Chapter 16
Sylvia
My head was still spinning.
Cliff’s father was here—and more of a monster than I ever could have imagined.
And Cliff… I couldn’t help but regard him in a new light, struggling to come to terms with it.
Drinking in his stern profile, I may as well have been looking at an entirely different person.
He had been so guarded about his past that the fragments he had shared left ample room for interpretation.
Though he’d never confirmed it, I’d always assumed he’d grown up in a similar situation to Jon: family scraping by, accustomed to hand-me-downs and sneaking into movies he couldn’t afford tickets to.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
The same man who was able to sleep on the lumpiest mattress, who got by on take-out and cheap whiskey, who’d sneered at the wealth of this very hotel—he was heir to an empire.
As the conversation continued, I wondered how I could fathom Cliff like this. Not just a hunter, but a disgraced prince. He’d hidden it all from me. Had Jon known? He must have, given that their history stretched back to their teenage years.
It stung, but they must have carried an unspoken agreement far to bury the past behind them.
Perhaps even to protect himself from the judgment of others.
I remembered the motley, ground-down hunters that occupied the Louisiana outpost. Even disowned, if they’d known Cliff’s once-inheritance, they’d have eaten him alive.
“I promise,” Ben said, pleading with Cliff’s searching gaze. “I’m not dangerous. I-I mean, I never wanted to hurt anyone. I just didn’t see another way out.”
“Of course not,” Eros said, turning back to Cliff. “But accidents will continue to happen with impulsive, naive creatures like these untethered. Surely, you’ve seen horrors of your own, with this one around.”
Eros’ cold eyes flitted to me. I bared my teeth in revulsion that he dared to assume he knew me, knew of any fae beyond caging them like animals. I glanced at Cliff to share a dark glare.
Except, he couldn’t quite meet my gaze.
His pause was deafening. I felt like I’d missed a stair in the dark. I had done horrible things with my magic, blood, and ice in my wake. But we all had committed atrocities for the sake of the greater good.
“Cliff,” I murmured, veering closer to his shoulder.
He turned away before I could reach him, dragging a hand over his face.
“Just—give me a minute,” Cliff muttered.
His avoidance hit me like a slap, and I exchanged a glance with Delilah and Ben behind me, embarrassment flooding me. Didn’t I know my own friend? Had Cliff been more disturbed by my abilities than he let on?
No, that was impossible. His distrust for magic had slowly petered out long ago, after I’d saved Jon’s life in the Dottage basement. He’d trained me, helped me get stronger. Why else would he do that—frivolous entertainment? He couldn’t possibly be so cruel.
Delilah growled in frustration. The smell of singed roses hit the air, making me whirl toward her. Her steepled fingers glowed with a menacing amber light. Whatever patience she’d had for a tactical advantage was apparently nulled.
“Enough of this bullshit, you crazy old fuck.” Her velvet voice was now harsh and cold as she surveyed the two guards and Tammy on the other side of the room. “Clear the room now, and you’ll have a head start you don’t deserve.”
She advanced on Eros murderously and aimed her hand toward his throat, sparks dripping from the smoldering light.
Cliff seized her other arm, yanking her back. “Delilah, wait—”
She jerked in his firm grasp, angelic features twisted. “Let. Me. Go. You didn’t take the shot, so I will.”
She shook him off viciously, her dress doing little to restrain her range of movement—like she was born to slaughter people in formalwear.
As Delilah advanced on Eros again, Tammy seized a pistol from a drawer behind her—and I realized she had been standing there strategically the entire time.
She barreled into motion—toward Delilah.
I launched forward in the air in the same instant, whispering a spell to launch a spear of ice at the former hunter.
The spell grazed her shoulder, the remainder of the ice shattering into the mahogany paneling behind her.
Assuming a flawless posture, Tammy steadied the weapon in her grasp and fired.
Delilah staggered, crying out as the shot embedded in her calf. She stumbled, magic flickering out inches from Eros—who had backed himself against the wet bar, fumbling for a weapon somewhere on his own person.
“No!” Ben cried out, panic splitting his voice as he surged toward her.
“Ben, don’t—” Delilah panted, eyes wide. “Don’t give them a reason.”
Cliff crashed to his knees, cradling Delilah in his arms. She hissed, shoving away from him.
“Kill. Him,” she gritted out.
Cliff’s expression crumpled. “It’s not that simple anymore.”
Tammy closed in, the gun leveled at Delilah’s head. Cliff’s arms tensed around Delilah’s shoulders, hope sparking through me when he positioned himself to shield her.
“So, so pretty,” Eros clicked his tongue, exchanging a look with Tammy at length. “I’d hate to see that face wasted, but I don’t take death threats well. Ask anyone.”
“Enough,” Cliff barked, but there was a thread of surrender there, too. “I’ll listen. Just don’t kill her.”
“Cliff, get away from the witch,” Tammy ordered—the bark of a mentor to her pupil, voice dripping with authority.
Eros held up a hand, which startled Tammy. “Fine, fine. Restrain this bitch with the other cargo. We’ll find a use for her eventually.”
One of the other guards approached, producing a zip tie and a strip of cloth.
With a cry of outrage, Ben rushed closer. “Don’t you fucking dare—” He had to be exhausted from his stint of glamour earlier, but he mustered strength for more magic, bursting in simmering light along his hands and arms, casting his face aglow eerily.
Tammy stepped forward to place the gun squarely at Delilah’s temple. “Try it,” she hissed.
Ben swallowed thickly, reducing his spellwork to a faint, surrendering glow.
As one of the guards approached, Delilah suddenly steepled her hands together—one last, frantic attack as she tore from Cliff's arms. Agony made the Latin chants tremble on her tongue, but she pushed through the pain and fired off a spell. The streak of light was aimed in Eros’ direction.
But the spell connected with the guard’s shoulder instead as he raced toward Delilah to stop her.
The wet tear of flesh and the splintering of bone was punctuated by a howl of pain.
The guard dropped at once, writhing and clutching the wound, blood pooling on the floor.
As the spell’s violent light faded, little more than sinew was left attaching his arm to his body.
I covered my mouth with my hand, stifling the urge to retch.
The other guard lunged, scooping up the zip ties and cloth. Gritting his teeth, Cliff wrestled Delilah’s hands down. Her glare roved the room wildly, chest heaving as she ran through her options, which weren’t many.
The guard bound her wrists tightly and strung the cloth across her open mouth so no more spells could escape her lips. Cliff gingerly set her on the floor, hesitant as he withdrew to stand.
“You can do better than this,” Eros said, attention set back on his son, all but ignoring the fallen guard’s quieting gasps of pain as he bled out. “Misplaced loyalty and frailty are all around you like a virus.”
Cliff strode around the sofa to snatch up that expensive whiskey and downed it in one long pull. He inhaled deeply, surveying the room. “I get it. I come back, and I’m another tool in your belt to pull off acquisitions,” Cliff scoffed, bitterness dripping from every syllable.
Eros shrugged tightly. “I won’t bullshit you.
If you weren’t useful, I wouldn’t be standing here.
These very creatures—” He gestured at the glass case housing Zia and Rowan, then me.
“They’re going to an honest-to-god genius who’s on the brink of a formulation that can cure any illness.
Any illness. Imagine a world with no disease.
No pain. Help me save the goddamn world, son. ”
Cliff tapped a finger on the side of his glass, his expression stony. The entire room held its breath, watching him. “If I agreed… I’m not your fucking pawn. I’d want negotiating power. We do things my way, too.”
“What?” I blurted.
“We’ll come to a compromise,” Eros said, his stern features easing slightly. “I want all this to be yours when I’m gone.”
My focus tunneled onto Cliff, and for a moment, I forgot about the gun trained on Delilah and the others in the room with me. I flew to him, hovering before his face, trying to understand. Nothing in his expression made sense.
I took in his tightened jaw, familiar green eyes framed by long lashes, and narrowed in thought. I knew that look, and it made the meager food in my stomach churn.
He was mulling over this madness with a hunter’s focus.
Tears sprang to my eyes, thickening my voice into a thready, pathetic thing.
“Cliff—fucking stars, look at me. We can still get out of this. You don’t have to do this.”
The resignation in his gaze stole my breath. Where was that sparkle of charm I’d seen daily, the shared mischief we so often mirrored? Right now, he looked at me like a child he pitied, like I couldn’t possibly fathom the weight he was grappling with.
“I’m really sorry, kiddo,” he said so softly that I wasn’t sure anyone else could hear. “I think this is the next move. For all of us. Maybe for a better world out there.”
No. This was a nightmare. This wasn’t real.
“Better for who? You’re not making any sense,” I said, each frantic word bleeding into the next.
I reached out a hand, but he held up his own, pushing me away in midair.