But he was willing to follow any order, no matter how outrageous, and more importantly, he possessed an intimate knowledge of the caves where the previous Anasso had lived.
Caves that were now occupied by the leaders of the demon world, the Commission.
“You truly are evil, Benson,” the imp murmured, crossing the Aubusson carpet.
Anthony adjusted his cuffs.
The imp had no idea just how evil he could be.
Not yet.
“I don’t recall inviting you to my office, imp.”
Wearing nothing more than a pair of faded jeans that emphasized his smooth, muscular chest, Keeley halted next to the wing chair.
“We have a problem.”
Anthony frowned. “The prisoners?” he demanded, referring to the elder druids who refused to accept his vision for the future as well as the two interfering fairies.
His first thought had been to destroy them. A dead enemy was the best enemy. But he hated to toss away such a valuable resource.
It would be a sin to waste such potent blood.
So instead of burning them at the stake, he’d locked them in a Labyrinth spell that kept them safely imprisoned.
Keeley shook his head. “The spell still holds them.”
“Then what has happened?”
“A friend from America sent me this.”
The imp held out his phone to reveal a photo of a slender man with a long mane of hair that glistened like rubies even in the grainy image.
“A fairy?”
“A Chatri.”
Anthony hissed in shock. It wasn’t often anyone mentioned the pure-blooded ancients who were the ultimate rulers of the fey. They were written about in the secret druid legends, of course, along with dire warnings never to attract their attention.
It was said that an angry Chatri could kill with just the power of his light . . . whatever the hell that meant.
Anthony didn’t know, and didn’t want to find out.
“Impossible,” he growled.
“Unexpected, but clearly not impossible,” the imp drawled.
Anthony frowned. He didn’t like sarcasm. It was the sign of a lazy mind.
On the other hand, he did like using his druid skills to punish those people who were stupid enough to annoy him. He liked it a lot.
Smiling, he ran his thumb over the heavy silver ring that circled his index finger.
A symbol of his authority that made the imp pale.
Satisfied, Anthony returned his attention to the image of the fairy.
“Who is he?”