“When did this happen?” Graydon fisted his hands.

“An hour before dawn.”

The need to rend the other male into pieces caused his fingers to lengthen into talons. “While Beluviel and I were looking for Ferion.”

“You might not have destroyed the building yourself, but you were involved.” The Djinn hissed, “I know it!”

Suddenly Bel screamed, “You monster, there were children in that hellhole!”

Malphas’s face began to look like the mask it was. Power blazed through the handsome features, and he forgot to move his mouth when he spoke. “What the flesh peddlers did with that part of the business was of no concern of mine. I care nothing for matters of the flesh. All that matters is the game.”

At that, Graydon realized Malphas was as much of an addict as Ferion. He turned the realization over in his mind, as if assessing a new weapon.

Somehow, he might find a way to make use of the realization, except at the moment he was having trouble concentrating.

Just the thought of never being able to touch Beluviel again, kiss her lips, stroke her hair was making him more than a little mad. Easing his arm out of her hold, he stalked toward the Djinn.

“You’re a pariah,” he snarled. “You don’t keep your word.”

He had no idea what showed on his expression. Whatever it was, Malphas retreated in the face of it. “I know how to keep a pact when my life is at stake.”

Suddenly Bel stood beside Graydon. She said between her teeth, “I don’t believe you. You won’t really give up your leverage on Ferion.”

Malphas’s physical form dissipated. His disembodied voice resonated in the room. “Do you really have a choice? Think about it. Besides, Ferion is only Calondir’s heir. Likely, he will never become the Elven High Lord himself. He’ll continue to live a half life, with no real power or purpose. While I’m happy to have gotten my claws into him, there’s no guarantee my time and trouble will amount to anything.”

Instinct more than anything caused Graydon to whirl. Malphas had reformed and stood behind Ferion, one hand on the Elf’s shoulder. Ferion stared at them fixedly, a muscle leaping in his rigid jaw.

“Make your choice,” Malphas said. “Throw the dice.”

Graydon stared at the Djinn’s hand on Ferion’s shoulder. Then he looked at Bel.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. Graydon didn’t think she was even aware of it. There was so much love and anguish in her expression when she looked at Ferion, something inside Graydon broke.

Maybe it was the hope they had created when they talked of meeting every month. The small house with a large, private yard had sounded so perfect to him, and it was never going to happen.

Ferion was the child of her heart. She had spent so many years loving, protecting and nurturing him, hoping for the best in his future and feeling pain at his struggles.

I will keep looking for a way to get out of this, Graydon told her telepathically. No matter how long it takes, no matter what I have to do. I will not stop until we’re all freed.

Graydon, no, Bel said. There must be something we haven’t thought of, something we can still negotiate.

Can you think of any angle to use? he asked. Because my God, I’m more than ready to hear it.

Her face clenched. She remained silent.

Aloud, he said, “We’ll take your deal, Djinn – except for one codicil.”

Malphas arched one golden eyebrow. “What’s that?”

Sometimes in life you had to draw a hard line and say this will not happen, no matter what the cost, not as long as I am alive to stop it.

He said between his teeth, “If you ever again even passively support child prostitution in any form, holding a lien on Ferion’s life won’t protect you. Nobody will be able to protect you. I won’t stop hunting you until you are nothing more than a bad memory scattered on the wind.”

The room throbbed as his Power boiled over. In the silence, he heard Bel’s distressed breathing, but even though he had just laid her son’s life on the line, she never uttered a word of protest.

Ferion said with quiet force, “I support that codicil.”

Malphas made a quick, slicing gesture. “Of course. I’ll make certain of it.”

Bel said softly, “You do realize that if anything happens to Ferion, my first thought will be of you. If he dies, all your leverage fades away. That card you think you hold over me and Graydon, and what happened between us – it means nothing. So it would be prudent of you to make sure nothing happens to my son.”

Means nothing.

The two words beat against Graydon’s temples.

What did she mean by that? Everything she said held a ring of truth. Did their time together mean nothing? Or did she mean keeping it secret meant nothing?

Don’t react, he thought. Don’t show this predator any hint of blood.

Malphas lowered his head while he assessed Bel with a calculating gaze. “Understood.”

“Now, get your hand off him.” Bel’s voice was sharp enough to slice steel.

Smiling, Malphas lifted his hand away. “From your hostility, I take it there’ll be no invitation for me to join you for the holidays. No? Oh well, one does endure. In any case, I’m needed elsewhere. I have a new gaming hell to establish. Do shut the door on your way out.” He leaned forward to say in Ferion’s ear, “I’ll check in with you frequently.”

Ferion’s gaze cut sideways, his expression filled with such loathing that if Malphas had been a physical creature, Graydon felt sure he would not have survived the next few moments.

The Djinn’s form blew into a whirlwind that dissipated almost at once. Graydon cast out his awareness, seeking for any hint that the Djinn lingered in stealth, but Malphas was truly gone.