All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [175]
Louis chuckled. He knew better now than to ask for a seat, so he took one across the table.
Mitch set both his hands on the table.
Excellent. Another proper Infernal custom. Hands in the open—a gesture to indicate that no weapons were being readied under the table, a prerequisite to any serious discussion. Louis mirrored the gesture.
What fun. This was like a game of chess with a Grandmaster on one side, a child on the other. Amusing, for now . . . although Louis feared it would soon grow dull.
Louis decided to play along and honor human customs as well. He would start with small talk and break the ice, the unnecessary social fluff that all humans seemed to enjoy.
“Isn’t the weather pleasant today?” Louis asked. “I’ve heard wonderful things about you, young man. An A-minus on your midterms—wonderful!”
One corner of Mitch’s mouth twitched, and he eased back into his chair.
This was so easy. Humans were ever so willing to be buttered up. Perhaps the Stephenson family was not all their reputation had led him to believe.
“Say what you came to say, Deceiver,” Mitch spat out, somehow managing to sound repulsed and polite the same time.
Louis blinked. The boy had some spine somewhere in all that base human flesh, after all.
“Very well,” Louis said. “Cards on the table, as you people say. I came to discuss my daughter.”
Mitch snorted. “You know she hates you Infernals? Every time they’re mentioned, her hackles rise.”
Louis quickly stopped a scowl from creasing his face, and hid his true feelings behind a smile.
Was this mortal baiting him? And why did his words sting so?
Fiona didn’t hate him, did she? No—they had had a wonderful discussion when last they spoke . . . although perhaps she was uneasy with Louis’s new and magnificent presence.
“Be that as it may,” Louis said with deliberate calm, “I thought it high time to speak to the young man courting her.”
“If you think I need your approval to go out with Fiona, you’ve wasted your time as well as mine.”
How had this conversation turned? The boy should not be acting like this. He should be charming and gracious, humble—or, at least, terrified of Louis. What were they teaching teenagers at Paxington these days? Whatever it was, he approved.
Or was there something else to this mortal?
Louis forged ahead. There were ways to appeal to young men, especially shrewd young men such as this.
“Of course,” Louis agreed. “Fiona knows her own mind. I could see she has chosen wisely. No, I came to offer you a deal.”
Mitch’s eyes flickered with interest, and he leaned forward. “What precisely are you offering?”
Louis had him now. He had but to tease just a bit more to set the hook. It was almost too easy . . . but that was fine. Louis could enjoy a small, simple victory, a long overdue sign that his luck was changing for the better. He’d purchase this boy’s soul with some trinkets and use him to worm his way into Fiona’s good graces.
Louis’s hands curled slightly on the tabletop, his nails scratching the glass in anticipation of victory.
“Why, I am offering you the world, young man,” Louis whispered with utmost sincerity. “Money, power, and all that goes with it. As much as you dare grab with both hands.”
Mitch cocked an eyebrow and leaned even farther forward. “And in return for these grand boons, sir, you expect . . . what?”
Louis almost laughed out loud at someone calling him “sir.” This was perfection.
“Just a trifling thing: an alliance of a sort.”
Mitch looked unconvinced, but he turned over one hand on the table, the traditional signal of his willingness to bargain.
Louis nodded at the empty cocoa cups. “It is obvious you require help with my daughter. If you truly knew her, you’d realize that the mere smell of chocolate is enough to make her disgorge her breakfast.”
Mitch’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t realized.”
“It’s the little things in romance that women notice,” Louis told him. “Details count. I have a nearly infinite amount of experience in these matters. Let me help you.