Sins of the Damned (Fallen Cities: Elisium Book 2)

by Elena Lawson

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you going to tell me who Carver is?”

  He puts the glass to his lips and tips the contents down his throat, rising to pour another.

  “Can I try some?”

  He pauses but then draws out another glass and tips a miniscule amount of the liquor into it, filling his about halfway. “You won’t like it.”

  I take the proffered cup and sniff, almost choking on the acrid bouquet. Beneath the tang of alcohol there is a familiar scent. Sandalwood and smoke.

  It reminds me of Kincaid, and I take a sip. Once you get past the harshness, it’s actually not bad. I take another sip, and Kincaid seems suspicious, but says nothing, putting himself on the edge of the table.

  “I need to ask something of you, Na’vazēm.”

  I think I may already know what it is, but I ask anyway. “What?”

  He reaches over to brush his fingers through my hair, loosening more debris from the long colorful locks. I flush.

  “I need you to try to speak with Malphas again. Or perhaps, to attempt to commune with Dantalion.”

  The warmth of the liquor in my belly turns rapidly to a chill, and I squirm in my seat. I knew it was only a matter of time until he asked. I guess I hoped he would find what he needed to know elsewhere, and then he wouldn’t need to.

  “You want me to use the Scepter again.”

  It’s not a question, but still I need him to confirm it, just so I know exactly what his expectations are. I promised him my cooperation—to follow all of his commands until the end of forty days. I wish I could hold on to the belief that things have changed enough between us that he won’t hurt me if I refuse, but I can’t.

  I’m still his property. He’s still one of the seven lords of Hell.

  We have a bargain.

  Whatever else we are, it won’t be enough to erase any of that.

  “Yes. I think that’s the only way.”

  “I understand.”

  I finish my glass and push it onto the table, snatching his from his fingers and standing, leaving my half-eaten bagel discarded on the table. My reflection stares back at me from the water-streaked windowpane in the dining room. Scrawny and caged in. It’s no wonder I’ve barely managed to put on more than a few pounds since I’ve been here, there’s always something curbing my appetite. Making my belly sour.

  “I hope you also understand that I wouldn’t ask it of you unless I had another option.”

  He heaves a long breath, and I hear the creak of ancient wood as he rises behind me. Feel the heat of his body as he nears until the reflection of him appears in the darkened panes of glass. A devil above my shoulder.

  “I must find out how they were killed. I’ve exhausted every other option. This is all that’s left. As impossible as it should be, if you can see then—speak to them—it may be the only way to stop whatever it is that’s causing it.”

  My jaw aches from clenching, and I have to work to loosen my grip on the glass in my hand for fear of shattering it.

  The sharp image of Dantalion dying without having seen a single thing to cause it sends my pulse fluttering beneath my breastbone. Any minute. Any day. That could be Kincaid.

  He could drop dead right now and there would be no way for me to stop it. I close my eyes and my shoulders sag. “I’ll do it.”

  Of course, I would. Did I have any other option?

  His light touch on my arms sends a different sort of tremor through me and I bristle, gooseflesh rising on my arms. He lays a soft kiss on the base of my neck and a breath whistles in through my teeth before I turn to look into his eyes.

  “When?”

  “Once we have Devereaux. I want her with you in case anything should happen.”

  “Can’t she do it?”

  Kincaid’s expression shifts, darkening. “She’s one of the most powerful Necromancers to ever live, and she has never missed an opportunity to remind me that I have no soul. I do not think she will be able to wield the Scepter as you can. I do not think she will be able to contact my brothers.”

  …then why can I?

  I can see the question mirrored in his gaze just as much as I’m certain he can see it in mine. Neither of us have the answer.

  “Two days then?” I press, remembering that Kincaid only gave his henchmen forty-eight hours to find the location of Deveraux’s little blue house. I have to assume Kincaid won’t want to waste time.

  “I’ll have to go to Infernum myself to convince her to come.”

  He grimaces.

  “Are you going to leave me here?”

  He takes the liquor back from me and gulps some down, licking the rim of the glass. He doesn’t answer for so long that I think he hasn’t heard me, but then he shakes his head, dark hair falling low to cover his eyes.

  “I can’t,” he relents. “I should, but with the Carver loose in the city…demon-bond or not, I won’t risk leaving you.”

  My upper lip curls at the reminder. “Where is Casper, anyway?”

  I strain my ears, listening for his little bell, but hear nothing. “Upstairs in your room. I believe Artemis locked him inside.”

  A small laugh balloons in my throat. Sounds like something Artemis would do.

  “So, how do we get to Infernum? The Underbridge?”

  I wouldn’t say as much, but I seriously doubt we’ll be able to escape notice and travel hundreds of miles undetected to get there. Though the idea of seeing so much of the world excites me beyond words.

  “No. We’ll use the staff.”

  “The staff? The one that takes us to Hell?”

  Suddenly staying behind doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. I’m sure I’ll be fine with Casper and Artemis. Yeah. No need to take me with him.

  “It can also transport between Fallen Cities. Well…the ones occupied by one of the seven lords. We are part of Hell, just as an angel is part of Heaven.” He finishes the drink. “The pull of my brothers is just as strong as the pull of our kingdom.”

  My heart bleeds for him, but before I have a chance to say a word or to comfort him, the grief in his gaze vanishes. “We’ll have to pay a visit to Belial.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Hmm.” He nods, and I don’t like the way his face looks. Pinched. His body coiled like a serpent, anticipating attack. “Do not speak to him, Na’vazēm. Do not even look at him. He’s a creature of whim, and he rules his city in a much different way.”

  I’ve heard of Infernum. Of the city inhabited by a large subsect of salamanders and other fire-born creatures of the dark. They say it smolders so persistently that the air for miles around smells of sulfur and the historical temperatures have risen by several degrees.

  Lacey Lewis has said that any human who’s dared come near to it is never seen again.

  No one knows what it looks like inside, either. Even drones can’t capture clear images for all the steam and smoke.

  I find myself equal parts exhilarated and terrified to see what lies within the barriers of runed black salt and the Mississippi River that cage in what used to be New Orleans.

  11

  The days pass in a blur, and I get more and more restless every minute. Artemis found an old chess board in the basement and we’ve spent the last two evenings playing well into the night since sleep is firmly off the table.

  What’s driving me to the edge of madness isn’t even that we’re nearing the tail end of the forty-eight-hour deadline and will have to go to Infernum. No, it’s that Kincaid hasn’t touched me since that night at The Freakshow.

  I’d been so frazzled after our conversation in the dining room that all I wanted was some solitude to think it through. Not just what happened that night, but Carver, Lady Devereaux, and the prospect of meeting another lord of the underworld.

  Maybe that was the mistake, going to close myself in my room with Casper and stare at the ceiling for hours until sleep finally took me near dawn. I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do in this situation.

/>   Did I just invite myself into his bed? Did I wait for him to make another move—like a flower that only blooms in certain slants of light? Just remain shuttered up and dead to all the world unless he touched me? Ugh.

  I would not be that.

  Not for anyone, even if he does make my heart splutter and my toes curl every time he speaks.

  “Checkmate,” Artemis says, though with less of his usual mirth after defeating me. I was still learning to play, so a win on my part was rare. “How did you not see that coming? I couldn’t have made it more obvious. You could have blocked me at least four times.”

  I blink, seeing my mistakes. “Right.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  “Artemis, I swear to God if you don’t shut up—”

  “Don’t swear to Him. He doesn’t care.”

  It’s such an odd thing to say that I forget what had me so annoyed for a second and analyze the sudden hardness around his light brown eyes.

  “Are you okay?”

  He begins putting away the pieces, scooching out of the way when Casper strolls into the room and walks right over the board, knocking what remains of the still-standing pieces to their backs.

  We have a sort of understanding, this demon and me. I had a stern chat with it the other night. I promised not to roast it over a pit until it released my soul in exchange for a lifetime of head pats. It only meowed plaintively at me, but I took that to mean it agreed.

  I couldn’t stay away from the thing, anyhow. Now that I understood the bond between us a little better, it was easy to figure out why. With a part of my own soul now living inside the creature—a piece that was sliced off the moment I named him, he became a sort of extension of myself. I couldn’t keep him away from me any better than I could run from my own shadow.

  “I’m not the one pining after a demon lord like a lovesick looney.”

  I guffaw at him. “That is not true.”

  He smirks. “Isn’t it?”

  “You think I’m acting crazy?” I ask a few moments later, once Casper is curled up on my pillows and all the chess pieces are neatly put away.

  Artemis shrugs.

  “I like him,” I admit in a whisper, the words spilling out. I think they’ve been trying to be set free for a while. “More than I should.”

  “He’s all right,” Artemis agrees. “Still a psychopath, but not the worst kind I’ve ever met.”

  After the silence stretches on a little longer between us, I think of some other direction to turn the conversation, not wanting him to leave just yet. It’s barely midnight, and I’ll be up for hours still. Better with company, even if he just teases me the whole damn time. I’ve spent enough of my life alone.

  Though before I can blurt the first thing that comes to mind, Artemis sits up straighter and lifts his head. “I think you should probably talk to him about it.”

  “Huh?”

  “Look,” he says. “After what you did for me, I’m going to be honest with you because I think I owe you that.”

  I don’t like where this is going.

  “I’m not an expert or anything, but I’ve spent enough time here in Elisium that I think maybe I know a bit more about the folk that live here than you do.”

  “Just spit it out.”

  He flicks his hair away from his face and chews the inside of his lips. “He’s a demon. Like, one of the demons. The original seven. Whatever it is you think you feel for him, I don’t think it’s really a good idea to, like, you know…”

  No, I really don’t, but the shimmer of fury zaps in the air and it takes all of my restraint not to snap at him. I can’t, not when I know that whatever he’s trying to say, he is right. It hurts too much to admit it.

  “You’re pretty.” Art shrugs. “He’s, I dunno, lonely, maybe?”

  “So you think he’s using me, is that it?”

  He holds his hands up, falling back. “I don’t know, Paige. I’m just saying I wouldn’t—”

  “Well I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

  He gets up and snorts. “Sorry I said anything,” he says snidely and then leaves, shutting the door behind him.

  “This is some bullshit, Cas,” I say to the sleeping cat on my bed and shove the chessboard away. “What is wrong with me?”

  Why the hell did I care?

  I was so stupid to think that…

  What did I think?

  I let my head fall into my hands and curl my knees into my chest, trying to erase the intrusive thoughts from my skull. I knock my head against my knees, and when they still remain, I do it again, harder.

  Grit my teeth.

  Harder.

  Once more.

  “Paige,” the roar out in the hall sends tremors down my spine, and I scramble to my feet before he barges inside. He scans the room for a threat, his calculating stare landing on me, perplexed.

  Startled, I remembered how he can feel my emotions. It isn’t just desire, though I’m coming to understand that is his favorite one—the one he likes to wield against people. But he could also sense my shame at Ford’s house.

  And whatever nameless thing I feel now…

  Perhaps he knows what it is.

  “Is it time to go?” I ask, entirely dismissing his clear apprehension and evicting whatever remains of my frustration from my head with a quick count to three.

  He blinks at me, taken aback, and straightens. I don’t miss how his gaze passes over my forehead, where I’m sure there is an angry red mark at best, and some minor bruising at worst. With my new healing speed, though, it will be gone within a few minutes, leaving him to wonder if it’d been there at all.

  The violent urge to bend my fingers to snapping behind my back sends uneasy ripples through my stomach. For a moment, I’m afraid I might be sick, but then the moment passes and Kincaid holds the door open.

  “I have the location,” Kincaid says. “I was going to wait until morning—”

  “No need. I can’t sleep.”

  His lips press together. “You’ll want to change.”

  I glance down at the single pair of stretchy pants I’d managed to find in that godawful store Kincaid took me to and the wooly socks on my feet. It’s cold in the mansion at night and I usually have to double up socks to sleep and wear a sweater under my weighted blanket.

  “Too hot there?” I guess, leaning on my minimal knowledge.

  Kincaid nods, looking more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen him. “I’ll wait outside.”

  “No need.”

  I strip down to my panties on the spot, tossing my warm sweater and pants on the bed to dig a denim skirt and too-tight black t-shirt out of the dresser. I’ve been washing the clothing myself in the bathroom sink and it shows. Though I haven’t worn the skirt yet, leaving it to look clean, pressed, and new, the shirt is a favorite of mine, and so it has stiff crinkles from where it was folded and smells faintly of the soap I found in the bathroom.

  It itches a little.

  I don’t look to see if Kincaid watches me as I dress, but only because I don’t have to. I can feel his stare. It brings a light flush to my cheeks, but I don’t let the feeling fester, replacing it with false confidence instead.

  Artemis may be right, but I don’t have to give Kincaid what he wants from me. If he truly only wants to use me as a plaything to pass the time, then I can simply deny him. Problem solved.

  I would just not let myself feel anything more for him and whatever feelings I still had would wane over time.

  In the meantime, though, I can punish him a little.

  “Are you…are you trying to tease me?”

  Though, I didn’t quite expect to be called out on it…

  “No,” I tell him, tugging the t-shirt over my bare breasts, sealing off my emotions from his ability to read them the best I can. “I’m just doing my best not to be a prude.”

  I give myself a mental smack and find myself buried under layers
of insanity caused by this devil of a man standing in front of me. Dust her off, pick her up.

  Get your shit together, Paige.

  Kincaid seals his lips against a smile that makes me want to rage and sweeps an arm toward my bedroom door. “Very well, Na’vazēm. Shall we go?”

  12

  I tuck close into Kincaid’s side as he lifts the staff above the marble floor in the entryway, fisting my fingers in the soft fabric of his shirt. “Don’t let go,” he says, and I squeeze my eyes shut and bite down.

  The floor falls out from under us, and I don’t dare open my eyes as we hurtle through time and space. A strange wind kicks up my hair and finds its way up my skirt. All I can smell is hickory and smoke, my face buried entirely in Kincaid’s side. His arm tightens around my middle as we are deposited onto solid ground again, keeping me from plummeting to my face on the pavement.

  A shout follows and then the whispers that seem to follow Kincaid everywhere rise. My stomach roils, but I gulp down the nausea and force myself to stand erect, my knees threatening to give out. A sulfuric odor permeates the air and Kincaid was right about the heat.

  Already a lick of sweat forms on my brow, and I blink into the hazy air, trying to find my bearings.

  “Do you need a moment?” Kincaid asks, still gripping me around the middle while he stares at the curious Diablim onlookers with enough dangerous intent that they all begin to scatter.

  I shake my head. “No, I’ll be fine. Just need to catch my breath.”

  He loosens his hold, and I test my balance, finding I’m all right to stand on my own.

  “You get used to it,” he tells me and I bark a laugh, holding a hand to my still-roiling belly.

  “I hope I never need to.”

  I can feel his smiling eyes on me as I take in our surroundings, going slack-jawed as I do.

  Directly in front of us is a building that almost looks like a castle, but the white facade and tall arched windows give away what it truly is—or was.

  A cathedral.

  “Is this…”