Page 86 of Bad Witch

“Garan. Lucifer organized it.”

I frowned. “How?

War shrugged. “Garan’s on his own down there, well, besides Tregan, and I can’t imagine that terrifying fucker is great company. Lucifer gave him a phone and a laptop so he has a way to contact others.”

Tempest turned to me. “They have Wi-Fi in Hell?”

I grinned at the look on her face. “Yeah, and cell service.”

“How do we get this call going?” War asked her.

She clicked the link, and a gray window appeared on the screen, a little blue circle spinning as it connected. A moment later, the screen turned black.

No, it was just darker on Garan’s end. Something moved on the screen. Garan, he’d stepped back. The black had been his cloak. He stood in front of us, his face obscured by a hood. And now that he was no longer filling the entire screen, we could see an orange-yellow glow from hellfire flickering behind him against a stone wall. The cloak hung open, revealing his red skin and stomach roped with muscle. He wore dark pants, and a knife, roughly two feet long with a curved blade, was strapped to his waist with a thick leather belt.

“Garan,” War said. “Thank you for agreeing to talk with us.”

He made a deep sound that was either a growl or a grunt. “Lucifer asked it of me.”

Tempest jumped at the harshness of his voice.

“We have a couple questions⁠—”

“Who does the female belong to?” he asked, leaning forward. His face was still concealed by his hood, but he could obviously see through it.

He’d seen Tempest well enough. I slid my hand up her back and curled my fingers around the nape of her neck. “She’s mine,” I said, my voice laced with all the dominance and menace I could muster.

Tempest stiffened, and I massaged her neck, hoping she’d understand why I’d said it. Yes, it was true, she was mine, but she didn’t know that. She’d convinced herself we weren’t serious, that anything more was out of the question.

Garan grunted again. “Ask your questions.”

“We’re looking for weapons, specifically weapons forged in Tregan’s fire. They’ve been concealed,” I said. “This is a long shot, but we wanted to know if there’s any way you could track them from where you are?”

“I have forged many weapons since my banishment.” He leaned in again. “Why don’t you come here and I’ll make you some.” The hood slipped back, revealing his square chin and mouth. Garan smiled. “Bring your female with you.”

Garan had been banished thousands of years ago for one simple reason: he enjoyed murder far too much. As one of Lucifer’s earlier creations, he was special to our king, but he also quickly became a liability, killing indiscriminately. Lucifer didn’t have the heart to put him down, so he banished him to the deepest pits of Hell to watch over Tregan.

“It would take us too long to journey to you, Garan,” War said. “We believe the weapons are here, above ground, and much easier for us to acquire. Time is of the essence in this situation.”

He laughed, a deep grating sound. “Do I smell fear, alpha of the hellhounds?”

War jerked forward, planting his hands on the table with a snarl. “I fear nothing, demon. Definitely not you. You have been ordered by your king to give us this information. Does this refusal mean you have chosen to defy him?”

Tempest had pressed back against me, and she was trembling. I slid my arm around her, holding her to my side. “It’s okay,” I said low, for her ears only.

She nodded but stayed where she was.

Garan stared back, well, I assumed he was since only his mouth was visible.

The massive demon grinned. “It is possible to get the information you want, but I want something in return.”

“What is it you want?” Warrick said.

His head tilted to the side. “Is your female a witch?” he asked, and by the way his chin had angled, he was talking to me.

“You need to stop worrying about my female and focus on what we need,” I said, then moved her out of screenshot.

He ignored me. “Only your female can get me what I want.”