into fists. “Good. I am accusing. What the bloody hell do you want now, Jones?”
Jones chuckled and then sat in the chair placed in front of Poppy’s desk. “I suppose there is no fooling you.”
“I do not believe you’ve really tried.” Win did not want to sit. Nor did he want to stand like a ninny while Jones stared up at him through the eyes of Mr. Smythe. So he sat, planting his feet and keeping his arms loose at his sides so that he might move quickly should the need arise. “What now?”
Jones ignored the question and looked about Poppy’s office with idle ease. It made Win’s skin prickle. Jones did not belong here. Unfortunately, Win did not have a way to get him the hell out. When Jones had finished his perusal, he turned back to Winston. “Did you kill my colonel?”
“Your colonel?” Win’s pulse thudded dully against his neck.
“His soul was mine, thus he was mine.”
The look in Jones’s eyes was telling. By logic, Winston was also his. Win swallowed down his nausea. “I rather thought that you killed the colonel.” Of course, they now knew it had been Lena’s doing. Win had to be careful, and so he glared at Jones with hard accusation. A little deflection could not hurt his cause.
“Kill him?” Jones scoffed. “He was a gift for you. A nice little breadcrumb to help you along the trail.”
Win leaned forward and laced his fingers together. “You know, you could simply tell me what you want. It is an easy thing, really.”
Jones snorted then went back to glancing about Poppy’s office. “Do you know I am one of the SOS’s top criminals, so to speak? They’ve been trying to be rid of me since their inception.” His smile grew tighter. “Which is really rather tedious. They ought to revere me. Gods have tried to destroy me and failed. And yet this ragtag band of do-gooders thinks they can do better.”
“Is that what bothers you about Poppy?” Win settled further into his chair, as if he wasn’t twitching with the need to strike Jones down at that moment. “That she managed to imprison you?” Poppy was the key to this. The thought both gave Win a chill of terror and left him with a small window of hope.
A small flame appeared to flare in each of Jones’s irises. “You know, that is precisely what bothers me about Poppy Ann Ellis Lane.”
“Mmm.” Winston ran his thumb along the edge of his chair arm before looking up. “You give her too much power by seeking this revenge.”
In an instant, the room grew several degrees hotter as Jones growled low in his chest.
Win watched him as one watches a mad dog, waiting for the inevitable strike. “Who are you? Really?”
“Nothing your small human mind could comprehend.” Pale, veiny hands slammed onto the desk top and trembled. “When did you plan to tell me you found Moira Darling?”
Bugger. Win’s pocket watch ticked overloud as they stared each other down. “But you don’t want Moira Darling,” he said finally. “You want what she stole.”
“Come now, Lane, you asked for directness. You know very well that he is my son.”
Winston paused and studied the demon. “You’ve been watching us this whole time.” He didn’t know how Jones managed to be everywhere, but it left Win with a foul taste in his mouth.
“Some things I’d rather not witness,” Jones said with a noise of disgust. “You are a fool to believe that by satisfying your wife’s needs you will make her compliant.” His nostrils flared, and another burst of hot air filled the room. “Elemental witches fuck because they enjoy it, not out of loyalty.”
Win’s hands stayed heavy upon the cold arms of his chair. “Poppy is not Mary Margaret.”
“No,” said Jones, “she’s not.” Without warning, he shot forward and got into Win’s face. “Now tell me, where is my son?”
Win wouldn’t tell him even if Jones were to conjure up a werewolf here and now. “If you’ve been watching, then you ought to know where the boy is.”
Jones bared his teeth in a snarl. His reply was halting and forced. “And you should know that I cannot comprehend his location until a human being willingly presents him to me.”
“How unfortunate,” Win murmured.
Like a snake, Jones struck, catching Winston by the neck. Win scrambled for purchase, his throat locked tight in an agonizing grip. Crimson flooded Jones’s irises. “It appears that you do not take my threat seriously.”
Though Win’s vision had gone