The Last Slayer by Nadia Lee

Semangelaf asked.
    “Nowhere to be found.” The corners of Apollyon’s cherry lips turned downward, but there was a glint in his eye that made me shiver.
    “Are we expecting anyone else?” I whispered to Andersen. This was so not what I’d signed up for.
    He looked somewhat at a loss. “Those two weren’t supposed to be here.”
    Maybe we could ask them to leave.
    Swain had recovered his aplomb and was shaking hands and posturing about, calling them honored guests and so on. It looked like their leaving wasn’t going to be an option.
    So we had three demigods instead of one. Semangelaf, Nathanael, Apollyon—all names of ancient angels. Interesting. But of course none of the names were real. Every member of the Triumvirate of Madainsair was flawlessly beautiful, divine in his presence and aura. But it wasn’t a beauty that would stir a poet’s soul. It was a beauty that terrified.
    Something about Semangelaf’s and Nathanael’s appearance tickled me mentally, and I realized that they reminded me of Ramiel, post-hunt trespasser and dream invader. But to conclude that he was a dragonlord seemed preposterous. For one thing, I couldn’t imagine what would prompt a being that was the equivalent of an emperor to personally appear at one of my hunts. For another, dragonlords aren’t incubi, and only incubi can invade a person’s dream. The idea that one would agree to owe an incubus a favor just to come mess with me…well, it was ridiculous. I might be a good hunter—okay, a great one—but I wasn’t that important in the grand scheme of things.
    Maybe it had been an incubus disguised as a dragonlord. I didn’t actually know if they could do that, but it seemed to be the most plausible explanation at the moment. I made a mental note to research the matter.
    Andersen took a step closer to the dragonlords, hands held out in what I’m sure was supposed to be a sign of reassurance. “Your, uh, lordships, before we go any further, we just need to make sure there’s nothing dangerous.” Thankfully, Swain moved back with his entourage.
    “Do you believe we bear ill will toward our…hosts?” Semangelaf’s voice was as cold as the rest of him, as sere as an arctic landscape.
    “It’s just our procedure.”
    Semangelaf spread his hands, mimicking Andersen’s gesture. “As you can see, we are without our swords. Though we still have magic, of course.”
    Andersen’s chin came up slightly. “I should tell you that we’re warded against it.”
    Apollyon laughed. The sound radiated so much power, the air around us rippled. I shuddered, and Valerie and other staffers from the firm swayed on their feet, drunk from the magic. It sizzled, and even Andersen and Co. looked affected.
    I leaned in close to Andersen and muttered, “Let them come.”
    “But we need to secure—”
    “You felt what just happened, didn’t you?”
    His eyes answered my question.
    “That was just a fraction of their power. If they want, they can destroy us all without even blinking. Choose your battles, know what I mean?”
    “It’s my job to make sure that—”
    I sighed. “Ask them to make an oath not to hurt anyone during their visit.”
    He gazed at me for a moment, then turned to Semangelaf. “Swear that you won’t hurt anyone during the visit.”
    It was Nathanael who spoke. “We so vow. You mortals are safe.”
    Andersen scowled, but their promise was good as far as I was concerned. Magic has restrictions. One is that magic wielders must keep their word or lose some of their power.
    I lowered my voice. “What does Swain want with them?”
    Andersen’s expression was naturally tight. Now it looked like someone had bolted it to his face. “That’s classified.”
    “I need to know.”
    He hesitated and said, “He’s going to ask for a dragon.”
    “Why?”
    “To learn the secrets of their longevity.”
    I could’ve told Swain the answer: magic. But he undoubtedly wanted something he could pump out of factories, and