Poison Fruit

Now that he was trying to use powers of persuasion on me, the theory seemed a lot more convincing. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Yes, you were.” Dufreyne’s voice took on a new, weird resonance, like his voice was an electric guitar and he’d just stepped on an invisible reverb pedal. It washed over me like a vibrating wave of sound, broke, and receded, leaving me unaffected. He raised one manscaped eyebrow. “Hmm.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “It doesn’t work on me, does it?”

Dufreyne was unperturbed. “Apparently not.”

“Is that how you’re planning to convince the judge to settle in your favor?” I inquired. “Because I’m pretty sure there’s no legal precedent for holding mundane authorities responsible for eldritch transgressions. And you should have done your homework, because unfortunately for you, the nearest courthouse is in Allegan.” I pointed south. “Miles outside of Hel’s sphere of influence. It won’t work there.”

Daniel Dufreyne burst into laughter—laughter filled with cruelty and genuine unfettered mirth. “Is that what you think?” Reaching into his coat, he drew out a silk pocket square and wiped his eyes. “Ah, Daisy! You poor, provincial little thing.” He replaced the pocket square. “You’ve lived your whole life in this town, haven’t you?”

“Not my whole life,” I said defensively.

Abandoning his insouciant pose, Dufreyne drew himself upright to his full height. “I’m a demon’s son,” he hissed in my face, his breath filled with that awful stench of wrongness. “Offspring of a genuine apex faith, not some pathetic remnant of a dwindling pagan god’s twilight years. Do you really think my power is dependent on having a functioning underworld beneath my feet?” He touched his chest. “I carry the underworld inside me, just like you do, cousin.”

I held my ground, trembling with fury. “Does your master Hades know you talk about him that way?”

His nostrils flared. “Hades is not—”

“Hey, there!” Chief Bryant’s gruff voice interrupted. “Dufreyne, is it?” He settled his meaty hands on his duty belt. “Step away from her.”

Dufreyne paused, then took a deliberate step backward. His eyes were black and icy. “We were just talking, officer.”

“Well, keep moving.” The chief jerked his chin at the lawyer. “Or I’ll write you up for disturbing the peace.”

“Oh, but you wouldn’t do that, officer.” Dufreyne skipped the dulcet tone and went straight for reverb. “Would you?”

Chief Bryant frowned. “No. No, I guess I wouldn’t.”

Dufreyne nodded. “Leave us.”

And just like that, Pemkowet’s chief of police, a stalwart, strong-willed man who’d been a father figure to me for almost as long as I could remember, turned and walked back into the station, meek as a lamb.

I felt sick with rage and helplessness. “Why? Why are you doing this? What does Hades want with Pemkowet? Is he declaring war on Hel? And why the fuck are you hell-bent on tormenting me?”

“So many questions!” Daniel Dufreyne steepled his gloved fingers, tapping his lips. “Oh, my. Why do you think you deserve answers?”

“Because this is my town!” I shouted at him, unable to contain my fury. Overhead, a power line whined and a streetlight burst into shards, littering the pavement below.

“Ah, see!” Dufreyne said with satisfaction. “There you go. It’s not that I want to torment you, per se, but there’s just something unspeakably delicious about your impotent rage. And let’s face it,” he added. “The last time we met, you must admit, you were unbearably smug about your innocent and oh-so-loving mother.”

I hadn’t been smug. I’d committed the crime of feeling sorry for him and letting it show. It punctured my anger like a balloon.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “Please, don’t punish Pemkowet for my offense.”

Dufreyne shrugged and shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “Look, I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but this isn’t about you. As far as I’m concerned, the schadenfreude’s a bonus. Everything else is just business. You can’t take it personally.”

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “Yeah, it’s kind of hard not to when you show up on my doorstep to revel in my impotent rage, cousin.”

His black eyes gleamed. “Of course, it doesn’t have to be that way. But you’ll never take that risk, will you?”

Daughter . . .

I shuddered, remembering my nightmare, the vault of heaven cracking open above me. “No.”

“Pity.”

“Does your master Hades know you feel that way?” I asked. “Hankering for Armageddon and all?”

Dufreyne didn’t rise to the bait this time. “I represent an investment on the part of my sponsor,” he said. “Any investment carries a certain amount of risk.” He showed his white teeth in a grin. “So far, I’ve proved worthwhile.”

“Good for you,” I said. “But I’m still wondering what in the hell Hades wants with Pemkowet, because I have it on pretty good authority that no god can maintain two demesnes. Am I wrong?”

“Do you expect me to answer that?” Dufreyne inquired.

“It would be nice,” I said.

He considered it. “All right. I’ll give you one for free. No, Hades isn’t declaring war on Hel. Hades has no interest in Pemkowet.”