This current version of his mission fitted well. One woman at a time no longer suited the bounds of his ambition. The world had to learn the truth, his truth, and his thinking had been too small and limited.
“Did you feed them?” He glanced at the barman.
“Of course.” The barman shrugged. “But I don’t know why you spend the money.”
They paused in their stroll and smiled at each other. They both knew why he continued to feed his harem. Subjugation from a shallow shell of a woman was no victory at all.
The true thrill lay in the hope, or more precisely, the obliteration of that hope. It was the curse of humanity—where there is life, there is hope. For as long as he kept these women housed and fed, they would continue to dangle from the gossamer thin thread that they would live through this.
That’s how he liked it. That’s how they both liked it.
He spread his arms and glanced at the barman. “Who’s next?”
“Possibilities.” The barman chuckled and tapped his chin. “So many delightful possibilities.”
“Her?” He pointed to a locked door to his left. Sixteen, beloved daughter and sister, captured on her way back from school.
The barman screwed up his nose. “More of an appetizer.”
He strode three doors down. “Her?”
“Her.” The barman nodded and grinned.
Thirty-four, single, detective-sergeant in the Metropolitan police, and so vocal he’d begun to long for her turn. He selected a key from the chain around his belt. “Her.”
The barman threw back his head and laughed. “And let our mission burn away the superfluous.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bianca chose not to question how they left a Toronto hotel at ten thirty in the morning, she closed her eyes for a quick nap, and woke up pulling into the parking lot of Clayton’s general store. The dashboard clock told her she’d been napping for twenty minutes, and they’d traveled 360 kilometers.
Lucifer was behind the wheel and still exuding a scary amount of hell prince fuckoffery. He glanced at her, eyes solid black, and she found that oddly sexy. Maybe that made her the strange one.
“Tell me where to go,” he said.
“Or I could drive?” She prayed like hell he wasn’t going to take offense and get even angrier.
Actual smoke came out of his nose, and he growled.
And that was enough to snap her out of her awestruck thrall. “Ew!”
“What?” He blinked, and his eyes returned to normal.
“Your nose.” She shuddered. “God, I don’t even want to think about what else is coming out of your nose with the smoke.”
Aaand his eyes went scary again. “God has naught to do with this.”
“And you can stop that as well.” Bianca jabbed her fore and middle fingers at his eyes. There was only so much cowering she had in her. “It freaks me out.”
“Bianca,” he rasped like the creature from the crypt in some cheap horror movie.
“Don’t Bianca me.” She shoved open her car door. “You’re the one going all tomb voice and abyss eyes on me.” She stomped around to the other side of the car and yanked the door open. “And those time warpy things you do are going to make me blow chunks.” She waved an imperious hand at him. “Out you get.”
He stared at her. “Words fail me.”
“Well, that would be a first.” She repeated her out-you-get hand wave. “You can think about what you’re going to say as I drive.”
Amazingly, he did climb out. He towered over her, giving her more knee weakening eye action, and then strolled around the car and climbed into the passenger seat.
She had to adjust the seat to accommodate her shorter legs.
“Tomb voice?” He shook his head. “Abyss eyes?”
“What would you call them?” She pulled back onto the road. “You’re the one doing them.”
Christen lived in a newer townhome development on the outside of Clayton. Bloody developments were popping up all over the place. No piece of land was safe it seemed from some zealous developer with a vision for how your life should look.
Lucifer looked around him at the neat two-story homes on either side of the road. “Where are we?”
“I thought we’d start our search at Christen’s place.” She slowed down to turn into Christen’s drive. Stupid fucker still had his Christmas lights up. Bianca loved Christmas lights, but there was a time to display them, and late summer wasn’t it. “If we get no luck here, we can try Carmen.”
Carmen opened the door to their knock, thus killing two birds with one very unwelcome stone.
“Bianca?” She blinked, and then her face crumpled, and she wept. “Bee.”
Taking care of Carmen was second nature, and Bianca enfolded her in a hug. “Hey sweetie, not doing so good?”
“He’s g…gone.” Carmen sobbed. “We went to bed, and when I woke up, he was gone.”
“Why do all the houses look the same?” Lucifer asked from behind them.
She didn’t have time to deal with him and Carmen. Although he had a point. Why did developers insist on cramming people into little carbon copy boxes? “I’m so sorry.” Bianca stroked Carmen’s back. “Let’s go inside.”
“Smashing idea,” Lucifer drawled.
She might smash his face if he didn’t button it. Bianca took a deep breath. She wasn’t really annoyed with Lucifer. Well, no more annoyed than usual. Finding Carmen here was a shock. She’d had no idea Christen and Carmen had progressed to the point where her sister stayed over. Now was not the time for those questions, however, and she led her sister into the open plan lounge to the right of the front door.
Lucifer loomed behind them, his impatience a palpable cloud at her back. She sincerely hoped he wasn’t doing that icky smoke out his nose thing again.
Her baby sister needed her, and Bianca maneuvered Carmen to Christen’s huge faux leather sofa and sat beside her. “Why don’t we sit here, and you can tell me what happened?”
The sofa ate up most of the space in the room. Judging by the other bits and pieces of Carmen’s crammed around the sofa, things had progressed further than the odd sleepover. A laundry basket of Christen and Carmen’s clothing sat on the chrome and glass coffee table. Carmen’s WiFi speaker was fighting for space on the mantel beside Christen’s oversize TV.
Scowling, Lucifer dropped into an armchair Bianca had last seen in the flat Carmen shared with an old school friend. Between the table, the armchair, and the giant sofa, he had his knees almost up around his ears.
Bianca would love to snap a quick picture, but Carmen was looking at her with a splotchy tear-stained face. “It’s not true what Patty said.”
