Dusk Avenger (Flirting with Monsters #3) - Eva Chase Page 0,108

and only return for the victory party.”

The hellhound shifter’s gaze slid from me to the incubus. “The imp told me about your scheme—and that, miracle of all miracles, you pulled it off. So, you managed to topple the Company without me. Not a bad day’s work.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “You don’t sound all that happy about it.” Was he upset that we hadn’t waited for him to show up before taking action, even though we’d accomplished more than he could have even been hoping?

“Oh, I’m very glad to know that particular thorn is no longer in our side. Ecstatic, even. It just hasn’t had time to sink in. And I’ve had more pressing concerns on my mind.”

“More pressing than bringing down a massive organization dedicated to exterminating all shadowkind?”

“They could have been ignored for a few days without total disaster. This might not.” He glanced around, noting the second wingéd in our midst with only the barest flicker of surprise. “Out. All of you except the mortal. Now.”

Antic squeaked and darted into the shadows. Gloam’s mouth dropped open, but a second later he followed her.

Flint stood, his solemn face reaching new levels of stony grimness that Thorn could only have aspired to. “If there is some concern with—”

“I’m not concerned,” the hellhound shifter growled. “I just want you all out. I assume you know how to follow orders?”

The warrior winced and vanished. Omen swiveled to consider the three remaining shadowkind, who’d drawn closer around me rather than departing.

“What’s going on, Omen?” Ruse asked.

Thorn inclined his head. “I would prefer to remain and hear the news you’ve brought, given the option.”

Omen glared at them. “I wasn’t giving options. When I said ‘all of you except the mortal,’ I meant the three of you as well. Get going.”

“Hey,” I broke in. “You should know by now that I don’t jump just because you say so. If you make them take off, I’m leaving too. Whatever’s going on, they deserve to know.” And I wanted them here, especially when Omen was looking at me like that.

His cool eyes pierced mine and held there. I stared right back at him, all my celebratory elation fading away behind my defiance.

“Fine,” he muttered. “They’ll end up finding out soon enough anyway.” He made a curt gesture. “Disaster, you’ve mentioned a note your parents wrote to you. Would you let me have a look at that?”

Snap peered at him wide-eyed. “Are you going to tell us where you’ve been first?”

“The Highest called me in for a talk I couldn’t refuse,” Omen said flatly. “They weren’t very prompt about their invitation.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “Well?”

“Yeah, of course, I can get it.” I swiveled, slightly dizzy from both the champagne and the sudden change in atmosphere, and hurried over to the bedroom to grab the pearly trinket box.

Had he found out something else about my parents—from the Highest shadowkind or somewhere else on his way back? What could be so urgent about people who were dead? And why wouldn’t he have wanted the other shadowkind hearing about it?

When I returned with the box, Ruse and Snap had sat down on the sofa-bench. Omen was leaning against the table, his face the same stern mask it’d been since he’d arrived. Thorn stepped to flank me as I approached, as if to guard me. I’d have felt better about that if I’d had any idea what he might be guarding me from. I didn’t think even he knew that yet.

Omen snapped open the box’s lid and withdrew the folded notepaper. His mouth twisted into a crooked smile. “As I thought.”

“What?” I demanded, leaning closer and ignoring the heat that rose up between our bodies with our arms nearly touching.

The note looked the same to me as it always had with its few lines about how much my parents had loved me and how sorry they were not to be with me now. But Omen flicked his fingers toward my name scrawled at the top of the page.

“What about that?” I started to ask—and the ink shifted before my eyes. The letters wavered and reformed. My back stiffened, and any other words I might have said died in my throat.

There’d been a glamour on the letter, just like whatever ones Luna had fixed in my memories. She’d altered this piece of my past too. Now Omen had broken it, and the name I’d thought was mine had vanished.

In its place, the curving lines of ink formed

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