weak smile. As though to say it was all right if he didn’t want to talk about it. That made him feel guilty, though he wasn’t ashamed of what he was—even if a lot of people did consider him a close relation to the devil.
“I’m a warlock,” he muttered.
“What?” Dylan said. “Speak up, we didn’t quite hear that.”
“Piss off,” he growled.
Dylan laughed.
“What is a warlock?” Destiny asked. “Isn’t that another name for a wizard?”
“No.”
Dylan laughed again. “Aw, he’s gone all shy. I don’t think he likes talking about himself. So I’ll fill you in, shall I?”
Destiny rested a hand on his arm. “If you don’t want me to know…”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
She might as well know the worst. At least there weren’t any handy priests around to hand him over to if she decided to try and burn the devil out of him. For his own good, of course. Though he supposed Captain Aaron Sekongo would probably take on the job if she asked him nicely. The thing was, though, he didn’t think Destiny would do anything like that. He wasn’t sure what her thoughts on God and the devil were—though she hadn’t seemed too impressed with the Bible—and he had an idea that religion hadn’t played a huge part in her education. Dr. Yang was a scientist, and science and religion didn’t tend to go hand in hand.
“A warlock,” Dylan said, “is the offspring of a witch or wizard—they’re human with little powers of their own—and a demon.”
“You’re half demon?” she asked.
He forced himself to look at her, reluctant to read her expression. Her eyes were wide, her hand still rested on his arm, but she didn’t look horrified. More intrigued.
“Demons can vary in strength and powers,” Dylan continued, without giving him a chance to answer. “Minor demons have few powers, but then you have an increasing scale going all the way up to the top where you find the seven Princes of Hell, and then well, it’s fair to say that the sky’s the limit. Scary stuff.” He held Milo’s gaze. “Do you know who your father is?”
His mother had handed him to Rico to keep his safe from his father. Demons could be a little unpredictable where unwanted and unasked for offspring were concerned. His mother had played a dangerous game with the demon, she’d been desperate to gain power and get revenge on the people who had killed her sister. And she’d paid the ultimate price. His father had hunted her down and slaughtered her. And Milo would never forgive him.
“I know.”
“And are you going to share?”
Milo blew out his breath. “Malpheas.”
“Really?” Dylan looked at him through narrowed eyes. “You’re kidding?” He let out a laugh, though for once, he didn’t actually sound particularly amused.
Yeah, Milo was kidding. Not. “You’ve met him?”
“Hell, no. I’m not sure anyone has met him and lived to tell the tale. Have you?”
Oh yeah. He’d spent ten long years as a guest in the halls of his father’s castle deep in the Abyss. That was down to fucking Rico. Again for his own good. Why was it all the people who were supposed to care for him made really fucking dubious decisions when it came to that care? His mother had given him into the guardianship of a vampire. Maria had handed him to the Inquisition. And then Rico had delivered him to his father. All for his own good. “We’ve spent some time together. It was…interesting.”
“I bet.”
Actually, without that time, Milo doubted that he would have survived. After the whole Spanish Inquisition thing, his life had gotten pretty crazy. Before that, they’d decided that most of his father’s powers had passed him by. It had been a relief. In fact, the powers had been lying dormant, just waiting for something to awaken them. Nothing like being tied to a stake and set on fire to wake the sleeping demon. He’d been out of control. Angry, heartbroken—he’d loved Maria despite her betrayal—the powers had raged; he’d nearly destroyed Rico, put all their existences at risk. So Rico had made a deal with his father. Ten years of Milo’s life in servitude to the demon in exchange for teaching him control.
It was fair to say that they would never be close—he would always blame his father for the death of his mother and much of Milo’s time and energy had been spent seeking ways to make his father pay. But Malpheas had taught Milo about who and what he was, how to