"If that's true, they're probably like trophies to him," said Larkin, toying with her long braid. "Maybe the other wings belong to people he wanted dead."
Knox's thoughts exactly. "We need to hear what Francisco has to say, but I don't have the patience to take the trip using the private jet." He needed answers yesterday.
Sure, he could pyroport to Malibu, but not many knew he had that ability. Knox liked to keep the demon world guessing on what he could or couldn't do. It made it hard for them to work out just what breed of demon he was. If they ever did, they'd no doubt unite against Knox in the hope of killing him. It wouldn't work, of course, but he'd prefer not to have to wipe out most of the demonic population.
"We could use Armand," suggested Larkin, referring to a member of the Force who had the ability to teleport. "He could take us to Francisco."
Knox nodded. "Summon him."
Moments later, there was a knock at the door. "Come in," said Knox. Armand strolled inside, no doubt having teleported outside the office after receiving Larkin's telepathic summons.
"We need you to teleport us somewhere," Knox told him. "How many can you teleport at one time?"
The tall, bald demon said, "Four, including myself."
Knox twisted his mouth. "Is there a limit to how far you can go?"
"I've yet to have a problem reaching a destination."
Keenan rattled off the address of Francisco's Malibu office. "Can you take us there?"
"Absolutely," said Armand. "When?"
"No time like the present," said Knox.
Resting his clasped hands on his office desk, Francisco Alaniz smiled, making the lines of his tanned face deepen. Knox had always thought that the purpose of fake tan was for it to appear natural, not to look literally fake. Maybe Francisco's skin wouldn't have seemed quite so dark if his hair wasn't so light.
///
Knox accepted the invitation to sit opposite Francisco, but he didn't return the smile. It was possible that this demon was responsible for what happened to Harper. Knox wanted to shove the guy against the wall and threaten to cut him open and yank out each and every one of his organs, but Knox knew better than to ease the reins on his control. He also had to bear in mind that the Horsemen wanted him to lose it. They persistently targeted Harper because they believed she was his one weakness. They were correct about that.
He did have the option of simply thrusting his mind into Francisco's to find the truth for himself, but it wasn't an act that Knox enjoyed doing; it meant sieving through a person's thoughts, fantasies, memories, and secrets. It was always an overload of information – information he would often rather not have known.
Also, walking around, thrusting his mind into that of others, would make Knox seem weak, in a sense – make him seem like he didn't trust his own judgement. It would also lose him the respect of many, since it was indeed a violation. He only did it when absolutely necessary.
"I must say it was quite a surprise when my receptionist announced that Knox Thorne was outside my office," Francisco told him, eyes briefly flicking to Levi, who was stood against the far wall. Only Levi had entered the office with Knox. The others were standing guard outside the door, which Francisco's receptionist wasn't too happy about.
Francisco leaned back in his chair. "So, what brings you here, Mr. Thorne? Do you need representation?"
"No. I have some questions for you."
"Oh? Shame. You've got the face and charisma that would take you far in this industry."
Knox got right to the point. "My mate was attacked recently."
Expression sympathetic, Francisco sighed. "Yes, I heard about that. They were hunters, correct?"
"Yes. They were under the mistaken impression that she has wings. She's fully healed. She fought them, which they should have anticipated. Still, it isn't enough for me that I killed the hunters who attacked her." Knox's voice hardened as he added, "I want the demon who hired them."
Francisco sat up straight. "They were hired?"
"Yes. Someone hired them to obtain her wings. My first thought was that it could be a collector."
Realization dawned on Francisco's face. "Ah, I see. You've heard about the wings that are displayed on my wall at home." He sighed. "The only wings on my wall belong to my dead relatives – demons I despised for one reason or another. In truth, I don't care much for sphinx wings. I'm not interested in collecting them."