Chapter 19
The remains of the excessive spread I had ordered for lunch were left on the kitchen table. Julissa would be by soon enough to clean up, perhaps send the scraps to some orphanage or home for troubled prepubescent demons. Regardless, the leftovers would disappear before Eve and I returned.
I wanted my Little Spade well fed before we took our trip to Blackscale.
Grier had come through on his end and managed to coordinate a visit to the maximum-security prison.
The worst of Superbia’s scum who couldn’t be trusted not to demolish the city and its inhabitants were locked away there, including her idiot brother.
My hand rested on the small of Eve’s back, guiding her into the private elevators outside my penthouse. Once the doors parted, we stepped inside, and I jabbed the button for the roof, prompting the doors to roll closed.
“Where are we going?” Eve asked as she stood beside me.
I tucked my hands into the pockets of my black dress slacks, eyes focused on the digital display of the floor numbers as we made the short journey upward.
Glancing sidelong at her, I kept a neutral expression on my face. “On a small trip.”
Her arms crossed underneath her tits, pushing them up like the visual would persuade me to divulge more information.
Tempting.
So fucking tempting.
Having coordinated her entire wardrobe with Ignatius, the styles I’d chosen to fill her closet almost felt like self-inflicted torture. Ensembles that teased but never flaunted to the point of being obscene.
Perhaps when we returned, I’d test how soundproof these elevators were.
Tear that damn white blouse off her, leave the scraps on the floor.
It wouldn’t take much. The style lacked buttons and wrapped around her body and secured at her waist with a pristine bow.
After ripping the fabric from her upper body, I’d press her ass against every floor number until the entire display was lit up like a winning slot machine where the jackpot was my dick.
I let out a noncommittal grunt, forcing myself to look away as the steel box carrying us to the roof slowed to a halt.
Designer sunglasses were already drawn from the inside pocket of my suit jacket and in place when the doors slid open. Sunlight flooded the car with a rush of heat and an assaulting gust of wind.
Leading the way onto the exposed rooftop, I left it to Eve to follow after me and knew she would, if only to satisfy her curiosity.
The sound of her footsteps on the whitewashed concrete confirmed she followed suit.
My longer stride forced her steps into a rushed cadence in an attempt to keep up, a challenge she faced daily.
Today, however, it was a particular struggle in the black pencil skirt she wore.
The slit up the back permitted some extra mobility, but not enough to let her sprint after me.
Sharp taps of her heels against the rooftop spoke volumes to her irritability. Whether it was from my lack of response to her question or the frustration with her outfit, who knew.
Waiting for our arrival, a sleek, black helicopter sat waiting on the allotted pad. Metal gleamed with the Sevenfold logo proudly displayed, rotors were at a standstill, and the pilot stood by the cabin’s entrance waiting for our arrival.
“In.” I jerked my head towards the open door, holding out a hand to support my Little Spade’s step into the belly of this afternoon’s transport.
Eve paused at the threshold. Her expression fought to land on any one particular sentiment, cycling through confusion, wariness, and reluctant appreciation.
The last was exactly the emotion I had bet on.
Not only did I play to my Little Spade’s well-deserved sense of entitlement, but going to Blackscale via air was the only practical means of getting there.
She jabbed a polished nail against the center of my chest. “As soon as we take off, you’re telling me precisely where you’re taking me.”
I chuckled. “Get in the helicopter, Eve.”
There was a pause between her ineffective glare and her hand slapping down into my outstretched palm. She climbed aboard, ducking slightly as she did. Releasing her after the initial step, I gave a curt nod to the pilot before following my Little Spade onto the bird.
In only a matter of minutes, I got Eve and myself strapped in, secured our headsets, and the pilot started the engines with a thumping whir.
The helicopter lifted into the air, a smooth takeoff into clear skies.
I stretched my legs out, at ease. It was at complete odds with how Eve looked. Her fingers dug into the leather seat, her back as straight as a rod, and she stared straight ahead like she could burn a hole into the hull itself.
Right before her fainting spell out on my balcony, I had discovered there was more to my Little Spade than met the eye. Her powers had taken on a whole new flavor.
She still retained her precognitive abilities, albeit they had expanded beyond glimpses into the immediate future and bridged the gap between my long-range visions and her shorter ones.
More interesting was the taste of me lingering on her, clinging to her identity like cobwebs that never quite got wiped away.
To say that it had left me intrigued would have been the understatement of the millennia.
For sure, Eve was not a Knight of Hell. For her to even have a shadow of my abilities was impossible.
Unless…
“Well?” Eve’s voice cut through the headset, her tone clipped.
I extended an arm behind her along the back of the seat, not that she was sitting back against it. Her ass was on the very edge, lucky to be making contact at all.
“Well, what?”
That earned me a death glare. A cute one.
Her words came out strained through clenched teeth. “Where are we going and how long to get there?”
“Blackscale Prison. ETA roughly thirty-four minutes,” I provided the exact flight time to either put her at ease or torture her. Both allowed me to be her savior.
The leather creaked as her grip bleached her knuckles.
Torture it was.
“If I’d known you were a nervous flier, I’d have found other means of keeping you relaxed.” My boyish charm oozed through the smile I offered her.
Silence stretched between us with just the occasional static crackling inside the headset.
She turned to stare at me, looking for something she wouldn’t find. I’d sat through enough poker games to master the art of deception.
“Are we going there to…” Her question trailed off unfinished.
Something twisted under my ribs, not guilt but perhaps a close cousin.
“No. We’re not bailing your brother out. Not yet anyway,” I let her down as easily as I dared.
As she opened her mouth, I lifted a hand to stop her. “Not yet, Eve.”
Her head quickly turned to look away from me, peering out her window. It didn’t take a genius to know she was hiding her disappointment and frustration.
The helicopter flew across the expanse of desert that appeared endless, like a never-ending blanket of golden crystals.
Blackscale was located over the crest of mountains, the far western range to be exact.
That was the drop-off—an all-consuming canyon that could only be accessed via aerial transport.
Jagged cliff faces ensured that even the most agile paranormal beings could not scale them, and if they tried?
They’d find themselves plunging into an acidic bath that would either kill them slowly or torture them for eternity, depending on what brand of filth they were.
Entry to the compound where Blackscale had been built was nearly as difficult as convincing the walls to let you leave once you were sentenced to your all-inclusive stay.
The escape from Superbia’s most restrictive prison would be a headache larger than a bullet to the skull.
Unless you were Superbia’s favorite Knight of Hell.
The landing pad could hardly classify itself as much more than a fairy-sized spittoon.
It was a glorified stony platform that provided a landing area barely large enough to support a rat, let alone a modern-day chopper.
If you didn’t botch the descent onto the designated area, you could look forward to crossing a suspended footbridge that had seen better days.
I couldn’t tell you the last time I had visited Blackscale, but I could confirm that it hadn’t improved its conditions.
Luckily for us, we successfully landed on the designated platform, but Eve was less than thrilled with the footbridge.
The narrow spikes of her heels got caught up in the divots of the weathered boards that lined the expanse of the suspended walkway.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” she complained under her breath as her foot popped out of the heel stuck in the warped wood. The wind mocked her discomfort by swaying the bridge, adding even more difficulty to getting her foot back in the shoe.
After several more curses at the lack of maintenance, at me for bringing her here, and at the universe for daring to inconvenience her, we arrived at the security checkpoint with all footwear intact.
For all the hindrances in getting to the prison, there wasn’t much in terms of obstacles to get inside. Gaining access was as easy as a whore being paid twice her rate for half the work.
A guard led us down a narrow hall, a massive figure built of muscle and stoicism—with a reptilian tail. Surrounding us, something smelled so rancid it burned one’s nostrils. Seeping from the concrete walls, droplets in a ghastly shade of yellow threatened to torture more than just your eyeballs.
Maintaining a neutral expression on my face despite the foul conditions, I kept a keen eye on my Little Spade’s comfort the entire time. She wasn’t nearly as adept as I was in disguising her disgust at the deplorable conditions of the unforgiving fortress.
I leaned over, lowering my voice for only her to hear. “Focus on the power of your mind’s eye. It will help trigger scent blindness of the current surroundings with that of future environments.”