Page 25 of Spit

I gave him a disarming smile. “I’m just here to find some demons.”

“Ah, yes. Mars and Quinn. Personally, I think they are off on their own adventures. If only one had disappeared, that would be a different matter. But Greed and Envy are often hand in hand.” Arlo nodded knowingly. “Legion invited you for breakfast in the main dining room. He thought you’d like to discuss business over breakfast.”

Arlo led me through the mansion and up the monstrous staircase in the foyer, pointing out sculptures and artwork and explaining their meanings.

I tried to be interested, but my stomach tumbled, and I couldn’t shake my discomfort.

I’d left my old coven behind, and being around, so many witches had brought up too many memories.

“You’re a million miles away.” Arlo slanted a glance my way, his lips pulled into the smile of a man entirely at ease with himself.

My shadow reached forward, but I tightened its reins. “It’s fine. I was meant to be in NOLA doing another job. Mr. Bub pulled me in.”

“What kind of jobs does Beelzebub make you do usually?” Arlo asked as we stopped at the end of the hall.

“A bit of this and that.”

He laughed. “A woman of mystery.”

“Nah. Just a busy one.”

“I see.”

“What kind of place is this?” I asked, gesturing at the pale marble and the golden sconces. “What does Mr. Legion do? What kind of demon is he?”

Arlo clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Legion is a Steward. One of several in the Red City.”

“I have no idea what that means,” I admitted, putting my hands in my pockets.

“You will.” Arlo’s blue eyes sparkled wickedly.

When we reached the dining room, I had no more clues about what kind of demon Ichi Legion was or what circle he belonged to.

Based on the luxury surroundings, I suspected Pride, but almost all demons liked pretty things.

Arlo opened the door for me and allowed me to walk through first. The smell of pancakes, syrup, and bacon was enough to almost make the journey to the Red City worth it.

Almost.

Mr. Legion sat at the table, his back to the door as if he had never had to worry about being ambushed from behind. Demons didn’t need to eat human food as a general rule. They were beings of magic and energy and typically pulled from their surroundings. Mr. Legion held a slice of toast, swiping a knife across the surface as he buttered it.

Arlo and I rounded the table, and I admired the spread. Almost every type of breakfast food from around the globe littered the table. I even recognized a bowl filled with Natto—Japanese fermented soybeans. Their pungent smell betrayed what they were as they sat innocently in front of the demon.

Mr. Legion didn’t look up as we approached. He was too engrossed in his phone, reading emails as he chewed methodically.

I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth; I snatched a plate and began to fill it before I had even chosen a chair and sat down.

Arlo watched as if he was cataloging my every movement. Studying me.

No one spoke until I sat down and cut into my sausages.

“Ms. Boudaire, did you sleep well?” Mr. Legion asked as he picked up his coffee and took a sip.

I debated my answer and how I would explain that I had neutered his entire convoy of witches in their sleep.

I settled for: “I slept fine, thank you.”

“Something on your mind?” Mr. Legion put his cup down and turned his full attention to me. I had forgotten what it felt like, like being in the sights of a rifle.

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