Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
~ Princess Blake ~
I step out from the portal, careful to keep behind the cover of the shed. The structure is smaller than it looked from the sky, but it’s enough to keep us hidden. Mason is the last to come through the gateway, and the moment he steps from the circle of flames, the portal closes.
Peering around the edge of the shed, I glimpse five guards who would spot us instantly if we simply stepped out. “All right, you’re up Dante.”
My demon mate grins and holds out his hands. “Come on then, lovelies. Let’s go for a walk. As long as we’re touching, you’ll remain invisible.”
Nate raises a brow. “When he says it like that, it makes me want to refuse.”
Alaric scowls like he feels the same way.
I roll my eyes. “So you have no problems sharing me, but holding hands is where you draw the line?”
“What? You guys are doing the hero walk holding hands, and I’m not even there to see it?!” Shade squawks in my head.
“Don’t make this worse,” I send to her, though I can’t stop my grin. “It’s not a hero walk. It’s an, ‘I don’t want to get spotted before I’ve even made it to the house’ walk.”
Dante wiggles his eyebrows, waiting expectantly, and I take one of his hands.
“For all we know, the clan leaders could all be in there already. Can we please hurry this up?” I tell my mates.
“Only because you wish it, Enchantress,” Alaric grumbles, taking Dante’s other hand.
Prince Callan, Mason, and Nate all take a hand as well until we’re forming a line, and Dante’s magic washes over us. Tingles race over me as we vanish, and I smile.
“We’ll need to walk carefully if we’re to remain undetected. We might be invisible, but they’ll hear it if anyone stumbles,” Dante reminds us.
“Stumbles?” Nate muses. “Cat, remember?”
“Not right now, you aren’t,” I point out. “Come on.” I tug on Dante’s hand, and we all walk out, moving from the cover of the shed.
There’s a second when one of the guards looks our way and I think Dante’s magic might not have worked properly, but the guard looks away just as quickly.
“All right. Easy does it,” Dante instructs.
I brace myself, waiting for us to be terrible at this, but somehow, we form an easy rhythm and we’re at the back of the house in no time. We wait until a guard exits the mansion, and we dart inside before the door closes.
“Fuck,” Nate curses when we enter the hallway to find three more guards in conversation.
They finish what they’re speaking about and head our way.
“Against the walls,” Alaric snaps. “Now.” He pulls me with him, pressing against the wall, and the rest of us follow.
The guard’s glide past us, exiting the back door.
“You sure I can’t go into my beast form, and simply crash the party?” Nate asks.
“I told you, I want to catch Ivar in the act of trying to poison the leaders,” I reply.
“Right. Well, if you change your mind, you let me know,” Nate says.
With the guards gone, the hallway is empty, and we move toward a kitchen bursting with activity. I peer through the open door, where a group of servers are gathering on the left side of the room. “We can’t just walk in there .”
“Wait,” Nate says. “I hear voices. In here.” We move further up the hallway, and Nate tugs us into what looks like a break room. A group of demons finish dressing, and going by their neatly pressed black and white button up outfits, they’re clearly servers here for the party.
“Make sure you don’t spill a drop,” one of the servers says to the others. “Ivar’s made it clear sloppy service will not be tolerated tonight.”
“W-what will happen if we do?” One of the younger-looking servers asks.
The demon who had originally spoken, pins the demon with a stare. “You’d rather not find out,” he warns.
The other demon gulps.
“There are six of them,” Prince Callan points out. “We only need five seeing as Dante’s invisible.”
“Then we’ll just have to hope no one notices there’s a missing server,” I say.
One of the demons stands, impatiently tapping his foot. “We’d better hurry. It’ll be time to serve the starters shortly, and Ivar doesn’t take kindly to tardiness, either.”
“Luckily you won’t have to worry about that now, will ya buddy?” Nate says, though of course, the server can’t hear him.
My shifter mate breaks from our group, winking into sight, and the rest of us follow his lead. Within seconds, the demon servers are all unconscious, and Alaric and Mason are dragging them behind the cover of a table.
We undress the demons quickly, pulling on the uniforms. I’m busy buttoning up my shirt when Alaric steps up behind me, his hand going to my waist. “When the time comes, I need to know you won’t stop me from killing Ivar,” he growls in my ear. His hot breath makes my skin prickle, and I lean back, closing the last bit of distance between us and pressing against him. My body flushes with heat, and he groans as I rub against him, his hand tightening on my waist. “Say it, Enchantress ,” he rumbles.
“As long as we get the information we need out of him, he’s all yours,” I agree, my breaths coming in short rasps. “I hope you make him hurt for what he did to your brother.”
Like it’s all he needed to hear, he growls, gripping my chin and turning my head to the side. His lips slam to mine, and the kiss is hot, heavy, and desperate. Before either of us can get carried away, he breaks the kiss. His nostrils flare, and he keeps his lips a hairsbreadth from mine. “Oh, my mate. How had I ever denied that you were mine?”
My lips quirk up. I’m pretty sure it’s a rhetorical question, but I answer anyway. “That’s easy. You were delusional.”
He chuckles and breathes me in before pressing another kiss to my lips.
“As much as we’d all like a taste of our mate right now, you should all move,” Dante’s voice sounds in my head. “A few more servers just headed to the kitchen, and you don’t want to be late.”
Alaric’s tongue swipes across mine one last time, and he finally pulls back again, releasing me.
I blink rapidly, a little dazed, but when everyone goes for the door, I move with them.
“It’s all clear,” Dante tells us, and we file into the hallway, forming orderly lines and heading for the kitchen.
The moment we’re through the swinging doors, I spot the large group of servers gathered to one side of the room. We try to act natural as we move to stand at the back. A few of the other servers glance our way, but thankfully, no one says anything.
It’s a short while later when a demon in a white chef’s uniform walks over and stands before our group.
“Look at his hip,” Alaric says in my head, and my gaze lowers to where a familiar-looking leather pouch is tied there.
“Shit. He already has the poison,” Nate comments.
The chef purses his lips, staring at us with disdain like we’ve all just stolen from his cookie jar. His eyes travel over me and the others, but he doesn’t even blink.
“Right,” he says sternly, pacing in front of us with his hands clasped behind his back. “Everyone here should know how this goes. We serve all meals within the short periods of time allotted. Anyone who hasn’t delivered their plates on time and completely intact will be severely punished. Not a single drop should be spilled, and not a garnish displaced.” He stops pacing and stares us down. “There are six courses, and each one is as delicate as the one before. Don’t fuck it up.” He turns his head to where numerous plates are all lined up on a long stone bench. “First course!” he bellows.
“Yes, chef!” the servers all shout back, and we hastily join them, mumbling the words as well.
The chef grunts, and the moment he turns, moving to the other side of the kitchen, the servers all start toward the steaming plates. My mates and I copy them, keeping our backs ramrod straight, and each lifting a single plate, and gliding out of the room. The servers form a single line as we move down the hallway, and we maintain a similar distance from each other.
We round the first corner, and Nate’s curse sounds in my head. “The fuckin’ flower fell to the side of the plate.”
“What?” I hiss.
“Aren’t cats supposed to be graceful?” Prince Callan comments.
“You ever seen a cat servin’ hors d’oeurvres?” Nate sends back.
“We need to focus,” Mason says from where he’s walking behind me. “Getting in trouble with the chef should be the least of your worries.”
We turn down another hallway.
“No one’s looking,” Alaric growls. “So pick it up from the plate and fix the dish.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll just…” Nate curses again, and I look in front of me in time to see the flower garnish fall to the floor. Before Nate can reach down, Alaric’s boot lands on it.
“You dropped it,” Alaric says dryly.
“And you fuckin’ stepped on it!” Nate snaps.
I wonder why Dante didn’t simply fix Nate’s dish for him seeing as he’s following beside us somewhere, but then I hear a faint chuckle in my head.
“I love these guys,” my demon mutters.
“I’d love it more if we could get to the party already,” I say, though I can’t suppress my smile.
“Wow, can’t say I’ve ever seen Ivar naked! His cock must be ten inches,” Nate suddenly blurts, leaning closer to the server in front of him. Startled, the server turns his head to the portrait of Ivar on the wall. It’s chest up and there’s not an inch of bare skin except for the demon’s face and neck.
Before the server looks back, Nate’s hand darts around, grabbing the guy’s flower garnish and adding it to the top of his smoked fish.
“Hey wait, have you dropped somethin’?” Nate asks the server, and the demon jolts, staring back at his plate. As he sees the missing garnish, his face pales, and he peers around. Twisting his head back, he spies the trampled flower on the ground. “No, I didn’t…” he mutters, panicked.
Hearing him, the server before him, turns, her eyes widening when she spies the dish he’s carrying. “You’ve spoiled it!” she shrieks. “You must return to the kitchen immediately and have them fix this. Janson won’t be pleased.”
“But I didn’t—” the server mumbles again, and then he lets out a panicked squeak and steps from our line, heading back the way we came.
Dante’s dark chuckle sounds in my head.
“Was that necessary?” Mason asks.
“Well, I wasn’t goin’ to face Janson, now was I? That guy is far too serious,” Nate jokes.
I can’t help but feel a little bad for the server . I’m guessing Janson must be the chef’s name, and considering the pep talk we were just given, I imagine the server is about to cop an earful. Could be worse. He could be eating poison or battling a witch. And speaking of poison…
“Do you think the poison is in this first course?” I ask the others.
There’s a long pause, and I notice Alaric subtly crane his neck, trying to sniff his dish.
“It’s undetectable, remember?” I tell him. “Odorless and tasteless.”
“It’ll be in this dish,” Prince Callan theorizes. “I don’t see why Ivar would waste time holding off for a later course.”
“We won’t know until someone tastes it,” Alaric adds.
In no time at all, another server joins our ranks with a new, perfectly arranged plate of food. I don’t have time to contemplate what Janson has done with the other server, because soon we reach a hidden door and descend down a series of steps. When we reach the landing, we walk out into a main area and head into an adjoining room.
My senses heighten as I take in the dimly lit dining room, and the clan leaders all seated around a large rectangular table with Ivar sitting at the head. Moving in unison with the other servers, we all circle around the table, stopping a short distance from one of the clan leaders.
Ivar beams as he watches us. “And now, my friends, let us eat our first dish,” he says, projecting his voice. “Smoked Dasdende fish.”
On cue, the servers all step forward, and my mates and I copy them. I lean down, carefully placing the plate in front of Scyro from the Zetar clan.
The burly male sniffs me as I move toward him, and he lifts his hand as if he’s about to touch me. “Mmm and are the she-demons on the menu, too, Ivar? I’ve never cared much for fish, but give me a different kind of meal…”
My mates all tense.
“If he dares put one finger on you—” Alaric growls, but before Scyro gets the chance, I move back to my position a couple paces from his chair.
Scyro frowns, clearly not used to being denied, and he lowers his hand. I expect him to protest, but he only lets out a bellowing laugh. Everyone is staring, and I peer at Ivar, wondering if I’ve already ruined our cover. Before I can worry too much, Ivar smiles.
“I regret that the servers aren’t trained to perform those kinds of duties,” Ivar says. “But if you’d like, we can see that you’re well-tended to after our dinner has completed.”
Scyro continues laughing. “Sounds like a deal, demon.”
“I dare say, I don’t think Scyro realizes how close he came to losing a hand,” Dante muses.
“If he tries it again, he’ll lose more than that,” Alaric snarls possessively.
Satisfied that he’s diffused the situation, Ivar addresses the clan leaders. “Please enjoy.”
I’m surprised when Ivar is one of the first to pick up his fork and start eating.
“It’s not in this course,” I point out, annoyed.
I was hoping we could get this over sooner rather than later, but we stand there dutifully with our hands clasped behind us, waiting as the clan leaders eat their meals. As they enjoy the food, Gloria speaks up. “I still don’t understand why you’ve gathered us all here so soon after our last discussion.” She hardly touches her food, and I have to suppress my smile. The she-demon is smart and lives up to her reputation.
Ivar gives her a broad smile. “Well, my dear Gloria, that would be because this is a celebration.”
“A celebration of what?” she asks shrewdly.
The other leaders continue eating, but they peer at Ivar, equally interested in his response.
Ivar’s thin lips stretch wider. “As we speak, a group of assassins are infiltrating the castle and taking care of our little…problem. So it seemed a good time for us to discuss the next steps before we move forward.”
I tense, not sure whether Ivar is speaking the truth or not.
“You’ve alerted the king already,” Dante says to me. “He will be fine. Besides, the witch said she’d send the assassin after Ivar had taken care of the clan leaders.”
“That was before she knew we were listening,” I remind him. I want to believe Dad is safe. There was a time when I’d thought the demon king was near invincible, but that was before he became sick.
A few of the clan leaders look unsettled by Ivar’s news, especially Gloria. I can’t help but wonder if she was hoping Ivar wouldn’t be able to find an assassin to get the job done.
The moment everyone has finished the first course, we move with the servers, collecting the empty plates and returning to the kitchen. By the time we get there, the second course has just finished being prepared, and we’re soon on our way back to the dining room.
“Why would Ivar drag this out?” Mason asks as we move through the hallways, delicately made salads balancing on our plates.
“Ivar loves a good party,” Dante replies. “Perhaps, he’s enjoying entertaining the clan leaders this last time.”
“Or he’s gettin’ cold feet,” Nate says. “Let’s face it. It’s the witches who want all the clan leaders dead. Maybe he’s second-guessing their relationship?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “He’s in too deep now. He knows he must kill them or the witches will likely kill the leaders and him as well. Maybe the first course was to build their trust and ensure everyone eats the next dish?”
“Blake, I have Scarlett and her mates following me through the city,” Shade’s voice breaks into the conversation.
I think of Scarlett’s three possessive mates. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to have them around for the interrogation, but I can’t blame them for wanting to be with their female. “Great job,” I tell Shade. “So you didn’t have any trouble getting them to follow you?”
“Not at all. I mean sure, I don’t think they were happy I interrupted them, but all I had to do was make a bit of noise, and they figured out what I wanted.”
“Okay. Well, when you’re here, have them wait outside. I’ll call for you when we’re ready,” I tell her.
“Roger that,” Shade chirps, and she’s silent again.
I follow the others down the stairs to the dining room and carefully place the salad in front of Gloria this time. After the first incident, Alaric swapped places with me, and I struggle not to grin as Alaric leans uncomfortably close to Scyro, purposely getting into his personal space. The clan leader glares at my assassin, clearly not happy about the swap, but Alaric glowers at him so fiercely that I think he’s too scared to complain.
It’s an hour later when we’re walking back to the room holding plates of a fine dessert with layers of chocolate and white mascarpone cheesecake topped with gold leaf and berries.
“Hold on, so you’re telling me Ivar poisoned the dessert?” Shade shrieks when I lament how good it looks. “What kind of monster is he?”
“One who’s about to regret getting into bed with the witches,” I tell her.
During the past courses, Ivar spun tales of the laws he would change in the realm and how this would benefit all demons, but none more than the influential clan leaders now at his table.
“Ah, the final course,” Ivar says eagerly, rubbing his hands together. “My chef’s specialty cheesecake. My favorite.”
As the clan leaders reach for their spoons, Gloria asks, “You’ve spoken about changing demon law, Ivar, but what about the witches? Rumor has it that Toralyn is currently under attack. Please tell us how you plan to ensure our survival and victory against them.”
Everyone turns their gazes to Ivar, and Scyro is the only one to shove a spoonful of cheesecake into his mouth.
“This is it,” I say to my mates. “Once Scyro is dead, the others will see how Ivar tried to poison them.”
“You should eat,” Ivar insists. “The cheesecake truly is?—”
“You speak about making Seral stronger, but how will your leadership protect us against the witches?” Gloria says, interrupting him. “King Dalton has fought them before, and he’s the reason we’re all still here. What makes you think you can handle the witches any better?”
Ivar gives her a forced smile, his gaze flicking to her dessert before fixing on her face. “Like you said, rumor has it the witches are busy in Toralyn. They’re not our problem right now. The angels will wipe them out.”
He indicates with his hand to the dessert. “Now, if you please.”
“And if they don’t?” Gloria says, making no move to eat her dessert.
“As I discussed, you would all become my trusted advisors, including when it comes time to discuss matters of war,” Ivar snaps, his gaze darting to Scyro and then to Gloria. “But for now, let us enjoy this?—”
Before he can finish, Scyro coughs, spittle flying onto his plate as his face starts to redden.
Gloria’s head jerks to the demon leader from the Zetar clan. “What’s wrong with him?”
Ivar gestures to one of the servers behind him. “Help him!” he snaps. “He’s choking.”
The server hurries over to the clan leader, but when they draw close to Scyro, the demon starts coughing more violently, froth starting to bubble from his mouth. He lifts his hand to his throat as his eyes bulge.
“It’s the dessert!” Gloria shouts, pushing her plate away, and the other clan leaders around the table all follow her lead, placing down their spoons.
“What is this?” Another clan leader yells, jumping to his feet.
“He’s choking and needs assistance,” Ivar says gruffly, shooting to his feet as well. “What do you take me for?”
“You tell us,” Gloria snarls as more green ooze bubbles from Scyro’s mouth.
Scyro coughs, and green spittle sprays onto the table. More of the demons lift to their feet, pushing out their chairs.
Bracing his hands on the table, Scyro lets out a few more ragged coughs. His coughing changes to strange, frantic laughter, and then his laughter abruptly stops when his body turns to ash. The clan leaders stare in shock as his empty clothes crumple to the floor, and his horns land heavily on the table.
The servers start backing away, scurrying from the room.
“You killed him!” Gloria shrieks, pointing at Ivar’s horns. “That’s witch poison!”
In the span of a heartbeat, Ivar’s expression of concern melts away and his lips upturn into a cruel smile.
Gloria’s face pales at his change in attitude, and she turns with the other clan leaders, starting toward the door. Before she can reach it, Ivar’s guards are there, blocking the exit.