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There was a heartbeat of hesitation… two… three… and then the pathetic moan of some nearby creature seemed to break the lock on Tavin’s silence.

“Seminus demons have only one of the three abilities.” His brisk tone made it clear that the discussion was over as he handed Arik a clay cup containing a few tablespoons of muddy liquid. Tasted like piss and mold, which it probably was, but it was wet, and he’d learned to take everything he could get.

Well, not everything. Sometimes the demons tempted him with things like fluffy, moist slabs of cake; thick, juicy, char-grilled steaks; and frosty mugs of beer. But he’d learned to never, ever touch the offerings, no matter how much his mouth watered and his stomach ached. Doing so earned him hot pokers in places not meant to handle molten iron rods.

Tav’s green eyes flashed with pity, and great, how pathetic were you when a demon pitied your sorry ass?

“Do you know why the demons want me to say the Horseman’s name, Tav?”

“Nope.” Bitterness dripped from Tavin’s normally level voice. “I’m just the hired help.”

“Why’d you take the job?”

Tavin took the cup from Arik and tucked it into his duffle of medical supplies. “No choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Not when you’re an assassin locked into a contract.”

“Assassin, huh?” Arik’s rusty wheels started turning. “Don’t suppose you know a couple of half-breed Sems named Sin and Lore? They’re sort of extended family. They were assassins not long ago.” Lore was now Underworld General’s chief medical examiner, and Sin had taken a position in the demon hospital’s infectious disease department, since her mutated Seminus gift had given her the unique ability to cause disease. Apparently, there was hope that she could also learn how to destroy it.

Tavin reached into his medical bag for a tube of ointment. “I used to work with them.”

A sickly little flame of hope flared. “Can you get them a message?”

“Not until the demons who hired me no longer need me.”

At which point, Arik would probably be dead. “Come on… the R-XR and Aegis will compensate you nicely if you do this.” He couldn’t believe he was trying to make a deal with a demon. But then, it wouldn’t be the first time. At least in this case, his soul wasn’t on the table.

Just his life.

“I can’t risk it.”

“If you’re an assassin, you’ve got to be all sneaky and shit.”

“I am. But the answer is still no.” He smoothed a thin film of the greasy medicine over an abrasion on Arik’s chest. Tavin’s healing ability always tapped out before he could get to all the minor injuries. “Betraying this contract means an extremely long, painful death and possible eternal torment.”

“Sort of like what I’m going through?” Arik muttered.

“Pretty much.”

Arik glared. “Okay, so if you’re an assassin, why are you healing me?”

“Your captors paid a shit-ton of money for my services, whether that be killing or healing.”

“So you’d kill me if they asked you to?”

“Yep.”

Nice. “Look, if you’ll pass on a message—” Arik shut up at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Tavin stepped away as two ugly-ass motherfuckers stopped at the cell door. Six-inch claws wrapped around the steel bars. Arik’s pulse leaped. He never knew if the demons were going to torture him, feed him, or merely taunt him.

“Human scum,” the tallest one said, the tusks protruding from his lower jaw dripping saliva. “We’re going to discuss your last ng s your meal.”

Well, this couldn’t be good. Arik rolled his shoulder in a nonchalant shrug, even though his heart was going ballistic.

“Last meal? How about surf-and-turf, medium-rare on the steak, fettuccine alfredo, and those amazing garlic cheese biscuits from Red Lobster? Could I get a Harp, too? Cold, though, not that room temperature crap they like in Ireland.”

Two sets of humorless black eyes stared back at him. “Your choice is putrefied meat with maggots or fish skin.”

“Awesome.” Arik tapped his chin, appearing to consider his options. “Hmm… gross or really gross. Tough decision. I’ll go with gross.”

The shorter ugly-ass motherfucker clicked his