LITMIR.BIZ

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      Anwyl, still on his feet, looked skeptical. “What proof do we have that this so-called heir even exists?”

      “We have the word of the leader of the Dominion, the fourth choir of angels. We also know that the Goddesses of Fate summoned Princess Vashti’s sister, Tanzi, to them at the palace of Gladsheim recently and spoke to her of the true heir. Our biggest problem lies in the fact that the identity of the heir has been so well hidden he himself is unaware of it. The goddesses told Tanzi that the answer lies on the Isle of Avalon.”

      Anwyl’s noble features remained mistrustful. “The Goddesses of Fate delight in interfering.”

      The clerk cleared his throat in preparation for another reminder about respect, but Cal spoke before he could intervene. “While that may be true, the goddesses are not able to lie. If we are to find the heir, someone must go to Avalon in search of him. It is a journey that is both perilous and unprecedented. We have only one offer to make the attempt. That offer has come from Jethro.”

      Everyone in the room knew Prince Tibor hated Jethro and had sworn to kill him for the perceived crime of stealing the vampire leader’s human servant from him. Even so, the prince’s words, when he turned to speak to the necromancer, were polite. “You would do this? Knowing the dangers, you would be prepared to go to Avalon in search of the faerie heir?”

      Jethro’s smile—the piratical one, the one Vashti loathed with every fiber of her being—dawned. “For the right price.”

      “And what is that price?” Cal’s voice was razor-sharp. As the Council leader, he was scrupulously fair. He would offer no favors just because Jethro was a fellow necromancer and a close friend.

      “One million mortal dollars.”

      * * *

      The Council leaders were huddled in groups during lunch, but it was obvious there was only one topic of conversation. Would they be prepared to part with a million dollars to maintain their Alliance and rid Otherworld of Moncoya?

      “Are you serious?” Cal asked Jethro as the two men took their plates of food out onto the terrace.

      “I never joke about money.”

      “A million dollars is a hell of a lot of cash. It might not seem so much in the mortal realm these days, but to the Otherworld leaders, it represents the equivalent of a huge amount of money.”

      “It’s a hell of a dangerous job.” Jethro leaned against the stone balustrade and looked through the open full-length windows into the banquet hall. “I’ll be turning down some much easier work to do this favor for you, Cal.”

      “I’m honored.” Cal’s voice dripped sarcasm.

      Jethro turned back to face him, all trace of humor gone from his face. “My other work is hit-and-miss. This would be one big, guaranteed payday. I’ve been thinking for a while of giving up the mercenary lifestyle, but when the vampire prince has sworn to rip your throat out, you need a larger-than-average nest egg.”

      “I could try to intercede with Tibor on your behalf about this revenge thing he has going against you. I never could understand why his human servant switched allegiance and suddenly decided you were his master.”

      “No one could. Least of all me.” Jethro felt his lips thin into a line at the memory. He glanced into the room. Tibor was talking to Vashti, leaning attentively toward her as the princess smiled up at him. Since Princess Tanzi had recently thrown the prince over, it looked like Tibor was about to make a move on her twin sister. Good luck to him. They were two of a kind. “But Dimitar left him and became my friend. That bastard killed him for that reason and no other. Now he wants to do the same to me. Let him try. Don’t grovel to the blood-sucking son of a bitch on my behalf.”

      The good thing about Cal, Jethro decided, was he knew when to change the subject. It was the wisdom acquired through centuries of being the world’s greatest sorcerer. When you were the man responsible for bringing King Arthur to the throne—the whole Camelot and Knights of the Round Table thing—you’d probably seen it all before. “Will you be going to the wedding?”

      Jethro laughed. “I might have to. Just to prove to myself that my old friend Lorcan Malone is going to get married at last. And to one of Moncoya’s daughters.” He looked back to where Vashti was standing alone now. Her physical beauty was undeniable...and breathtaking. That lily-pale, flawless complexion and short, light blond hair gave her a fragile appearance Jethro knew was deceptive. She was a lethal fighting machine, as vicious as Moncoya himself. And about as trustworthy. “Personally, I’ll never understand the attraction.”

      “I’ve gotten to know Vashti since the battle that led to Moncoya’s exile. Except in looks, she doesn’t resemble Moncoya, and I have a great deal of respect for the devotion she has shown to the faerie dynasty. It can’t have been easy for her to have learned of Moncoya’s crimes against his own people.”

      Jethro shrugged. It wasn’t like Cal to be easily duped, but he wasn’t going to waste time debating the matter. His only interest in Vashti lay in whether she could sway the other Council members against him. He knew she was about to give it her best shot. “Will they go for it?” He nodded toward the banquet hall where the dignitaries were resuming their places at the table.

      Cal grinned. “You’ll find out soon enough. Wait here. The clerk will call you in when we’ve reached a decision.”

      It was a long wait. Jethro paced the terrace outside the banquet hall a dozen times. What the hell was there to talk about? They were either going to pay him or they weren’t. Obviously he hoped they would, but he wasn’t going to lose sleep over it if the answer was no. He had a few alternative offers lined up, none of them particularly exciting. He didn’t need the money for himself. He’d named the sum for the devilry of it, but now the challenge was out there and Jethro had never backed down from one of them. He needed this adrenaline rush...strange considering the entire vampire dynasty was looking to drain his blood. And there was the new threat of the mysterious but incredibly powerful sorcerer and trickster called Iago, who had sworn to kill Jethro, Cal, Lorcan and Stella.

      I don’t just need eyes in the back of my head, I need them on both sides, as well. Truth be told, I might already have more adrenaline than I can handle.

      Jethro wondered if the Council was taking their time because they wanted to haggle over the price. He shook his head. If that was the case, they could find themselves another mercenary. I’m not a cut-rate guy.

      The French doors opened and the little clerk appeared, interrupting his deliberations. “Merlin Caledonius requests your return to the Council table.”

      Jethro followed him inside and resumed his previous seat. A glance around the table told him nothing. The faces of the representatives were impassive.

      Cal got straight to the point. “The Council has agreed in principle to your proposal to track down King Ivo’s heir and bring him back here to stand against Moncoya. In return, the Council members have agreed to pay you the sum of one million mortal dollars.”

      Jethro cast a glance in Vashti’s direction, expecting to see a sulky expression on those perfect features. Clearly she had lost in her attempt to thwart him. To his surprise, she returned his gaze steadily and with serenity. A faerie who was a good loser? He supposed there had to be a first time for everything. He turned his attention back to Cal, who was still speaking.

      “We do, however, have one condition.”

      Jethro’s brows snapped together. “A condition?”

      Cal nodded. “If we are to invest such a huge sum in this venture, we must be absolutely sure we have the right man at the end of it.”

      Jethro laughed as his understanding of the words dawned. “I see. You think I might lie low for a month and then present you with an impostor after claiming to have been on a long, tortuous journey?”

      Garrick, ever the diplomat, coughed. “You can see how it might be a possibility.”

      Jethro

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