Chapter Eight

“I-I was going to tell you,” Iago murmured upon seeing the hurt on Lindemere’s face. “Just... after.”

Lindemere cocked his head and lifted one dark brow. “After? After what?”

Hearing the confusion in Lindemere’s tone, Iago sighed deeply. “After you fulfilled your end of the bargain. Um, showed me the proof.” Noticing the way the demon’s eyes narrowed and how a muscle ticked in his jaw, Iago winced. “You said that you could prove that the paranormals didn’t just kill those people that my superiors have files on, but I told you. I double check facts.”

Iago pointed at the files he’d practically poured into the leather briefcase. Hopefully, they weren’t too much of a disaster. He didn’t want to be a jerk, but he couldn’t help his disbelief.

“I looked up every one of those people, and the information in those files is correct. According to records, every single one of those men and women are either dead or missing.” Something snagged in Iago’s thoughts. Something he hadn’t considered before. “All the ones missing don’t have any close family or relatives, so no one is pushing for them to be found.”

Is that significant?

Iago didn’t know.

Lindemere sighed, his expression a mixture of disappointment and understanding. “I see. Well, let’s take a look at them, then.”

Rising to his feet, Lindemere held out his hand.

Iago immediately took it, allowing the demon to pull him to his feet. He followed Lindemere out of his office—the demon grabbing the satchel in the process. When they reached his dining room, Lindemere placed the leather case on the table, then took a seat.

After glancing around, Iago perched on a nearby chair. “You said that people are watching my place. You said we should leave. That it’s not safe.” As he watched Lindemere pull the files back out of the satchel, doing his best to keep them in order, Iago asked, “Shouldn’t we be leaving?”

Lindemere glanced his way, his lips curved down, betraying his disappointment. “Change of plans.”

Lifting his hand, Lindemere swept it in an arc around him as he spoke a few words in the harsh, guttural language that Iago had come to realize was the demon’s native tongue. For just an instant, Iago thought he saw heat waves shimmer in the air around them. However, an instant later, they were gone.

“What was that?” Iago couldn’t help but ask.

“A seclusion spell,” Lindemere answered. Then he pointed his finger at a light switch and muttered a single word. Immediately, the switch shifted position, and the dining room light came on. Meeting Iago’s gaze, Lindemere told him, “Even if someone walked in and began searching the place, they wouldn’t see us.”

“Wow!” Iago whispered, staring in shock at Lindemere. What amazing power demons wield! “Can all demons do that?”

“All demons must learn how to cast a glamour spell before they are allowed to cross to the human plane,” Lindemere told him as he pulled one file toward him from the messy stack. “Otherwise, there would be no way for him to hide what he is from humans, and he wouldn’t be able to do his job.”

“What is a demon’s job?” Iago asked, realizing he hadn’t actually asked much about Lindemere and his kind. He’d been too focused on other paranormals, and now watching Lindemere in action, he realized demons had to have a lot of ability to walk the world virtually unnoticed.

Lindemere peered at him, a smirk curving his lips. “It depends on which horseman we’re assigned to upon our creation.” Tapping his chest, he stated, “I am under Death. Demons under Death are sent to collect the souls of humans and paranormals at their time of passing. We take the souls to our master for judgment.” Lindemere tapped the name in the file. “This person is alive and well.” He tipped his head back and appeared to squint at the ceiling. “He’s... living in North Dakota.” Returning his attention to Iago, he added, “Sorry, amina. It’s against the rules for me to say where specifically without due cause... which you do not have.”

Gaping, Iago just stared. It was so long that Lindemere set the file aside and pulled the next one to him. He stared at the name and hummed. Once again, he got that almost vacant expression.

“This lady is in New Jersey.”

After repeating the process a third time—the man had moved to France—and then a fourth—the name in the file was an alias, so Lindemere couldn’t track him—and finally a fifth time—the woman lived in Oregon—Iago finally managed to sputter a few words.

“H-How the hell?” Iago shook his head, staring at Lindemere in wonder. “But how do you know?”

Lindemere smiled at him as he reached over and gripped his shoulder. Lightly he teased his claws along the side of Iago’s neck, causing tingles to dance along his flesh. The skin on Iago’s upper arms goose bumped, and he felt his body heat as his blood flowed south.

Damn! How does just a touch from the demon cause such a reaction?

“I’m a demon, Iago,” Lindemere stated firmly. “In order for a demon to do his job, he must be able to find the person who is dying. Death gives me a name, and I track them.” He shrugged, then tapped the file he’d set aside when he’d told Iago that the name in the file wasn’t accurate. “As long as I know the person’s true name, I can follow them anywhere on this plane.”

“Just... oh my god!” Iago felt an overwhelming surge of fear as a thought struck, and he blurted out, “What the hell would we do if a group of demons decided to wipe us all out?” He shook his head as a tremble worked through him... and not the good kind. “We’d have no defense!”

Lindemere’s brows furrowed, then he barked a laugh as he shook his head.

Iago scowled at him, frustration surging through him. “What’s so funny?”

“You, my prickly, distrusting amina,” Lindemere rumbled, sliding closer to him on the chair. He wrapped his arms around him and, spreading his legs wide, cradled him close. Threading one hand through Iago’s hair, Lindemere tugged lightly to get him to tip his chin up, so their gazes clashed. “That is exactly the attitude which causes paranormals to hide in plain sight. That distrust. That animosity. The idea that everyone stronger is out to get the weaker.” Shaking his head, the demon’s face went from amused to saddened between one heartbeat and the next. “It’s why War’s demons are always so busy. So much animosity, even amongst your own kind.”

Opening his mouth, Iago prepared a scathing retort, but Lindemere pressed his lips to Iago’s, stalling his response. His demon used his own lips to slide and caress Iago’s. He teased and licked his way into Iago’s mouth, mapping him with slow, gentle swipes of his tongue and nips of his teeth.

By the time Lindemere pulled away, Iago’s lungs were screaming for oxygen, but he still didn’t want it to end. His blood sang in his veins, and he trembled in the demon’s hold. He pressed closer, wanting more, but Lindemere backed away a little.

His serious expression caught Iago’s attention, even though the demon’s eyes were filled with warmth.

Right. Touchy subject.

“A group of demons could no more go on a killing spree than a leopard could change its spots.”

Huh?

Disbelief filled Iago. “Why do you say that?”

“Because a demon is created for one purpose and one purpose only... to do their master’s bidding. Going against that nature would kill them. Either he would be killed by the horseman himself or by one of the horseman’s generals,” Lindemere explained, offering a wry smile. “Our entire focus in life is to follow our master’s orders until we have completed our one thousand years of service. At that point, we search for our amina. Once we finish bonding, our top priority is to please that person and keep them safe, happy, and healthy.” Lindemere shrugged. “A bonded demon is a general in the horseman’s army and spends most of his time training younger demons. Occasionally demons fight demons of other horsemen, but those skirmishes are rare. Never in my lifetime has a demon been hunted because he strayed from his purpose.”

Iago rolled that explanation around his mind for a moment. Resting his palms on Lindemere’s chest, he absently rubbed the fingertips of his left hand over the big male’s pectoral. Finally, he lifted his gaze and refocused his attention on Lindemere’s eyes. His breath nearly caught in his throat at the heat he saw simmering there.

Stilling his hand, Iago cleared his throat. Right. Petting might not have been the best way to keep a serious conversation on track. Clearing his throat again, he fought back a blush.

“Have you ever heard of one of the horsemen ordering their demons to attack humans?”

Seeing the flattening of Lindemere’s lips and the way the arousal eased from his eyes, Iago wanted to kick his own butt. Sadly, he wanted the answer to the question, too. After learning that paranormals had existed, he’d figured out just how vulnerable the human race was.

All I want is an even playing field.

Lindemere shook his head, sliding his hand out of Iago’s hair and back to his nape. “No,” he murmured, the one word firm and sure as he massaged the knobs of Iago’s neck. “A horseman’s entire job is to keep balance between humanity, paranormals, and this plane of existence. Without humans, both horsemen and demons would be out of a job, and we would all cease to exist... and that includes the gods.” He scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “No way would they allow that to happen.”

“Gods? What if—”

“Iago, amina, please. Stop.” Lindemere winced, sighing. He rested his forehead against Iago’s, holding his gaze. “All these what ifs you have. All it does is breed fear. You know that. Right?”

Iago opened his mouth to counter that. Just as quickly, he read the concern that was filling Lindemere’s eyes—the tightness around his eyes and the pinch of his lips. Taking a moment, Iago thought about that.

Had he allowed his superiors to play on his fears? Is that why he looked the other way when they asked him to experiment on sentient creatures? Did he willingly allow himself to be filled with such insecurity that the only thoughts to consume him were ways to help humanity fight paranormals?

As Iago thought back over his interactions with not only the directors but Doctor Rubicon and the other lead scientists, he realized that was exactly what had happened. Once he’d been hired, the orientation videos were filled with propaganda. There were reports of shifters’ strength, vampires’ speed and manipulating abilities, and gargoyles’ ferocity. Nothing in there spoke of them being caring beings... only wild, instinct-driven creatures that thought only of themselves.

Unfortunately, any interaction with the paranormals kept in the lab wouldn’t do anything to change that idea. They were prisoners, after all. The cages were small, the experiments painful—brutal even—and none of the beings were there by choice.

Of course they would do everything in their power to attempt escape, including attacking guards or anyone else in their way during their bid for freedom.

Iago hated the realization that he’d been manipulated. He’d been encouraged to believe exactly what the directors wanted, because they wanted access to his brilliant brain. They were using him, and the rest of the staff, by breeding fear into them, so they wouldn’t question what was truly happening.

How did Iago even know the facility’s breakthroughs would help everyone?

That was really what he should be focusing on.

Meeting Lindemere’s quiet, steady gaze, Iago nodded. “You’re right. What that place is doing is wrong. I see that now.” Then he scoffed. “After all, it’s probably more likely that I’d be hit by lightning tomorrow rather than be attacked by some random paranormal, right?”