The Unlikeable Demon Hunter (Nava Katz #1)(64)

“Oh.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.”

I wasn’t disappointed; more confused about how this ability fit in to Ari’s theories about personality flaws and power manifestation. I’d have asked but the look on Drio’s face made it clear that he was not in a sharing mood. “How do you kill demons then? Flash stepping is hardly attack magic.”

Drio looked insulted at the question. “It’s still the same inherent Rasha magic. If a bystander stabs a demon in their kill spot, the demon wouldn’t die. But when a Rasha zaps that place, touches it directly, or funnels his magic through a weapon to hit that same spot?” He brushed his hands together in an “all done” gesture. “My magic works fine. I don’t need fire powers.”

“Fine. You weren’t going to immolate me. My mistake. What was your point?”

“I lost it in all your…” He made the international symbol for “blah blah blah” with one hand. “For the record, I don’t agree with you being here. But Rohan said you deserved it since the make-up artist was your idea and you did pretty well last night. Even if your one-on-one leaves something to be desired.”

Had Rohan said something not in conjunction with the fight to Drio? I shook it off with a “Let’s do this.”

“We wouldn’t even have to do this if Rohan wasn’t so damn stubborn,” Drio said.

“Stubborn?” I jabbed his side when he didn’t answer. “About what? The difference of opinion between him and the Brotherhood on how to proceed with the mission?”

Drio did a double take. “He told you that?” I didn’t even have to fudge the truth about not knowing specific details because Drio was in a mood to rant.

“It’s a no-brainer,” he said. “Forrest Chang, the director of Hard Knock Strife is a huge Fugue State Five fan. He contacted Rohan to do the theme song.”

Interesting.

“That doesn’t mean Rohan would have the chance to buddy up with Samson.”

“Invite King to sing as a cameo. Get in close to the bastard that way. We’ve tried everyone else in his inner circle. No go.” Frustration tightened the corners of his eyes. “It would be so easy for Rohan to get to know Samson. Who’d question a rock star hanging around a bunch of actors?” He pinched his lips together. “But he refuses to step back into that role.”

“I think he’s afraid of what he could slip back into becoming.” Given what Rohan had told me, the scars ran deep, evidenced by the fact that he refused to take on something that would move this assignment forward.

Drio slapped his palm flat against the center of the pad mounted on the wall. “You two have gotten chatty. Why don’t you talk some sense into him?” A red light scanned him as he studied me.

If I managed that, the Executive would adore me. Desperate as I was to get Ari confirmed, I couldn’t use Rohan like this. It was a million kinds of wrong. “Let’s pursue the make-up artist avenue first,” I said.

Part of the wall slid away, revealing a smaller room within the larger Vault, its floors and walls made of iron. Drio motioned me through the concealed door. Ignoring my tiny frisson of fear, I stepped inside, the wall sealing shut behind us.

A beautiful Korean woman sat in the middle of the space, duct-taped to a thick iron chair bolted to the floor. Her eyes bugged out, darting around as she strained against the tape covering her mouth and binding her feet and hands to the arms and legs of the chair.

She turned a pleading look on me.

“Oh my God!” I took a step forward to help her but Drio knocked me back with a sigh.

Flashing over to her side, he did some Vulcan neck pinch thing and she transformed into a sleek white fox with multiple tails. Mostly transformed. Her hands, feet, and face–all the bits touching the tape, stayed human. The overall effect was somewhat disconcerting.

“Nine,” he said, seeing me count her tails.

I inched closer. “What is she?”

“King’s make-up artist, Evelyn. Also a kumiho. A master illusionist usually plying her tricks to seduce men.”

“But this one puts hers to use on King?”

“That’s the theory.”

“How did you know she was a demon?”

He tugged me forward, shoving my face inches away from her neck. “Smell.”

This close to her, I accessed my magic just in case, a low level hum under my fingertips, but despite her growling and thrashing, she was bound fast. I sniffed, blinking at the faint smell of strawberries.

“It’s her natural scent,” Drio said. “She can’t disguise it.”

I walked around Evelyn, who was struggling against her bindings. “How did you get close enough to smell her?”

“My natural charm.”

I poked at a binding. “Duct tape? That holds them?”

He shrugged. “Specially threaded with iron and salt fibers.”

“What are you going to do with her?”

His smile bloomed, both terrifying and sexy. “Have some fun.”

Evelyn’s tails thumped in syncopated agitation against the floor.

I glanced at the demon. “Do I need to worry about sexual misconduct?”

Drio shot me a disgusted look. “I don’t do that,” he replied in a hard voice. “Even to demons.” Just regular torture then.