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AZAZEL HOVERED OVER the spot where the hooded woman had fallen into the river and waited expectantly. The water boiled and turned red with her blood, then body parts and pieces of torn clothing floated to the surface. He watched them bob as they were swept away by the current. “It serves the wench right,” he muttered with a chuckle. Wheeling away, he flew back to the Magic Guildhall. He saw a crow following him, but didn’t pay much attention to it as he landed on the windowsill. The carrion eaters seemed to be everywhere now.
Onvier whirled around to face him and gestured for him to enter. “Did you catch her?” the elf asked when the demon pushed the window up. He’d already replaced the ward around his office so no one could listen in.
“I didn’t need to,” the demon replied. “The stupid woman jumped off a bridge into the river. The water elementals tore her apart.”
“She must have been an assassin,” the Guild Master said. He’d bound his latest victim to him and had drained some of his magic before sending him away. He’d been waiting in tense expectation for Azazel to return with what he hoped would be good news.
“You think the Immortal Triumvirate tried to have you eliminated?”
“Why else would she have been hiding in here?” the elf asked.
“What are you going to do?” Azazel asked.
“I’m going to speak to our beloved leaders,” Onvier decided. “They can’t possibly know about our plans, so there has to be another reason why they decided to have me killed. I want to know why they betrayed me.”
Azazel mentally rolled his eyes at his ally’s affronted tone. Onvier was planning on murdering all three of their rulers, which would be the ultimate betrayal of trust, yet he was whining that they’d tried to have him killed. “I’d best return to the catacombs,” he said.
“Yes, yes, off you go,” the Guild Master said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He didn’t see the silent snarl that the demon gave him before he loped back to the window and flew away.
Onvier released his ward, then teleported to the Immortal Triumvirate’s headquarters. “I wish to have a meeting with our leaders,” he said self-importantly to the two agents who were standing guard at the door.
“I’ll ask if they can see you, sir,” the one wearing an FBI badge said. “What’s your name?” he added.
The elf heaved a sigh at the moronic Night Cursed being’s inability to remember anything. “Guild Master Onvier,” he said with exaggerated patience.
The agent put his finger on the magical device he wore in his ear and murmured quietly. He listened, then nodded at the man with the auburn hair and orange eyes. “You’re cleared to enter their private sitting room, sir,” he said.
Onvier rudely pushed past them both and took the stairs upwards. Another agent guided him to a door and knocked. “Enter,” Lord Kreaton drawled, then the agent let the elf into the room.
“You look rattled, Guild Master,” Lord Graham said. The alpha werewolf was sprawled on an armchair and was nursing a glass of whiskey. His ginger hair and beard were unkempt, but his amber eyes were alert.
“I demand to know why you attempted to have me assassinated,” Onvier declared, glaring at the trio.
They shared confused looks at his accusation. His certainty that they were responsible for the intruder in his office faltered. “We did no such thing!” Lord Dallinar slurred in drunken affront. “Did we?” he added as he looked at his allies, just in case one of them had issued the order.
“No, we did not,” Lord Kreaton confirmed while giving the Guild Master a baleful stare. “Why would you burst in here and accuse us of this nonsense?”
“A hooded woman was hiding in my office,” Onvier explained while withering a little beneath their combined ire. “She was discovered and fled before she could attempt to take my life. She was seen leaping into the river and was killed by water elementals.” His tone became smug and self-satisfied, as if he’d chased her to her death himself.
“She wasn’t one of our assassins,” Lord Dallinar said, waving his tumbler around and spilling some of the contents on himself. “We would have felt it if she’d died.”
He couldn’t lie, so Onvier knew they were telling the truth. “If she wasn’t one of your assassins, who was she?” he asked peevishly.
“Maybe she was a secret admirer,” Lord Graham said slyly. “She probably just wanted your autograph or something.” He chuckled at his own wit, but no one else laughed with him.
“She survived a fall from the window in my office,” Onvier said in annoyance. “She’s obviously been trained to use stealth. Someone sent her after me. If it wasn’t you, then who could it have been?”
“If she’d been a demon, I would have suggested Raum as the culprit,” Lord Kreaton said.
“She wasn’t a demon,” the elf said in utter certainty. “She was humanoid in appearance.” He hadn’t seen her face beneath her hood, but her body had definitely been humanlike. Besides, Azazel would have known it if the assassin had been his kin.
“Strong demons can change their shape,” Lord Graham pointed out. “Raum wears a human façade most of the time.”
“Only demons from the most powerful bloodlines can assume a human form,” Lord Kreaton argued. “It’s doubtful a demon with that much power would personally attempt to assassinate the Guild Master.”
“It would seem someone wants you dead, Onvier,” Lord Dallinar said, then chuckled. “I’m glad I’m not in your shoes. More assassins could pop up to take you out at any time.” He snickered again, sloshing more alcohol on himself in the process.
Onvier realized he’d made a mistake by accusing the Immortal Triumvirate of attempting to engineer his death. They were watching him expectantly and he knew what he had to do. “I apologize for assuming you sent the assassin to kill me,” he said stiffly.
“We don’t turn on our allies, Guild Master Onvier,” Lord Kreaton said. The elf saw the sardonic look Lord Graham sent his colleague and filed it away. “We made an agreement with the guilds that they can choose who runs them without our interference,” the vampire went on. “You won the position through merit and we have no reason to have you eliminated.”
“Of course, my lord,” Onvier said. He bowed to break eye contact with the master vampire before he could use his charisma to ensnare his mind. If Lord Kreaton used his talents on him, he would spill every secret that was locked away inside his mind. “I’d best be getting back to the guildhall,” he said.
“You are dismissed,” Lord Dallinar said loftily, waving his dainty hand towards the door.
The elf turned and left, closing the door behind him. His cheeks turned red from rage and embarrassment when snickers broke out in the private sitting room. He strode away before he could hear them talking about him behind his back.
Paranoia swept through him that an unknown enemy wanted him dead. He was going to have to watch his back from now on. He had to make sure no one was going to finish the mission the dead assassin had failed to accomplish.
