Page 39 of Inflamed By an Incubus

One or two of them had spoken of them living in another realm, one that was so dangerous that few non-fae who entered it returned.

That realm was Lucia.

As far as Fenix knew, Lucia was where nymphs and sirens lived, not seelie and unseelie, so he had discounted those rumours and had given up on tracking down Oberon.

Instead, he had switched to hunting for the people who had been responsible for the break-in at Archangel. Two elves and a silver-haired shifter. Asking around in Hell this time had proven more fruitful. Apparently, the elves had a big reputation that also had many people terrified of the things that went bump in the night—things in this case being the two elves themselves.

They were assassins.

Ran the top guild in Hell.

And one of them was a tainted mad bastard.

The jury was out on the other one.

Fenix’s steps slowed as he approached the end of the shopping street, where stores in the Tudor-style buildings all in black were making a fast trade in everything from meat and vegetables to the finest jewellery and rare silks, and weapons.

He had noticed a lot of stores selling weapons.

Which made a dreadful kind of sense as he stared at the imposing three-storey black building that loomed in the square ahead of him, resembling a gothic cathedral with its wings that made it form the shape of a cross. Two towers that soared to five-storeys tall flanked the wing to the right from his angle, the one he imagined was the front of the guild. Their conical tiled roofs pierced the dark sky of Hell, leading his eyes back down to the steeply pitched roof of the main building that formed the third floor. Windows were set into it at intervals, and between them were sharp railings.

Someone call the Addams family because Fenix had just found them their next home.

He slowly, cautiously, stepped out into the square and rounded the building, heading to the right of it, his eyes scanning it as a heavy feeling settled in his gut. Possibly dread.

Whoever had built it had done a good job of striking the right image. It was perfect for a dark guild of assassins, probably inspired this feeling growing inside him in all who looked at it.

This had to be the place.

He reached the main façade of the building and his gaze tracked up to the point where the straight sides changed into a steep angle to form a triangle. He stared at the large circular stained-glass window that occupied a lot of that space and lowered his gaze to the arched doorway below it.

Both of the heavy and ancient-looking wooden doors were open.

It did nothing to make the place look more welcoming.

Fenix swallowed hard and strode forwards, his step confident despite the fear that trickled through him. That fear fell away as he thought about the reason he was here, as he followed the arched entrance hall to a large reception room that was as black as the building was on the outside. These elves could help him reach Evelyn. He needed to have a way to get to her once he was ready and everything was in place.

This time, he would save her.

A huge black-haired male with bright cerulean eyes shoved a door near the right corner of the wall opposite Fenix open and stormed across the polished onyx flagstones towards him. The male clenched his fists so hard his arms bulged, tightening his black T-shirt across his biceps and chest, and Fenix readied himself for a fight when the big male’s glowing blue gaze slid to him.

The shifter bared short fangs at him as the distance between them narrowed down to only a few inches, and then huffed and changed course, heading for the exit instead.

Either the guy was a monumental dick with a bad attitude, or his meeting hadn’t gone well.

Fenix looked towards the door he had entered the reception room through and then around him, and his gaze snagged on the horseshoe of black couches around a monstrosity of a marble fireplace off to his left. Two males lounged there.

“I need to meet with someone,” he hollered and took a step towards them, and froze when he felt the same powerful presence he had that night in Archangel.

His gaze slid to his right, to the door, as two elves exited it, one dressed in form-fitting black armour made up of tiny impenetrable scales, and the other a black knee-length tunic, tight trousers and riding boots.

Both males regarded him with curious violet eyes, but the one with the longer hair, wearing the armour, had a dark edge to his that warned Fenix he wasn’t happy about the intrusion.

The elf growled and bared fangs at him.

“You the boss?” Fenix jerked his chin towards him, part of him hoping that he wasn’t, because the elf looked as if he wanted to gut him rather than help him.

Fenix was oddly familiar with elves looking at him like that after his time in the cells of the Fifth Realm’s castle.

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