Demon Lost (High Demon #1)(14)
Author: Connie Suttle

"You wouldn’t try, surely."

"No, but I’ve thought about it."

"My father says it’s next to impossible for Reah to trust. He says it was beaten out of her as a child. That f**ker had twenty-six other children, and not one of them stood up for her. Six other wives and not one thought to take in the orphan. Monsters walk in daylight, Gavril Tybus Montegue. Every single day." Lendill tossed his comp-vid onto Gavril’s cluttered desk. Normally it was tidy and neat—now, it was littered with comp-vids.

"Reah trusts the reptanoids."

"She loves them better than anyone else, I think," Lendill sighed.

"And they’ve been going crazy since she disappeared. If I hadn’t sent them to Birimera for a change of scenery and to check on the crops, they might have gone down with the others. I could’ve had them down there, guarding the Strands when they were sprung."

"We couldn’t predict that," Lendill pointed out. He’d lost three of his, Gavril had lost the other three. The Strands were wanted in the Reth Alliance just as much as the Campiaan Alliance. They were now free again and likely plotting revenge somewhere with who knew what sort of criminal element. Lendill figured they’d fled to either Hilfri or Bardelus, and his money was on Bardelus.

"Where should we start looking?" Gavril said, turning toward the wide window behind his desk. It looked over the well-kept grounds of the San Gerxon estate.

"I’m for going to Bardelus. There are six boroughs there that aren’t part of United Bardelus. Each borough is a law unto itself, with Grithis being the worst. Greed, kickbacks, payoffs, bribery, you name it, it’s happening there. Prime territory for the Strands, don’t you think? The child disappearances are just an added worry."

"How many children?"

"Hundreds. At least that’s what my operatives are picking up from the secure transmissions. Could be more—it’s hard to track that sort of thing."

"What’s the population of Grithis?"

"Around seven million. Plenty of people to prey on."

"Could be a slavery ring. Is it mostly girls?"

"Mostly. With a few boys here and there."

"Sex rings, then."

"Could be. That’s the common thought running through the ASD. We’re keeping an eye on it, in case it filters into the Alliance."

"Dee!" Gavril shouted. Dee stood in the doorway in less than a blink.

"I sat on a bench in the park and watched the children this afternoon," Plovel said as he ate a late supper. "Used amps to listen to conversations."

I nodded. Amps were tiny sound enhancers utilized by spies everywhere. You could pick up a conversation from quite a distance. "Hear anything?" I asked.

"A group of little girls saying that a friend heard crying. Of course, that could be rumor. You understand how that sort of thing gets around. The scare factor." Plovel shook his head. "Did you know there used to be a building on that site? One of the mothers told me. It makes sense—the park is the right size for a building there and it lines up with warehouses on either side."

"Honestly, I hadn’t thought that much about it until Harne came in with his story this morning. Now we have ghosts and crying children. This is crazy." I walked away from Plovel’s seat at the counter when I heard Neidles’ footsteps outside the restaurant.

"Reah, how are you?" Neidles seated himself two stools down from Plovel.

"Good," I said. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes. What do we have tonight?" I passed a menu over that listed the day’s specials.

"You made beef in wine sauce?" Neidles lifted an eyebrow, no doubt calculating the cost of the wine in his head.

"It only took four bottles and it was inexpensive," I sighed. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes." I went to put a plate together for him. I served it with rice since potatoes were more expensive than the dried grain. It irked me that Neidles thought constantly of the bottom line instead of the quality of the food served.

"This is good," Neidles shoved food in his mouth. He had the manners of a Harlooni pig. I didn’t let him see when I rolled my eyes.

"Reah, you may leave work early if you’d like to come walking with me," Neidles gave his mouth a perfunctory swipe before grinning at me. I wanted to cringe.

"While that sounds tempting, I have to put the marinade together for tomorrow’s fowl dish," I said. Neidles left shortly after.

"Are we having fowl marinated in something for tomorrow?" Plovel chuckled and pushed his plate over.

"We are now," I muttered.

"Do you mean to tell me that my son is cooking for the Queen of Le-Ath Veronis?" Garek stared at Erland Morphis.

"Yes. I mean to tell you that and yes, your son is cooking for the Queen. My mate." Erland grinned. The grin alone could stop traffic at nearly any intersection.

"Well, at least I know where he is, now. I’m sure he did that because his mother insulted her. The Queen. Your mate." Garek glared at Erland.

"Keetha insulted Lissa?" Erland raised an eyebrow.

"Keetha insults everybody. I’ve learned to accept her criticism as a compliment."

"And what does she say about me?" Erland asked.

"That you’re ugly." Erland laughed so hard he snorted. Garek laughed, too, and slapped Erland on the back.

"Any word on Reah?" Wylend walked in.

"Nothing, love." Erland pulled Wylend’s head to his shoulder. "But we’re still looking."

"I think about Reah every time I make this," Ilvan dipped into his fish stew. Once he’d learned that he and Edan would be working together, they’d formed a truce of some kind, and even had good conversations. Few of those conversations involved their shared past. Ilvan was surprised that Edan was so patient now. Something had changed in his older brother, who now treated fellow employees as equals instead of hired slaves. The head cook, a man called Silmor, seldom shouted at the help—there wasn’t any need for it. Ilvan found that to be a welcome change. And, after a lengthy training day, Ilvan had put Reah’s recipe for fish stew together for the staff.

"This is excellent," Silmor tasted his bowl of chowder. "We could sell this." Ilvan and Edan smiled at one another.

"So, they just tore down the building and put a park here." I surveyed the playground equipment. It needed paint and upkeep, in my opinion. Pipes were rusting and swing seats needed to be replaced.

"Probably hauled dirt in from somewhere," Plovel agreed. Our morning had begun extremely early—the sun was barely up and the spring winds were cold that blew across Grithis. I would have to go back and start the breakfast menu. Neither of my helpers had progressed enough to handle a meal on their own.