with silver dragons, it was exotic and strange, yet seemed to suit her in some way that he suspected proper English gowns would not.
He took the seat on the opposite bench next to Poppy, who appeared perfectly at ease. “I’ve heard of such ailments,” he said. “Any small bit of sunlight exposure results in rapid skin burns.”
The smile grew a shade more. “Precisely.”
“Winston,” Poppy said. “This is Lena. She is my lieutenant, for lack of a better word.”
“Madam.” Poppy hadn’t offered a last name, but Win’s upbringing protested against using the woman’s given name.
Lena inclined her head, and the beaded hair sticks that speared her coiffure clattered. “Mr. Lane.” She turned her dark eyes back to Poppy. “What news?”
Poppy informed Lena with clipped tones then leaned back with a small sigh, and for once, she appeared utterly exhausted. Win let his hand fall to the seat, and their pinkies touched.
“Do you know who this Moira Darling could be?” Poppy asked Lena. The tip of her pinky moved against his. The light touch sent a lightning bolt of lust down the pathways of his nerves. Crossing one leg over the other, he watched Lena carefully.
The woman’s slim shoulders swayed gently with the rhythm of the coach as she stared back at Poppy. “No.”
For the life of him, Win could not tell if she was lying. Quite the feat since he ferreted out the best of liars. Save one. Poppy studied Lena as well, but seemed to be satisfied with the answer.
Again Poppy’s little finger stroked him. He stroked back, trailing his pinky along her slimmer one. A shiver of sensation lit over his heated skin. Win cleared his throat. “She stole something from him. We do not know what.”
At this, Lena gave a brittle smile. “Sounds like Isley, having a fit of pique over losing some nonsensical object.”
Win felt along the delicate edge of Poppy’s nail but he paused. “How well do you know Isley?”
Lena did not blink, and in the shadows of the coach, her dark irises glittered like bits of jet. “Enough to know that he always wants something from someone.” Her lashes swept down for a moment before she focused on Poppy. “I shall put out inquiries about this Darling woman.”
Poppy’s hand slipped away as she sat up straight. “Keep it quiet.”
Lena’s thin brows furrowed. “I always do.” Her mouth opened but she hesitated before finally answering. “You well know the dangers of interacting with Isley. It would be my honor to take over this investigation, should you wish it.”
Poppy scowled. “You think that because I am with child, I cannot defend myself?”
Lena shrugged. “Hardly. It was merely a suggestion.”
The look on Poppy’s face made it quite clear what she thought of that, but she answered calmly enough. “This fight is Win’s and mine.” Her hand fell back to the squabs and rested next to his thigh. Win did not take it, but showed his support by facing Lena’s burning gaze unflinchingly.
Apparently satisfied, Lena nodded, then studied Poppy in the ensuing silence. A look passed between them, and Winston understood that Lena wanted to discuss business.
Poppy held the other woman’s gaze. “Report.”
“Isley’s appearance is already stirring up trouble,” Lena said. “We’ve had five murders in the last two days. Lower level demons cutting down humans for fun. They’ve been dealt with, but the Nex are using Isley to incite protests within the underground.”
“The Nex?” Winston looked from Lena to Poppy. “As in the Latin term for slaughter?”
“To signify both the slaughter of ignorant humans and the metaphorical destruction of supernaturals’ basic rights. Pithy, isn’t it?” Poppy’s mouth pinched. “They are a resistance group who seeks to expose supernaturals to the world and are a bloody thorn in the SOS’s side.”
Lena made a sound of annoyance. “They are using Isley as a figurehead because he has escaped from Hell. Not many have done so, and no demon wants to return.” Black humor filled her eyes. “Hell is a most uncomfortable place to be.”
“I gather,” Win muttered. “But are not all demons from Hell?”
“No.” Lena crossed one leg over the other, causing her silk gown to hiss. “Demons are born in another plane of existence. There are many names for this place: Duat, the underworld, the shadowlands,” she lifted a shoulder as if to say names were meaningless, “but it is not hell. It is simply another place. Hell is a prison, designed for those who do evil and seek to bedevil this world.”