Poison Fruit

His black gaze flicked over me. “Then I look forward to your surprise when you find yourself convinced otherwise. Ms. Brooks, since I’m here, shall we discuss the offer on the table for the Cavannaugh property?”

“I really haven’t any intention of selling.” Amanda sounded uncertain and her features had taken on an unfamiliar vague look.

I kindled my mental shield, spinning it into a disk wide enough to encompass us both. “She really doesn’t.”

“I really don’t,” she repeated in a stronger tone.

“Interesting.” Daniel Dufreyne arched one manscaped eyebrow. Goddammit, why was it that everyone in the eldritch community but me could do that? “Well, then.” He rose. “I’m sorry we’ve wasted each other’s time.”

“That’s it?” I let my shield dwindle. “You’re just giving up? You’re not going to pit your powers of persuasion against me?”

Another smile, this one condescending. “Powers of persuasion? What a quaint term for a modern young lady.”

If my tail hadn’t been tucked on account of the hard desk beneath my butt, it would have been lashing. “You know what I mean.”

“I know the circumstances have changed since the initial offer was made.” Dufreyne addressed Amanda. “And I will tell you this as a courtesy, Ms. Brooks. Eventually, you will want to sell that property, and if you choose not to accept this offer, the next one may not be as generous.”

“Is that a threat?” I asked him, expanding the circumference of my shield to cover Amanda again.

“No, Ms. Johanssen.” He leveled his black gaze at me. “A fact. Ms. Brooks, you have my number. Good day, ladies.”

Swearing under my breath, I grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from Amanda’s desk, sketching out my best approximation of the symbol I’d glimpsed on Dufreyne’s left palm while he let himself out of the office.

“Daisy—” Amanda protested.

“Back in a sec.” I followed Dufreyne into the parking lot. “Hey! I wasn’t done talking to you. What do you mean, circumstances have changed?”

Standing beside a silver Jaguar, he fished out his car keys. “All I’ll say is that according to the rumors I hear, a lot of people have been very busy since the events of Halloween.” His black gaze with dangerous things swimming in it fixed on me and he smiled again, showing his very white teeth. “Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know?”

That foul smell that wasn’t a smell hit me, and the pit of my stomach lurched. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “How can you be? I mean, you did it, didn’t you? Claimed your birthright?” I waved one hand. “And yet—”

Dufreyne leaned close to me, the reek of wrongness that hung about him intensifying. “And yet the Inviolate Wall still stands,” he whispered in a silken tone, his breath hot against my face. “Is that it?”

I held my ground with an effort. “Yes.”

He laughed. It wasn’t a full-on villainous mwah-ha-ha, but it was close. “I don’t know whether to envy you or pity you, Daisy Johanssen. You honestly don’t know what the difference is between us, do you?”

I gritted my teeth. “Well, I can think of a few.”

For a long moment, he just stood there, his gaze boring into mine, the stench of his existence surrounding me. “Your mother was an innocent,” he said at length. “Foolish and ignorant, but innocent.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Oh, it makes all the difference.” This time Dufreyne’s smile was bitter. “Only one of our kind conceived in innocence has the power to breach the Inviolate Wall and destroy the world as we know it. One such as you.” He shook his head. “But you’ll never use it, will you?”

“No,” I said automatically.

“More’s the pity,” he observed. “I hope you appreciate the irony. You, possessed of world-shattering power, can never use it.”

“Why the fuck would I?” I asked. “Why would you? Why would anyone?”

Dufreyne did the eyebrow-raise. “To reign over the resulting chaos?”

Beneath my skirt, I swished my tail back and forth. “Yeah, that’s not really on my bucket list.”

“No, of course not,” he said. “Because you were raised to love and cherish this tiresome world, to live a tiresome mortal life and die a tiresome mortal death.”

I eyed him. “If you’re that bored, maybe you need a hobby.”

“A hobby.” The notion seemed to amuse him. “Yes, thank you for the suggestion. Perhaps when this business is concluded, I’ll take a flower-arranging class.” He beeped his Jaguar unlocked and turned to open the driver’s-side door. “In the meantime, I have a vocation.”

“Wait!” I called out. “Your mother . . . If she wasn’t innocent, what was she?”

He paused, his back to me. “Complicit.”

“I’m sorry.” The words came unbidden.

His shoulders tensed visibly before easing, but the tone of his response gave no indication that my sympathy had struck a nerve. “Don’t be. She was well compensated for it.” He got into his car. “I may not be capable of destroying the world, but I can wield influence over it, and there are those who value my skills.”

“Like who?” I asked him. “Satan’s Planned Parenthood? Whoever’s behind this whole Elysian Fields thing? What do you mean when you say a lot of people have been busy since Halloween?”