“Would you care for me to remove it?”

I was about to accept when some wild wiggling of Jim’s eyebrows warned me to think carefully. The polite, well-dressed, and well-spoken man in front of me might appear perfectly normal, but he was in fact a demon lord, one of the eight princes of Hell, and commander of legions of demons ... not the sort of person I wanted removing a sharp, potentially lethal if mishandled, object from my body.

“You know, it’s not really hurting that bad, so I think I’ll just leave it where it is for now.” I offered the demon lord a bright, cheerful smile.

He gave me a bland “you’re quite, quite insane” look. “Indeed. Well, shall we get to business?”

I headed toward the elegant Victorian armchair covered in petit point that he indicated, pausing as I considered best how to sit without moving the sword.

“Ah. You are having difficulties? Allow me.”

Ariton took ahold of the chair by the back. I assumed he was going to remove the chair and give me a footstool or something to sit on but stared in surprise as he simply ripped the back off the antique chair, tossing the ruined part into the fireplace before returning to his own seat. I stared openmouthed for a moment at the now-backless chair, boggling just a little at how easily he had destroyed it, then snapped my mouth shut and took my seat without comment.

“As a fellow demon lord, you are no doubt aware of the lamentable recent events in Abaddon,” Ariton said, playing with a polished bone letter opener. I wondered whose bone it was.

“Well...”

Jim sent me a pregnant glance.

“I am to the best of my ability, naturally. But you know, given the circumstances, I really don’t consider myself much of an expert in the whole demon lord business.”

Ariton frowned as he set down the letter opener. “Circumstances? Of what circumstances are you speaking?”

I crossed my legs and tried to look as if it was a perfectly natural thing for me to be sitting in the den of a demon lord, a sword piercing my midsection.

“Well, I have only the one demon.”

We both looked at Jim, who was, come to think of it, being unusually quiet. Jim looked back at me, its eyes wary. “The number and ... er... quality of your minions is not of importance at this moment. You are a demon lord. You are a wyvern’s mate. Although I have heard a rumor you have been seen in the company of a Guardian, I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation for that. The fact remains that you will naturally be interested in the recent happenings, and weighing the evidence of which prince you wish to rule Abaddon.”

Jim coughed.

“I am never hasty in my decisions,” I said firmly, ignoring the fact that I hadn’t been exactly truthful. “I need lots and lots of evidence before I make such an important decision.”

“As I suspected.” Ariton leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled. “The reason I have brought you here is to seek an agreement between us.”

I badly wanted to ask what the hell he was talking about, but Jim had sent me enough warning looks to keep me bluffing my way through the situation. I couldn’t imagine what a demon lord wanted from me, but I knew that without a doubt, it wasn’t going to be anything good. “What sort of an agreement did you have in mind?”

“A simple one by which we both benefit.” His eyelids dropped until he was giving me a veiled glance that sent shivers of uneasiness down my back and arms. “You support me against Asmodeus’s attempt for the throne of Abaddon, and I will rid you of any and all enemies.”

“I don’t have any enemies,” I protested, then glanced at the sword. “Well, none that deserve being rid of by a demon lord!”

Jim stepped on my foot. Ariton’s eyelids drooped even more. “Do you not? I was under the impression that the imp kingdom has sworn to have your head in exchange for the murder of their monarch.”

“That was a mistake, and ... oh, it doesn’t matter.” I stood up carefully, wondering where I was, praying it wasn’t too far from London. “I appreciate your offer, but it’s just not going to work for me.”

“Do you mind telling me why you so abruptly spurn my offer of friendship?” Ariton asked, his voice rich with menace. Jim scooted over until its body was leaning against mine.

“I haven’t spurned anything, and I’m sorry if it seems to you that I have,” I said slowly, trying to pick my way through a path that seemed to be fraught with nothing but potential peril. “The truth is, I’ve got one little demon. I’m not a big, powerful demon lord. My support can’t mean squat when compared to all the other demon lords you could be rallying.”

“The six other princes have their own interests at heart,” Ariton answered. “The seventh, Bael, will be leaving his throne. So you see, you are important.”

There was an undertone that raised goose bumps on my arms. I badly wanted out of there, not just so I could have the blasted sword removed, but to get away from Ariton himself. There was a subtle, almost intangible miasma of evil around him, like darkness gathered, little snaky tendrils of it reaching out to tease me.

“I’m not talking about you guys. I mean all the other demon lords like me.”

“Like you?” One eyebrow rose.

“Kind of part-time demon lords, if you get my meaning.”

He was silent for a moment, then stood up and walked to a curtained window. “There is no other like you, Aisling Grey.”

A little skitter of pain shot through me at the invocation of my name. I took hold of Jim’s leash and wrapped one arm around myself, wondering if I made a break for the door, whether I’d make it out alive. “Surely there must be other demon lords—”

“No. There are the eight princes of Abaddon, of which I am one, and then there is you.”

“Wait a minute ...” I shook my head, hoping it would clear my confusion. “Are you saying that other than you guys, the big demon lords, the ones who rule Abaddon, I’m the only other demon lord around?”

“Your pretense bores me,” Ariton drawled. “Your disrespect and insults I find less acceptable, but given the serious times in which we find ourselves, I will overlook them both. You have the cycle of one day to come to your senses and acquiesce to my generous offer.”

He turned his back on me, as if dismissing me. Jim hurried for the door next to the fainting couch. “And if I don’t acquiesce?” I asked, dreading the response but unable to keep from asking the question.