amazing that none of our neighbors had ever seen him, especially since we hadn’t exactly been secretive about his presence lately.
We stood in the alley, blowing our breath on our hands and stamping our feet. It felt about ten degrees colder than the day before. At least this time I was properly dressed, with a hat and gloves and scarf in addition to my long wool coat. I noticed some dried mud that I had missed in my hasty cleaning this morning and tried to brush it off with my glove. Nathaniel shook his head at me pityingly.
“This negotiation is doomed before we even begin,” he said.
“Will you stop acting like I’m dressed like a peasant?” I snapped.
“You’re covered in mud.”
“Do you want to be covered in blood?” I said. “Because that can be arranged.”
“Children, children,” J.B. said.
Just then a long black limousine rounded the corner and came toward us.
“Why did we have to get picked up back here?” I asked J.B.
“Because the driver is part troll,” he replied as the limo came to a smooth stop in front of us. “He’s a little conspicuous. Try not to stare.”
Trolls mostly lived in isolated wilderness areas because of their size, which could reach well over twenty feet. Since wilderness areas weren’t generally in my pick-up range I’d never had the opportunity to see one. I’d heard a lot of stories from Agents who’d transferred from rural areas—apparently trolls tended not to cooperate with the Agency very well. I was a little curious about how a troll half-breed had happened. They were so big I didn’t think they would be able to crossbreed with anything humanoid. Then I realized that the breeding process was probably horrible for the non-troll, and decided to stop thinking about such things. They were not conducive to an easy mind, and I was more than a little nervous about this meeting.
Lucifer was counting on me, and aside from the fact that I really didn’t want him upset with me, I wanted to have my debt to him cleared. This job was a repayment for killing his son. Now, his son had done his damndest to kill me several times and was a monster by any calculation, but Lucifer was still bothered by it. I owed him a boon, and this was it. Once I got clear of this, then we were back on an even footing, or as even as one could be with the devil himself.
The driver of the limo got out and came around to open the door for us. I tried to take J.B.’s advice, but it was hard not to stare. The troll was dressed in a typical chauffeur’s outfit—black suit, white shirt, black hat. He was roughly human-sized, about six feet tall with the bulging muscles of a bodybuilder straining the fabric of his suit. All this would not have been in the least notable except that he had the face of a furless boar.
He had a pig’s snout, longish pointed ears with tufts of hair at the end, small cunning eyes, and fangs that jutted over his upper lip. The effect was so disconcerting that it was difficult to look him in the eye as I stepped into the car ahead of J.B. and Nathaniel.
“Ambassador Black,” he said, and his voice was low and growling.
I nodded at him—it seemed like the appropriate thing to do—and then settled myself on one of the plush seats.
J.B. managed to slide in next to me, cutting Nathaniel out so that he was forced to sit on the opposite seat. Nathaniel glared at J.B. as the latter slung a friendly arm around my shoulders. Apparently Nathaniel’s fawning respect for J.B. had evaporated in the face of male territoriality.
J.B. leaned over to whisper in my ear. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you . . .”
“Don’t eat or drink anything while we’re in the court,” I whispered back. “I know. I don’t want to be trapped in the faerie court for the next hundred years. I have enough problems. I packed plenty of snacks.”
“Did you pack enough for you and Beezle? Because I’ve seen the way your gargoyle eats. And don’t speak too freely in front of Tyree—the driver,” he said. “He reports everything right back to my mother.”
“Got it,” I said.
I glanced over at Nathaniel. His face had turned brick red with annoyance. I wanted to tell him that J.B. and I weren’t flirting—it only looked that way. But then I remembered that I didn’t want to marry him anyway. I don’t know why I kept having these concerns for his feelings. I didn’t want to think that Nathaniel might be growing on me, especially when he hadn’t even said anything nice about my outfit.
J.B. kept his arm around my shoulders, but I resisted the urge to sink back and relax. I had too many things to worry about, and most of all I missed Gabriel. He had only been a part of my life for a few months, but nothing seemed right without him. And I hated to think of him being harmed and unable to defend himself.
I looked out the window and let my thoughts drift—Amarantha, Lucifer, the wolves, Samiel, Focalor, Antares. So many players, so many pieces on the chessboard. The question was—was I pawn or player? I wasn’t sure yet. I wasn’t even sure what Lucifer wanted me to negotiate with Amarantha. He’d said he wanted to reestablish relations, but once I did that what else was I supposed to do? I wasn’t privy to Lucifer’s needs and wants, and I wasn’t sure if furthering his agenda was the best thing for the world in any case.