A woman was in the parlor chair, sitting by the empty hearth and waiting. Mary sighted her the moment she entered her flat. In the next breath, she had her baton in hand.
“I heard that,” said the woman, her voice crystal-clear in the darkness. “You needn’t bother with weapons. I have no interest in hurting you.”
Mary kept a light hold on her baton as she moved farther into the room. “All the same, I’ll be leaving it in hand.” Keeping her eyes on her guest, Mary lit the lamp by the door. Soft golden light illuminated the small space.
The woman blinked once at the sudden glow. She was beautiful, in a sharp sort of way: narrow face, cold amber eyes, black hair. Her dress was highly fashionable, an indigo taffeta trimmed with crimson piping. Pale, elegant hands rested calmly in her lap.
Just as Mary inspected her guest, she was treated to the same once-over. The woman’s full lips curved in a satisfied smile. “You know, they said you were lovely. I do not think they did you justice. You have the face of an angel.”
“And the temper of the devil,” Mary warned lightly, as if her insides weren’t still trembling.
A soft laugh. “Don’t we all?”
Mary took a step closer. She let her senses expand, scanning for hidden threats while keeping her eyes on the woman. “Who are ‘they’?”
“My associates.” The woman inclined her head, a graceful nod toward the small settee before her. “Do sit down.”
“How gracious of you to play hostess in my own home.” Mary made her way over to the next lamp and turned it up. The corners of the woman’s eyes crinkled.
“Sanguis?” Mary asked her. Sanguis demons were notorious for their dislike of bright light.
The woman’s eyes narrowed further. “Clever girl.”
“The girl grew up long ago.” Mary stopped and regarded her visitor. “State your business.” She needed this woman out of her home before she completely lost her composure. She’d told Jack they were finished. It had hurt to hurt him. You might as well ask me to cut off a limb. That was precisely what it felt like. When had he become an essential part of her?
The woman shifted forward, a deliberate and calm movement designed to invite trust, and Mary set herself back on guard.
“Since we know each other’s intimate makeup,” the woman said, “ought we not exchange names?” Pale lips curled again. “I am Miss Ada Moore.”
Mary leaned a hip against the arm of her settee, just as deliberately stating that she did not trust Miss Moore an inch. “I shall assume you know my name, Miss Moore. Your business, please.”
Moore rested her hands back in her lap, as proper as any governess. “I am here to make you an offer, and give a warning.” Her tone was soft yet clipped. “I work for the Nex.” She smiled a little. “I see by your expression that you have a decidedly prejudicial view of my organization.”
Decidedly. Mary worked day and night to run them to ground. “You can’t have expected otherwise.” Against the folds of her skirts, Mary eased her grip on her weapon, getting more comfortable with it.
Cool amber eyes turned hard and pure black. “It would be a mistake to attack me, Miss Chase.”
“And it would be a mistake to underestimate me.”
“Understood. Sit. We can talk.”
Mary remained standing. “What is your offer?”
“You have a traitor in your midst,” she said. “Your amiable partner to be exact.”
“Talent?” Mary’s blood stilled. “I do not believe you.” True, Jack had just admitted to seeking revenge on demons. He’d even admitted to belonging to the Nex when he was younger. But had he ever truly left? She thought of Poppy’s concern, and rather feared it would be quite easy to accuse Jack Talent of the ultimate betrayal now. Jack. Another spear of pain went through her.
“Such loyalty.” Moore snorted. “For a man who has been notoriously scornful of you?” Moore’s head tilted, sending the small curls of her fringe slanting over her brow. “How interesting.”
Mary forced herself not to react. “You have proof?”
A gleeful light glowed in Ada Moore’s eyes. “That is a given. You do realize that he is the Bishop of Charing Cross.”
“Yes.”
It was almost amusing to witness the shock running over Moore’s face.
“Well, that is enlightening,” Moore murmured at last.
“If the Nex has known, why haven’t you killed him?” The question coated her tongue with bitterness and turned her stomach, but she need to understand. “Why come to me now?”