When Darkness Comes (Guardians of Eternity #1)(61)
Author: Alexandra Ivy

Abby was torn between disbelief and amusement. This was no mischievous sprite dancing about a garden or playing naughty tricks on the unwary. Still, there was something bizarrely fascinating about Troy, Prince of Imps.

There was no amusement in Dante. He was annoyed, pure and simple.

"This will only take a few moments." Dante pulled his watch off his wrist and held it out so the gold could glitter in the streetlight.

The imp’s nose actually seemed to twitch as he leaned forward to study the expensive watch.

At last he straightened and waved a large hand toward the nearby alley.

"Go around back. There’s a door that leads to the private rooms."

He disappeared as easily as he had appeared, but Abby had no opportunity to appreciate the startling trick as Dante gathered her hand and pulled her through the shadows to the back of the building.

"So what’s with imps?" she demanded.

He gave a snort of distaste. ‘They’re flighty, unreliable creatures who delight in pleasures of the flesh and, of course, creating chaos."

"And this one runs a coffeehouse?"

He shrugged. "Imps can pass as human when they want and are astonishingly very good at business."

"And we’re here because… ?"

"Any demons in the neighborhood will gather here to share information."

Abby shuddered. Good Lord, the demons had infiltrated the high-rent suburbs? What next? The White House?

Oh no. Don’t even think about it, Abby, she sternly told herself.

"Dante, do you think it’s entirely wise to spend any more time with demons while they consider me some sort of Holy Grail?"

"There are no other demons inside," he assured her. "I merely want to speak with the imp. He will have heard any rumors floating about."

‘You’re saying the demons come here to drink coffee and gossip?"

"That’s one way to put it. If there are witches in the area, they will be keeping an eye on them." He halted to push open the door. He paused a moment to carefully scan the room before pulling her over the threshold and closing the door.

With a flick of his hand, the muted lights glowed to life and Abby gave a strangled gasp.

"Wow," she breathed, her gaze skimming over the vast room. She had never seen so much red velvet and lacquer gathered in one place.

Clearly demons had a taste for the lush and opulent.

Touching her arm, Dante flashed a warning frown. "Don’t touch anything."

"Why?"

"Imps tend to have a few of their objects enchanted. One touch and you will find yourself compelled to return to this coffee shop over and over."

She wrinkled her nose. "No wonder they’re such good businessmen."

"It doesn’t hurt."

Less than a beat passed before Troy sashayed into the room, imperiously holding his hand out. Dante obligingly dropped his watch into the open palm, and the imp held it up to inspect it with an expert eye.

"Let me see. Gold… real. Diamonds… real. A small scratch on the crystal." He pursed his lips and dropped the watch into the pocket of his shirt. "I can give you half an hour. Will you have a seat? Some coffee?"

Dante gave Abby’s arm a warning squeeze before he was offering a smooth shake of his head.

"Nothing, thank you. This won’t take long."

Troy tossed back his fiery mane of hair. "What can I do for you?"

"We’re looking for witches."

The emerald gaze shifted to Abby. "Ah. You desire a potion or perhaps a hex? I have a friend who I promise will not disappoint."

Dante answered, "These witches will be living in a coven, and they won’t dabble in potions. They have power. A great deal of power."

The too-pretty features abruptly pinched into an expression of distaste. "Oh… those witches."

Dante took a step forward. ‘You know of them?"

"They arrived a few days ago. The worth of real estate has been plummeting ever since."

Abby blinked in confusion. "Real estate?"

"The demons are uneasy. These witches are not like others. They do not worship the beauty and glory of Mother Earth. They call their powers from the blood sacrifice. Already there have been several Sespi sprites who have simply disappeared."

Blood sacrifice? Abby bit her lower lip. That didn’t sound good.

In fact, she was becoming more and more convinced that seeking out these witches was a very bad idea.

If Dante was shocked, he didn’t show it. His alabaster face might have been carved from marble.

"What do you know of them?" he demanded.

"Their house is the large Victorian monstrosity at the end of Iris Avenue."

"How many?"

"Ten."

"Is the house guarded?"

The imp grimaced. "Well guarded. They have a tame Shalott that protects the grounds."

‘Yeah, we’ve met," Abby muttered.

Dante took a moment to consider. "Any binding spells?"

"Not that anyone has detected."

"They must be conserving their strength," he murmured.

Troy moved forward, a smile on his lips and a wicked glint in his eyes as he lightly touched Dante’s hair. "I do hope they are on your dinner plans, beautiful. They are beginning to affect business."

Dante smiled coldly. ‘Tor now I just want to speak with them."

"Pity." The imp heaved a dramatic sigh and moved toward Abby. He stroked her hair as he did Dante’s. Then slowly he bent forward to sniff at her neck. Abby forced herself to remain still. The Prince of Imps seemed harmless, but he was large enough to crush her with one hand. "What is that smell? There is something within you…"

"That’s all we needed." With a smooth motion, Dante was stepping between Abby and the imp, his entire body humming with danger. "Thank you for your time."

The emerald eyes narrowed, but with a sardonic smile the imp was performing a deep bow.

"The pleasure was all mine." He glanced over Dante’s shoulder to stab Abby with a knowing smile. "Still, I think it best you not return. My establishment possesses a few minor spells to dampen the more feral tendencies of my customers, but I don’t think anything could halt bloodshed if they caught scent of you, my precious."

"We won’t be back," Dante promised, hustling Abby from the room and into the back alley. Once the door was shut, he peered into the shadows. "Well, we have the information we wanted. Now what the hell do we do with it?"

The cellar was straight off the set of a horror film.

The floor was packed dirt and littered with the droppings of mice and rats. The worn stone walls were damp with a slick layer of mold. Even the air was heavy and filled with a dark sense of menace.