Sloan hadn’t been the first to try to buy it from Knox, and he wouldn’t be the last. But he was the only demon who’d tried to recreate it. Sloan had built it in Washington, not far from the lighthouse, and he’d named it the Haunt—how original.
Knox didn’t care about the competition, but he did care that Sloan attempted to coax demons to relocate their businesses from the Underground to the Haunt. That was something they’d learned from Harry, who Knox had planted in Sloan’s lair to keep an eye on things.
It was reasonably common practice for Primes to plant spies in other lairs. Knowledge was power, after all—demons were all about power. In fact, Sloan had planted two spies in Knox’s lair. The dumb assholes believed they were flying under Knox’s radar, and they were blissfully unaware that they were only ever fed false info.
Whenever a Prime discovered a plant, they tended to toss them out of the lair and warn their Prime not to try that shit again. Sometimes they also beat the plant for good measure. They didn’t mutilate and kill them.
Tanner slipped his hands in his pockets. “I wonder how Sloan discovered that Harry was a plant.”
“Can we be sure that that’s why Harry was killed?” asked Levi. “I mean, cutting out his tongue, slicing off his ears, and gouging out his eyes seems something of an overreaction.”
“Yeah, but it fits,” said Tanner. “Seems like a punishment to me. He cut out his tongue for blabbing, removed his ears for eavesdropping, and scooped out his eyes for spying.”
“I don’t think this was just a punishment; I think he was being silenced.” Jaw hard, Knox glanced out of the window that overlooked the deserted beach and choppy water. “Fuck, he didn’t deserve this.”
No, he hadn’t. Harry had been a good guy, and they’d all known him a long time. He hadn’t just been a member of their lair, he’d spent years of his childhood in the same home for orphaned demonic children that Knox, Tanner, Levi, and the other two sentinels had. Knox had long ago bought the place, knocked it down, and then built a luxury hotel over its remains.
Whereas the five of them had stuck together on leaving Ramsbrook House, Harry had gone his own way like many of the others. It hadn’t been until eight years ago that Harry reappeared in their lives and joined their lair.
Tanner inhaled deeply again, filtering through the smells of rust, stale air, and must to focus better on that fake scent, trying to find a way past it to get just a brief hint of the real scent beneath it. But he hit a wall each time.
His hound was having the exact same struggle. It no doubt would have cursed a blue streak if it had the ability to speak.
A person’s inner demon could surface just enough to talk and take control. But hellbeasts, no matter the breed, couldn’t use speech to communicate; they used telepathic images or impressions. Though the entities lacked the ability to talk and had all the instincts of a predatory animal, they were more human in their way of thinking. His hound fully understood exactly what had happened to Harry, and it was mightily pissed off that it couldn’t yet do anything about it.
Tanner gave the sparse room another once-over. “There’s no sign of a struggle.” No blood spatter on the walls, no objects flung around or knocked over. “Harry’s killer must have somehow subdued him while they did this sick shit to him, but he doesn’t have any marks to suggest he was tied down.”
“What are your reaper senses picking up?” Knox asked Levi.
“Harry’s pain and fear are so prominent they’re almost tangible,” said Levi, who could read any left-over emotional vibes from death scenes. “But I can still feel faint echoes of other emotions—ones that didn’t belong to him, which means they belonged to the killer. Given the severity of the mutilation, I would have expected killing rage, battle adrenaline, or even a mild sense of satisfaction. There’s none of that. Just cold determination and an odd sense of righteousness.”
“Harry didn’t fear much,” said Knox.
“He was afraid of whoever killed him.” Levi’s nostrils flared. “What pisses me off is that we can’t confront Sloan over this without admitting that Harry was a plant.”
“We can, however, make our displeasure clear by treating his own plants to some pain.” Knox’s eyes glittered with what could only be described as bloodthirst. “And I don’t mind admitting that I’ll enjoy that.”
Tanner believed him. Knox had a well-earned reputation for being utterly merciless. But then, his breed of demon was a part of the fabric of hell, so he’d hardly be a fluffy bunny. Not many knew what breed of demon the Prime was, and Knox intended to keep it that way.
Tanner’s phone began to ring. He fished it out of his pocket and saw a familiar number flashing on the screen. He felt his jaw harden. He could admit he was somewhat tenacious and often got tunnel vision when he wanted something, but this female hellhound had him beat by a mile.
“I’m guessing that’s Eleanor,” said Levi. “You grind your teeth whenever she calls.”
“She’s not hearing my ‘no.’” Tanner canceled the call and pocketed his phone. “I honestly don’t know how I can make myself clearer.”
“Female hellhounds are persistent creatures,” said Knox. “You know that.”
Tanner did know that, so it didn’t surprise him that she wasn’t initially put-off by his refusal. But it had been three months, and she was still bugging the shit out of him.
“You’re not even in the least bit tempted by her offer?” asked Knox. “You’ve walked this Earth for a long time, Tanner. Most hellhounds your age have fathered at least four children by now. You don’t even have one.”
“It’s not like Eleanor’s asking you for a relationship—she knows that won’t happen,” said Levi. “She’s more interested in your genes. Female hellbeasts want the biggest, toughest, most badass males to father their offspring. You’re an alpha, so it can’t shock you that she’s not backing down easy.”
Tanner sighed. “Like I’ve already told both of you, I’m not interested in her offer.”
“What about your hound?” asked Knox. “Because if it’s pushing for you to start your own line—”
“It’s not.” Tanner didn’t doubt that the demon would eventually do it, though.
Male hellhounds rarely committed to one female; they tended to have children with several different partners and were content to be a perpetual bachelor—it was just the primitive way they operated. They weren’t family orientated or built for relationships; their inborn purpose was to protect and defend the gates of hell, not families or mates.
Female hellhounds, however, were different. More nurturing and parental. They did the bulk of the childrearing, and they sought a male who met the qualities they were looking for: strength, power, loyalty, etc. Females often had at least two children before they took a permanent mate, since their inner demon could take a long time to settle down.
“Now, back to the matter at hand,” said Tanner before either Knox or Levi could push him any further on the annoying subject. “I guess we’ll need to take care of Harry’s burial.”