Enemies(35)

The man behind the desk was younger than I expected. He didn’t stand to greet us but watched, his posture lazy as he sat there, impeccably dressed in a suit that probably cost more than I made in a month when I was working for the Directorate. He had a leg up on the desk, resting it, and was tilted back in his chair. His hair was brown, his eyes were dark, and his features were sharp. I felt coldness radiate off him in waves. Not literally, like Winter, just a chill eye, like I was being surveyed by someone without any emotion. It decreased his attractiveness by a considerable margin, making him ugly to look at. He wore a little smile, and I would have sworn it was there just for me, but I got the feeling he’d been wearing it since before the door had opened.

As we walked in, heading toward the two aged wooden chairs sitting in front of the desk, he gave me the slightest incline of his head as he watched me. It made me feel a little dirty. He made a motion toward one of the chairs in front of him, and I sat, adopting a posture just as lazy as his. I realized with only mild surprise that Kat was sitting in the other chair, her nose still a little swollen but looking far better than when I’d last left her.

“Sienna,” Kat said reluctantly.

“Gutterslut,” I replied with a cordial nod.

There was a moment’s pause then Kat cracked a nervous smile. “Just like old times, huh? Sitting in front of Old Man Winter’s desk? Or Ariadne’s?”

“Do you even remember those days?” I didn’t look at her. Bast and Madigan took a seat on a couch about ten feet behind us, against one of the walls.

Kat paused, as though taken aback by the question. “Of course I remember those days. I haven’t forgotten everything, just—”

“Just the last guy you were sleeping with,” I said, looking back to see the Primus favoring me with a sly, almost malicious smile. I cast a look back at Janus and grinned. “I’m taking wagers—who do you think will forget the other first—you or her?”

Janus looked wary again. “I don’t have the power to forget things the way a Persephone-type would—”

“I meant from old age,” I said, twisting the knife and noticing the flash of irritation in Janus’s eyes, “but if you’d like to forget her sooner, I have some expertise in that area—”

“This is all so cute,” the Primus said in a high voice, his accent unmistakably American. “I may not even need to watch TV tonight. Not like the BBC has anything interesting on it anyway,” he said, an ugly tone undercutting the lightness in his voice. “All the sniping, backbiting, the repartee. It’s like a reality TV show airing right here in my office. You know, minus the reality part of it.”

“You’re not from England,” I said, tracing a look back to the Primus.

He gave a slight shrug of the shoulders to go with his grin. “Born and raised in Los Angeles. What can I say? I’m of the new world, not the old.” He waved his hand around the room, indicating all the construction. “That’s why all this stuff, these remnants … they gotta go. This is the twenty-first century, not the eighteenth. I’m here to bring Omega into the next age, not keep it cowering in the last one.”

I looked at him carefully, putting things together. “You’re new.”

“I’ve been around for a while,” he came back at me.

“I meant as Primus,” I said. I looked back at Janus and he gave me a subtle nod. Rick, Wolfe’s voice came to me. Son of the last one. “Your name is Rick.”

Rick brought his hands together and clapped them twice in approval. “Very good. Who told you? Wolfe?”

It was my turn to shrug. “Could have been Bjorn or Gavrikov.”

“Wow,” Rick said. “You got both of them, too, huh?”

“Yeah. Isn’t it in my file?” I shot him a mean-spirited look.

“Your file’s pretty incomplete, especially regarding our own agents and how they died.” Rick turned his gaze to Kat. “After all, we haven’t really had someone who’s gotten close to you until recently.”

“What about Mormont?” I asked.

Rick shrugged. “What about him? He went mercenary, tried to make a big play to bring you in and failed. I read about that op and felt sad for the idiots who backed it.” Rick looked pointedly past my shoulder to where Bast was sitting. “Why would you trust some sad-sack human who’s banking for a big payout to deliver the most powerful succubus of our time? Dumb. Just dumb. Typical of the kind of backwards, non-visionary thinking that used to fill this office.” He looked around, and I realized he was waiting for someone to speak up and defend his father. I felt bristling behind me, but whether it was from Madigan, Janus or Bast, I didn’t know. I just knew it was present and contained. Barely. “We’re working on remedying that, though,” he said with a smug grin.