“What lead?”

“A phone call between some shopkeeper and his wife. He claimed someone compelled him—over ice cream, of all things.” Ezekiel chuckled as Sethios’s heart stopped. His friend purposely left out the detail about it being a little girl who used persuasion, but if Osiris asked for clarification, this could all be for naught.

Caro must have felt the same because panic slipped through the bond even as he pushed back at her to remain calm. Already the fire engulfing them was dying, whatever chemical reaction stirred in his blood seemingly disappearing. Only five minutes at most had passed, perhaps even less time than that.

“I thought the purpose of these bullets was to disintegrate the body,” Ezekiel added, cleverly distracting from the topic at hand. “I had rather looked forward to watching the Seraphim regenerate from ash.”

Osiris chuckled. “Be sure to inform Jonathan that he still has work to do.”

“Consider it done.” Ezekiel crouched and used the pistol against Sethios’s head to force his gaze upward. “Ah, there you are. Already healing, I see. Shall I shoot him again, Sire?”

“No, the toy is no longer needed. I can take it from here.”

“Pity.” Ezekiel stood and pocketed the gun.

“Pick up the Seraphim first. I have a few things I need from her.”

Agony shot through the bond as Ezekiel followed Osiris’s orders, and Sethios fought his protective instincts. It helped that he couldn’t move yet, his blood still regenerating in his veins. Once the process ended, he’d have full range of his skills in hand.

“Beautiful,” Osiris murmured, stepping forward. “Tell me, young one, what is your name?”

“Caro,” she rasped, pain echoing from her like a beacon. The bastard had forced her to speak when her body hadn’t finished rejuvenating yet.

“I’m not familiar with you.” Osiris inched closer, his foot landing right beside Sethios’s head. “Tell me who sent you and why.”

“High Council. Edict.” Her throat sounded raw, her words barely audible.

“I see.” Sethios sensed more than saw Osiris scratching his chin. It was a habit of his before he wished to do something truly terrible. “Tell me the edict. Now.”

Sethios flinched, his reflexes kicking in at the realization of just how cruel an order that was for someone in Caro’s position. Her throat wasn’t even healed yet, but she would have to say every word regardless.

“The High Council of Seraph…” She paused to cough, her voice wretched and hoarse beyond repair.

“Now, child. I don’t have all day.”

Sethios growled, his instincts taking over as he engaged his gift. Except when he tried to force Osiris to stop, the command fizzled into ash inside his head.

Fuck.

His father had compelled him not to use his gifts, which meant he’d probably also hampered Caro’s ability to mist.

Still, Sethios tried again, determined. He’d never attempted to use his talent against that of his father, but their strengths didn’t compare. Especially with Sethios being in a healing state.