Generally, familiars were rarely powerful. However, they were often annoyingly immune to the compelling tone that all sphinxes were gifted with, which meant that Harper probably wouldn’t be able to force the she-demon to confess all. But that was okay. There were other much more fun ways of extracting information from people.
As they neared the boathouse, Harper shot Knox a look. Remember, let me lead. He only inclined his head, which would have to be good enough. Blanking her expression, she pushed open the door. Three gleaming chrome and fiberglass boats were separated by narrow walkways. At the end of the central walkway was a curvy redhead, tied to a chair, her eyes wide, her freckled face pale.
Keeping her gaze locked with Sherryl’s, Harper slowly stalked toward her, wooden floorboards groaning beneath her feet. The rough nylon ropes creaked as the boats swayed gently. Beneath the scent of the briny salt water that lapped at the hulls were the smells of wax and motor oil … and the little bitch’s fear. Excellent. That fear was like catnip to Harper’s demon.
Coming to a halt, Harper bared her teeth in a feral smile. She was conscious of Knox sidling up to her while Larkin joined Levi in standing near the wall, but her focus was on the familiar in front of her. The familiar who had quite possibly passed on info that led to the attempted attack on her son. As far as Harper was concerned, an effort to possess Asher counted as an attack. An attack that, if successful, could have led to any number of bad things for her little boy.
Harper tilted her head. “Sherryl, isn’t it? I have some questions for you. I’d advise you not to choose silence over honesty, but I truly can’t say I’m hoping you’ll choose honesty. I’m in a real bitchy mood, so torturing answers out of you would bring me nothing but supreme joy.”
Sherryl studied her. “You’re not a killer,” she said, voice shaky but sure. “I see into a person. You’ll kill in self-defense or during combat. But you won’t kill someone who isn’t fighting back.”
Not usually, thought Harper. “But my demon will. And since I’m quite sure you’ve been working with the remaining Horseman—”
Sherryl’s eyes bulged. “What? No! I’m not working with him!”
“Alethea was. And you were doing her bidding.” Harper pursed her lips. “How did you meet her?”
The familiar snapped her mouth shut and raised her cleft chin slightly. Ooh, she apparently felt some loyalty toward the encantada. How silly and pointless.
“You really don’t want to test my mate’s patience,” Knox told Sherryl, tone silky smooth yet coated in menace. “She doesn’t have a lot of it at the best of times. Right now, she’s dangerously low on it.” But Sherryl, obviously dumb as a crumb, still said nothing.
Face hardening, Harper carefully removed the jeweled metal sticks from her hair. Then, holding Sherryl’s eyes, Harper infused hellfire into the sticks.
Sherryl jerked back a little in her seat, breaths coming hard and fast now.
“I’m going to count to four,” Harper said, calm and pleasant. “If I get to two and you haven’t yet spoken, I’m going to stab your thighs with these. Believe me, it’ll hurt like a motherfucker. If I get to three and you still aren’t talking, I will set your fucking nipples on fire and watch the hellfire eat at them—with utter joy and a mental happy dance. And if I reach four and you’re still not singing like a canary, I will proceed to torture you with a slow, sadistic meticulousness that will blow your mind. And Sherryl, you really don’t want that.”
Eyes wide, Sherryl licked her trembling lips.
“One.” No response. “Two.” Still no response. Quick as lightning, Harper rammed the flaming metal sticks into Sherryl’s thighs. The familiar screamed, face reddening, spine snapping straight. Harper didn’t pull out the sticks; she held them tight, glaring right into the bitch’s pain-filled eyes. “Told you it would hurt like a motherfucker. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. Thr—”
“Alethea came to me when she was dating Thatcher!” Sherryl burst out, eyes tearing.
Harper’s demon sighed, disappointed. It had been looking forward to setting her nipples alight. Disturbingly, it was slightly comforted by the sound of their prey’s blistering flesh sizzling. “Go on.”
“They didn’t seem serious, but she said she hoped they could have something good,” Sherryl went on, pain dripping from every syllable. “She was … she was nice to me.”
“Nice to you?” Alethea wasn’t nice.
“She said I reminded her of her when she was younger,” said Sherryl, words coming sharp and fast. “She took me shopping, clubbing, and introduced me to her friends. She was surprised when she realized I was friends with Ciaran.”
Harper gave her a look of mock pity. “She wasn’t surprised. That was why she befriended you. She wanted to use you. But I don’t feel in the least bit bad for you, since you used Ciaran. You started dating him so that you could try milking him for info on our family.”
Roughly, Harper yanked out the metal sticks and took a step back, mostly because being so close to the scent of burning flesh was not fun. Sherryl sagged slightly in her chair, fists clenched, tears dripping down her face, flesh still sizzling. “Why would you help Alethea?” Harper asked, but Sherryl was busy gaping at the blood seeping out of her charred jeans. “Why did you help her?”
Sherryl swallowed. “All she wanted was some info on what the Wallis imps did with their time. Said she was worried they intended to attack her at some point so she wanted to monitor their movements and habits. It seemed harmless to tell her stuff.”
Harmless? Harper’s demon hissed, tempted to lunge to the surface. For now, it was content to let Harper lead. “And just what did you get out of it? Don’t tell me you were just being nice like Alethea.”
Sherryl hesitated, gaze darting to the side. Would she never learn?
Harper thrust one of the sticks into the familiar’s shoulder, and the air was filled with the sound of yet more skin sizzling. She waited for Sherryl’s horrific scream to die down before she spoke. “I believe my mate warned you that I was very short on patience. Now, answer my damn question.”
Taking a shuddering breath, Sherryl squeezed her eyes shut. “She paid me for the info, and she said she’d arrange for me to transfer to her lair.”
Knox arched a brow. “You don’t like having Thatcher for a Prime?”
“It’s not that,” replied Sherryl, opening her eyes. “My ex is part of Thatcher’s Force. He’s making things difficult for me. I just want out.”
“Hmm.” Knox twisted his mouth. “Where did she go when she left her home?”
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. She just said it was someplace safe.”
“But you stayed in communication with her?” asked Knox.
“Only through telepathy.”
Tipping his head to the side, Knox said, “You must have known that Alethea was working with someone.”
“She never mentioned anyone else.” Sherryl’s brow puckered as something seemed to occur to her. “Though she did once say that she had it ‘on good authority’ that the Wallis imps would target her.”
Harper narrowed her eyes. “What else did she ask you to do?” When the familiar hesitated, Harper twisted the stick that was still stuck in her shoulder. Sherryl cried out through her teeth. “What else did she ask you to do?” Harper demanded.
Sherryl’s pained gaze cut to Knox. “She wanted to know what you are. She thought the imps might know; that you might have told them.”
“So you asked Ciaran,” prompted Harper.
Sherryl nodded. “He said that my guess was as good as his. I knew he was telling the truth. I can smell lies. They have a distinct scent. Like smoke.” She swallowed. “I got the feeling he wouldn’t have told me, even if he did know.”