The man laughed, blood staining his teeth. “I doubt that.”
Jackson had followed her, and he asked, “How will you get him to talk?”
“Glamour. I need you all to hold him down—just in case.” Although she doubted he’d mount much resistance.
By now Nahum and Harlan had arrived, and without argument, all four pinned the Nephilim down. Estelle crouched beside him, aware of the other dead bodies close by. She hated all this death and destruction. Excitement and treasure hunting was one thing, but this was something else. When this business was over with Belial, she wanted a new direction with Barak. She hoped he would want the same. This was not what her magic was for. For a long time she didn’t know how she wanted to use it, she just knew she needed to use it to its full potential. But now… Well, this wasn’t the way.
Pushing her objections to the back of her mind, she cupped the man’s face in her hands and stared deep into his eyes. The pain he suffered was enormous. She had inflicted that. She took a deep breath and cast her glamour spell, feeling its power roll into the fallen man. Nephilim were generally too strong to succumb, but this man was near death. Nevertheless, he tried to resist.
“Tell me where Jiri is.”
He ground out words through clenched teeth. “Screw you.”
Estelle decided to try another angle before she recast the glamour spell. “Belial’s time is at an end, or should be, and you know it too. Is this really what you wanted when you came here? To be doing his bidding once again? Or did you want true freedom, like these Nephilim have?”
He gave a grim laugh, blood speckling his chin. “Belial does not offer freedom. Death is my only way out.”
“It is now, for you, but not for the others. What if we could work together and defeat him? Would Jiri help?”
“Jiri would never help you.”
“Would the other Nephilim help?”
“And betray our commander? Never.”
Barak’s deep voice rumbled a request. “Forget commanders. Forget rules! Make your own.”
The Nephilim’s eyes flickered with what looked like hope before it vanished again. “It’s not possible.”
“Yes it is, because we did it.”
Nahum nodded, adding his own support. “Yes, we did. We have long lives, too long to live under the yoke of Belial.”
Estelle turned the man’s face so he was staring at her again. “Tell us where Jiri is, or who we can contact who will help us.” She reinforced her glamour spell, and added one to dull his pain, but tried not to confuse him. Regret was the man’s overriding emotion though, and she appealed to that. “Who would help us? I know someone will. I can see it in your eyes.”
“Ozan. There will be a few others too.” He gave the name up easily this time.
Estelle felt Barak flinch in surprise, but she didn’t dare break eye contact with the injured Nephilim now. “Where are you based?”
“Cabo.” His speech slurred as he slipped away, his eyes glazing.
“I need more details! Where is that?” Trying to keep him with her, Estelle asked, “What is your name?”
“Emre.”
“Thank you, Emre. We need a number. A way to contact Ozan.”
But Emre was already dead.
“No!” She groaned, head falling forward with disappointment. “Damn it!”
Harlan however was searching the man’s pockets, and with a cry of triumph, he shouted, “Yes!”
He had found Emre’s phone.
Twenty-Four
Ash opened the door of the rented villa for his brothers and Shadow at two in the morning, taking in their dishevelled appearance, and cuts and bruises. They all stank of smoke.
“Good journey?” he asked, leading them to the small living room.
“Quiet. No one followed us.” Gabe shrugged his jacket off and threw it on the sofa. “We took a circuitous route, just in case.”
“Too bloody circuitous,” Niel complained. He was streaked with sweat and ash. “We could have been here half an hour ago.”
“Oh, stop whining,” Shadow said, shutting the door behind her. “At least we’re safe for a while.”
“I take it,” Ash asked, amused, “that you created a little bit of trouble?”
Gabe snorted. “We created havoc, although we made a clean getaway. At least, I think we did.” Gabe pulled Ash into a hug. “I’m glad to see that you’re okay after your own fight.”
“It was touch and go for a while.” Ash was bare chested, wearing only his jeans that he’d pulled on in a hurry, and the scratches on his arms and back were obvious, as was the graze along his ribs from the crossbolt.
As agreed late the previous afternoon, the group had decided that Ash needed a place to stay after his long drive to find Lamberti’s paperwork, somewhere that Gabe and the others could get to easily if needed. It was obvious that staying in Venice for much longer was not an option. So, prior to leaving the Venetian apartment, Ash had made a short-term rental booking of a villa partway between Palazzuolo sul Senio and Venice, along with a second rental car for his own use. Fortunately, they had managed to secure a big enough place, deep within the countryside and far from neighbours. Not even Romola knew where they were now.
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and brushed his hair back from his face as he headed to the kitchen. He had managed a couple of hours’ sleep, far too tired to examine the paperwork he’d retrieved, and had placed it under his pillow.
“Coffee?” he asked.
