How rapidly the man’s face drained of blood was proof enough that he knew exactly who he was facing. His gaze focused on me.

I smiled again, lifting my sunglasses so that they were perched on my head as I tapped into my grace, just a little, letting it shine through. Fisher sucked in air as his chest rose and fell rapidly.

From the chair, Cayman said, “The whole glowing thing is super creepy.”

Only a demon would think it was creepy.

I reined my grace back in.

“Do you know who we are?” Zayne asked. “Now?”

“I’m not really Frosty the Snowman,” I hinted.

Fisher looked like he might bust an artery. “I know.” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Then you also know who I know.”

“If you think we’re even remotely afraid of the Harbinger, you’re very misguided,” I advised, leaning back. “You’re going to help us.”

“I can’t,” he said, hands landing on his knees. “You might as well go ahead and kill me, because I cannot help you.”

I sighed, rising from the coffee table. “I guess it’s going to be the hard way.”

Zayne didn’t take my place. Instead, he grabbed a chair from the dining table set and then kicked the coffee table back, the stubby legs scratching deep grooves into the wood floors.

“That was hot,” Cayman said.

It really was.

Zayne placed the chair in front of the senator and sat. “Where is the Harbinger?”

Fisher shook his head as I moved to stand where Zayne had been.

“Where is the Harbinger staying?” Zayne tipped forward, eye level with the senator.

Silence.

Zayne picked up the senator’s hand. The man tried to fight him, but it was like a rabbit fighting a wolf. “Do you know how many bones are in your hand? Twenty-seven. In your wrist? Eight. Three in each of your fingers. Two in your thumb. Each hand has three nerves in it, and, as I’m sure you know, a human’s hand is incredibly sensitive. Now, I can break each one of those bones individually,” he continued, voice soft as he turned the man’s hand over. “Or I can do it all at once. I think I know what needs to be done, and I’m sorry you don’t seem to know any better.”

There was a crack that caused me to cringe inwardly as the senator shouted, his body curling inward.

“I wish I had popcorn,” Cayman commented.

Zayne tilted his head. “That was just one finger. Three bones. A lot more to go. Where is the Harbinger?”

Dear God, Zayne was like the Chuck Norris of Wardens.

Chest heaving, Fisher groaned as he squeezed his eyes. “Jesus.”

“I really do not think he’s going to be any help,” I said dryly.

Another crack caused my head to jerk to Zayne. “That was your thumb,” he said. “So that was two more.”