“I don’t work for anyone.”

“A partnership, then.”

“I don’t work with anyone either.”

“I see.” The light dimmed in Ezekiel’s gaze, darkening his irises to a near black. “In that case, you don’t need me, do you?”

Well played, Ichorian. Well played.

“What are you requesting in return for your assistance?” Gabriel didn’t want to beat around the bush or continue this posturing game. He wanted to arrive at the point and be done with all the prophecy business.

Then he might return to take a second look at the CRF.

“I’m not sure yet. It depends on how good you are, Stark.”

Gabriel frowned. “Stark?”

“Consider it a nickname. Keeps me from knowing your real identity and it suits you.” The Ichorian winked. “I assume you’ve already tried to enter Osiris’s estate and failed?”

“Entering was not my issue so much as locating my target.”

“And what do you intend to do with your ‘target’?”

“Request a prophecy. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Ezekiel eyed him in a considering manner. “I will require to be there, and if you try anything, you’ll regret it.”

“Threats are unnecessary,” Gabriel replied flatly. “I’m only interested in her vision and conveying the details to an interested party.” He purposely withheld Sethios’s and Caro’s names but knew the Ichorian understood when his lips curled.

“Brilliant. I’ll need some time to work out the details.” He tucked his hands into his leather jacket and cocked his head curiously to the side. “I don’t suppose you fancy a drink? There’s a place down the street with great scotch. You might even find it… compelling.”

A hint of some kind, or perhaps a warning.

Gabriel’s mission was to find the seer. Ezekiel intended to either aid him in that or lead him on an errand. Only one way to find out. “I’ve nothing better to do.”

The Ichorian grinned. “Excellent. Perhaps chat with me as if that was our expected plan all along?”

Ah, we’re being watched. “Of course.”

“Brilliant.” He nodded with his head in the direction for them to walk by the CRF. As they neared the gates, Ezekiel asked, “Are you still fucking that witch from London?”

Gabriel fought a grimace and played along. “The one with the fiery red hair?”

“Yeah. Can’t remember her name. Tabby?”

“Abby.” Gabriel couldn’t force a warm reply but tried for a grin that felt foreign on his lips. The expression Ezekiel gave him told him to stop trying. “We’re not seeing each other anymore.”

He raised his brows. “I can tell by that look.” Ezekiel smirked as they turned the corner. “Never know who might be listening.”

“And now?”

“We’re good. Something tells me you won’t raise any red flags.”

A thought nagged at Gabriel. “How did you recognize me?” He should have asked earlier, but he’d been preoccupied with finally completing his first step of the mission.

Ezekiel smiled fondly. “Skye told me where to trace but didn’t tell me why. Then your light hair reminded me of the last Seraphim I briefly met, so I assumed you were who Skye sent me to meet.”