Tangled Webs

course we’re not leaving him in that house,” Jaenelle snapped. “But—”
    BOOM!
    Surreal staggered. Stopped. Spun around as the side of the house exploded. «Rainier?»
    «I’ve got a shield around us. Shit! I’ll layer the shields.»
    Debris rained down as a dark shape shot skyward with the speed of an arrow released from the bow. Past the fence and high above the trees beyond the property line.
    Then those dark wings spread, pumped, caught the air, and began a wide circle back to the front door, where Daemon and Jaenelle waited.
    “Who did Lucivar bring out with him?” Jaenelle asked, shading her eyes with one hand.
    He’s an idiot, whoever he is, Surreal thought, hurrying to join Jaenelle and Daemon. The man, who was held by one wrist, was flailing around trying to get free. Lucivar was still high enough to skim over rooftops. If he let go, the fool would end up with broken bones or get impaled on the fence.
    A gliding descent. The man’s feet barely cleared the fence. Then Lucivar backwinged, dropped his prey, and landed lightly on the walkway.
    “Look what I found,” Lucivar said. His mouth curved in a savage smile as he looked at Daemon. “I think it’s a little writer-mouse who’s been scurrying in the walls.”
    Daemon’s golden eyes became glazed and sleepy. He purred, “Jarvis Jenkell.”
    “I built this house as research for a novel,” Jenkell said, sounding belligerent. “No one was forced to go inside.”
    “You sent us invitations,” Daemon said.
    “But no one was required to attend,” Jenkell replied.
    Surreal thought about the wording of that invitation and snorted. Then she looked at Lucivar. He looked primed to crush another skull.
    “That’s true,” Daemon said mildly. “We had a choice, even if the phrasing of the invitation implied otherwise. However…” He raised one eyebrow as he looked at Lucivar. “How many dead?”
    “At least twenty,” Lucivar replied.
    “Twenty people were killed to provide the entertainment.” Daemon pursed his lips, looked at Jenkell, and shook his head.
    “Somehow, I don’t think they were given a choice.”
    Jenkell’s forehead beaded with sweat, but he looked defiant. “Among the Blood, there is no law against murder. And I’m Blood, same as you.”
    Surreal stared at Jenkell. Boyo, if you think being Blood makes you the same as Sadi, then you weren’t paying attention to that little detail we call caste.
    “There is no law against murder,” Daemon agreed. “But there is a price. So I think—”
    “Langston man.” The words came out in a vicious snarl.
    Surreal took a step to the side to get a better look at the woman moving toward them in a predatory stalk.
    Hell’s fire. It was Tersa.
    “You tried to hurt the boy,” Tersa said. “And the other children, too. You lied to me. You said it was a surprise for the children.”
    It was that, Surreal thought.
    “Tersa.” Daemon turned toward Tersa, blocking her direct path to Jenkell.
    She had known Tersa for centuries, had seen her when she was semilucid, lost in her visions, or just raving mad. But she’d never seen her when she was filled with a cold, wild fury.
    Still focused on Jenkell, Tersa shifted to move around Daemon. “You tried to hurt the children. You tried to hurt my boys!”
    She lunged at Jenkell, who squealed— squealed! —and turned to run.
    Daemon caught Tersa. Lucivar caught Jenkell.
    “Tersa, let me handle this.” Daemon tightened his grip on Tersa’s arms. “Mother.”
    Jenkell froze. Surreal wanted to slap him for being an idiot twice over. Hadn’t he bothered to find out who she was before he lured Tersa into helping him?
    “Mother, let me handle this.”
    They stared at each other, mother and son, and Surreal saw a truth about Daemon she’d never seen before. Mother Night. What he is…Not all of it came from his father.
    Then Tersa held up something between them. Surreal couldn’t see what it was, but when Daemon looked down, he smiled. A cold, cruel smile.
    He stepped back and turned to face Jenkell. “There is no law against murder. But there is a price. I rule this Territory. The people you killed to fuel this entertainment? They belonged to me. The Warlord Prince who was wounded works for me. The witch who was injured is family. Not to mention the harm you’ve done to my mother by using her in a scheme to kill her own son. Everything has a price, Jenkell. It’s time for you to pay the debt.”
    Daemon walked up to the front