Page 18 of Bottoms Up
“The Senatus has…options,” the Prince said, lazy and dangerous. “A few mythologicals scheduled for auction. Nasty little bastards with sharp teeth, bad attitudes, and poor decision-making skills. The kind who make excellent slaves in Hell once properly broken and trained.” A shrug. “Or pets, should they have no useful skills.”
“One high-value creature and eleven mundane,” Jupiter said. “A dozen souls.”
Xaephan’s eyes flicked to him. “For what?”
“Some promises from you and your boss,” Nathan said. “You walk away. No contact with Silver for the next one hundred forty-four years — no emissaries, no loopholes, no visits in dreams.”
“And if I don’t agree?”
Jupiter’s voice turned to granite. “Then your son dies a painful death, for starters.” He stepped to the table, unfurled a thick parchment across it. “In exchange for your non-interference with Silver for the next one hundred and forty-four years, and acknowledgment of the torc’s destruction, you will receive the aforementioned dozen beings from the Senatus’ containment vaults — seven wolves, a bobcat, a buffalo, two bears, and a basilisk.”
The room went still while Xaephan considered the offer.
“Creatures slated for auction,” Xaephan said at last.
“They are,” Kirsten confirmed.
His gaze cut to her, then back to Jupiter. “There’s a phoenix. Add it. And the two strapping eagles. Make it fifteen.”
“The phoenix and eagles won’t survive Hell,” Kirsten said, and then gave a tiny shake of her head. “One of the eagles rapeda young deer shifter — he can go, but I won’t send beings into madness if their crimes don’t warrant it.”
“Such a softy,” Xaephan’s voice was velvet and venom, equal parts amusement and derision. “You’d save them and put your friend at risk?”
“Silver would be livid if she found out I sent two people into madness when their offenses don’t justify it.”
Fire flared in his eyes for an instant before vanishing, replaced by charm. “The Concilio has a hydra in their dungeons, about to go on the auction block. Add it, along with the eagle you agreed to.”
Kirsten and Nathan couldn’t promise anything from the Concilio dungeons. The room was silent. Everyone was still. Even the air stopped moving.
The hush stretched for minutes, until Jupiter finally said, “We can make that happen, but we need guarantees you won’t break the contract.”
“My word will have to do,” said Xaephan.
“How about this,” Nathan said, “if you break the contract, Killian dies a painful death, and your boss locks you in his innermost dungeon for twenty-one years. That’s the limit your office can survive unattended, correct?”
“One more thing,” Kirsten said. “Sweetcheeks here will owe one favor to whoever Xaephan trespasses against, should his underling step out of line.”
The Prince of Hell gave her a conspiratorial wink and shook his head. “Sure, why not. I’ll have his ass for twenty-one years, a small price to pay for having the Lord of Lust at my beck and call for a couple of decades.” He looked at Xaephan. “Go against me in this, show your ass by flaunting the rules, and you’ll have a hell of a time in the depths of my dungeon. Twenty-one years. Inner circle. No conjugal visits.”
Xaephan blinked, uncharacteristically rattled. “You’d put yourself in debt?”
The Prince of Hell drummed his fingers against the ornate armrest, his voice suddenly low and deep, lacking the humor and charisma of earlier. “We get along because we stick to our own sections of Hell, but the next time I’m dragged to amediationbecause you can’t follow the fucking rules, you may find yourself in my dungeon before the damned thing even starts, and you’ll arrive at the tribunal in chains of hellfire.”
Xaephan’s hands curled into fists.
And then, slowly, he smiled. “One hundred forty-four years,” he said, voice silky. “And what if she comes to me?”
“Then it’s her choice,” Jupiter said. “But if you so much as shadow her dreams before that…”
“Chains,” the Prince purred. “Steel or hellfire. Dealer’s choice.”
Xaephan stepped back, tilted his head, and nodded.
“I accept.”
Jupiter retrieved a heavy document from thin air, tan parchment with gold writing. Xaephan grew a claw on his thumb, pressed it into the tip of his pointer finger, and signed his name in blood. The Prince of Darkness followed, with Jupiter last, as witness.
Xaephan turned to Kirsten. “Someday, Chère. You are destined to be mine — just like your little pet hermaphrodite.”
