The Sixth Demon: Book Four (PAPERBACK)

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ONE

NEVEAH STARED MOROSELY at Nigellus’ bloody heart sitting on the table, and tried to convince herself that her desire to smite a bitch wasn’t very angelic.

It was hard going. In reality, smiting was an extremely angelic impulse. When they weren’t busy inspiring adoration in the lesser races, angels were all about dispensing mayhem with extreme prejudice. Back when she’d been a foot soldier in Heaven’s army, Neveah had never really seen the point of it all—but these days she was starting to come around to the idea.

She and Albigard were safely back in Carajás, at the resort Edward had wrangled for them to use as a hiding place from the invading Fae on Earth. Although Albigard might have taken issue with the word ‘safe,’ given they were sitting on top of the largest deposit of iron ore on the planet. He’d disappeared shortly after their arrival, pale and grumbling—no doubt having retreated to Len Grayson’s bedside to deal with his iron sickness in relative privacy.

The pristine luxury of this high-end retreat hidden in the jungle seemed almost obscene under the circumstances. She was sitting beneath a sun umbrella next to an Olympic-sized swimming pool. Edward looked almost as ill as Albigard had. He sat across the wrought-iron patio table from her, also leveling a fixed stare at the sluggishly beating heart lying between them. He’d fetched a stainless-steel serving tray from the resort’s commercial kitchen, ostensibly to prevent blood from dripping through the lattice of the tabletop and onto the concrete pool deck below.

“Something about this isn’t right,” he said, his voice barely more than a rasping whisper.

Ransley Thorpe, who’d been pacing restlessly along the edge of the pool, halted abruptly. “You don’t say.” The vampire made no attempt to moderate his tone of irony.

Neveah sent him what she hoped was a quelling look.
Zorah Bright stood nearby with her arms crossed tightly across her chest. “Do you think they took the rest of his body to Dhuinne?”

“Almost certainly,” Neveah told her.

“It would be the obvious thing to do,” Edward agreed. He shook his head slowly back and forth, his faded hazel eyes never leaving Nigellus’ heart. “But… why leave this behind?”

Neveah’s all-too-human stomach churned. “Cruelty,” she said softly.

“A message,” Ransley suggested.

“Or a warning,” Zorah said. “‘If we can do this to a powerful demon, just think what we can do to the rest of you.’”

A furrow formed between Edward’s bushy brows, deepening the wrinkles there. “No. It doesn’t make sense. They should have taken his heart as well. Leaving it behind was foolish—and the Fae aren’t fools.”

“Matter of opinion, that,” Rans muttered.

“Foolish in what way?” Neveah asked, dragging her attention away from the ruddy blob of flesh with difficulty.