Page 101 of The Death Dealer

“I was surprised when you sent a note to say you’d be coming by.” She cast a telling glance behind him before quickly looking away.

“Mr. Glen,” Damian said smoothly without turning. “Why don’t you come out where I can see you, hmm? I’m not particularly fond of people standing behind me. Especially backstabbers, such as yourself.”

A rapid shuffling of feet announced Melvin’s clumsy charge, and Damian shifted out of the way, implementing a force field. At the same time, he lifted his arm and swept the other man into the wall with a tornadic blast of air. With a death groan, Melvin slunk to the floor.

“Not the greeting I’d hoped for, butdefinitelythe one I expected.” Shifting his ire to Agnes, Damian shook his head. “How did you hope to pull that off?”

Considering his unlimited power and the compassionate man he was raised to be, he found her terrified reaction distasteful. Yet, getting his point across was necessary. If their magical community perceived him as weak, it would invite attacks against his person and, ultimately, his family. He had no desire to have another Morcant situation on his hands.

A crafty expression crossed her face, and she smoothed her hair back toward its bun. The lie forming upon her lips madehisskin itch asheawaited her response.

“It was Mel’s idea,” she finally said. “He never thought things through.”

Like with her daughter, she showed no concern for Melvin’s demise. But then, cold-hearted snakes were only out for themselves, and Agnes Vector was the worst sort of reptile.

“I see.”

And he did.

All of it.

Damian doubted she knew half of what he was capable of. “Why don’t we discuss what I came for?”

“Of course.”

Head held high, she minced toward the open sitting area.

Rather than watch her pathetic attempt at a seductive walk, he studied the layout of her house. The room they entered was an ocean of white, with neutral textured items tossed about. Instead of appearing light and airy, it leaned toward sterile and oppressive.

He despised it.

Not because it wasin direct contrast to the warmth of his home but because it lacked joy. Despite the belief that material objects held no life, they contained trace amounts of an occupant’s energy. If Damian touched a lamp, he would senseimmediatelyif there had been love in this household.

He kept his hands to his sides, preferring not to be subjected to the negative vibes he suspected of coursing through this place on an average day.

Agnes settled on the white velvet sofa and cast him what she assumed was a flirty glance from under her lashes as she patted the seat next to her.

His stomach revolted, and he suppressed a shudder ofrevulsion.

“What did you wish to see me about?” she askedstifflywhen he ignored her overtures to examine the family portrait over the mantle.

If one looked closely, they could see the coldness in their eyes.

“You have a son. Where is he?”

“Away at college.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “He’s worthless. Like his father.”

And the Mother of the Year Award goes to…

“That’s convenient, I suppose,” Damian murmured.

Facing her, he raised a brow. While his back was to her, she’d unfastened the top two buttons of her blouse, exposing a great deal of cleavage.

“To anyone else, you’re not an unattractive woman on the outside, Agnes,” he said witha coolsmile. “But my gifts allow me to see you in a far different light. The darker the soul, the uglier the package. You possess the visage of the devil’s spawn.”

Her jaw dropped in shock, and he tasted sweet satisfaction. But he hadn’t come here to be cruel, merely to get answers.

“Now, enough games.” He held up a hand to stop her from interrupting. “Before you try to convince me otherwise, be aware I already know the answer to whatever I ask. I’m simply testing you.” Cocking his head, he studied her as if she were an alien species. “It’s always interesting when someone tries to lie to me. I like topuzzle outif they truly believe what they’re spouting or seek to convince me they’re blameless.”

---