Every instinct in him protested at the idea.
No.
Peony was his to save.
The shadowed man strode into the room and laid a comforting hand on Selene’s shoulder. “We can go after her.”
Selene placed her hand over the shadow man’s. “I can’t go to Inferno.”
The stranger’s face came into view briefly, and Dru gasped. Azrael cursed.
“You’re meant to be dead!” Yael growled. “I cut your fucking head off.”
The shadow man was tall, with dark-brown skin and eyes that glittered like citrines. Desert winds and the scent of sand reached Z, reminding him of ancient worlds long forgotten.
He’s a sorcerer.
“I haven’t been decapitated recently, I can assure you.” His accent was clipped, like English was his hundredth language.
“Recently?” Seraphina asked.
That glittering yellow gaze rested on the dark-skinned angel. “It’s happened before once or twice.”
And yet the demon lived.
“You mean you survived?” Yael demanded.
“You must be thinking of my brother, Set. I heard that he recently lost his head over a few trinkets.” He chuckled darkly.
Z was sluggish, had no idea what was going on. Wait. Set? As in, the Egyptian god? That meant that the man before them was...
“You’re Osiris?” Raze asked, one dark eyebrow arched.
The man gave a regal tilt of the head. “In the flesh.”
They were standing before a god—well, a deposed one, but a god nonetheless. As far as Z had been aware, most of them had been destroyed during the Great Culling. A few famous deities had survived, like Hades and Kali, both incredibly hard to slay.
“Enough!” Selene spat. “We must rescue Peony. Now.”
“We were planning on going tomorrow.”
Selene frowned. “Tomorrow may be too late.”
“Why?” Azrael asked.
“Because they can’t learn who her father is, or they’ll kill her.”
Chapter 28
Godric stood in the doorway of Peony’s room. “Come, walk with me.”
She didn’t want to leave the confines of her space, to have to deal with the reality of a place where brutal rape was so commonplace that a healer had been permanently assigned to the harem. And where the women of the harem had become accustomed to it.
“I would prefer not to,” she replied wearily.
She’d spent the night monitoring Milly, despite Lady Eramine saying it was unnecessary. But she hadn’t wanted to leave the demon alone, in case whoever had raped her came back for seconds.
And what would you have done? Hit him over the head with your medical bag?
She could have touched him. Just a single delicate stroke of her finger over his exposed skin, and he would have died in brutal agony. Partial repayment for what he had done to that girl. But Peony wasn’t a murderer, couldn’t break her oath. And nothing could ever really make up for what had been done to Milly.
“It wasn’t an invitation.” Godric shot her a look that was hard to decipher, and she shivered at his emotionlessness.
“Fine.” Peony stood, feeling old and worn in her hospital scrubs. She’d decided her jeans and sweater combination were ill-suited to her new home—it was better to be prepared in a place like this, rather than not.
Godric exited the room, holding the door open for her. She walked by him, wondering why her skin didn’t itch the way it did around his uncle.
They’re both evil. They both allow these atrocities to occur.
He was just as bad, yet her instincts said he was no direct threat to her.
“Let’s go.” He shut the door, then strode away, toward the communal area.
“I cannot have sex with you,” Peony blurted. “If what you do around here can even be called sex.”
The demon stopped short. “Excuse me?”
Peony planted her feet. “If you try to have sex with me, you will die.”
Godric scrunched his face up, then laughed. “I do not want to fuck you.”
Something like embarrassment hummed through her. “I don’t understand.”
“I want to show you something.” He held up a gloveless hand. “And no, it’s not my cock.”
Closing her jaw, because it had begun to hang open at some point, she followed him silently through the communal area and out the double doors into the hall.
He gave her a sideways look. “Follow me, and do not talk to anyone.”
She nodded, not understanding what was happening, but prepared to fight for her life if need be.
But I don’t feel scared.
She couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t that she trusted Godric—Hell, no—but she didn’t feel in danger from him. More, she felt like she entertained him somehow.
They walked in silence, passing numerous Mortus men who stared at her with a mixture of lust, hatred and rage. She followed Godric’s instructions, and kept her eyes locked firmly on the stone floor in front of her, speaking to no one.
The stares made her feel dirty somehow, and in need of a shower.
As they continued through the halls, Peony wondered how she could ask about the treatment of the females in the harem. Godric was royalty; surely he could do something to stop it?
He probably treats women the same way, though.
Hell, he might have been the one responsible.
Something in her rejected that thought, even though she had no reason to do so.
He’s evil, you can feel it as a pulse against your skin.
Eventually, they stopped in a corridor empty of people. Peony looked up at the walls, which were engraved with the same strange script she had seen on her first day in the Mortus den.
Godric stood at her elbow, his expression serious and lacking the mocking quality she had come to associate with it. “Can you read it?”
She looked at him, surprised. “You want me to read that?”
“You tried to before.”
With her worry over Milly, she’d forgotten how some of the text on the walls had swum together to form words. “I don’t know the language.”
He leaned forward, his eyes intense. “Just try.”
For some reason, that look reminded her of Dru—they were both forceful to the point of zealousness.
“Why?”
“I’m curious.”
“If I do this, what will you do for me?” Peony asked.
He barked out a surprised laugh. “I don’t have to do anything for you. You’re our prisoner, in case you had forgotten. One my uncle wants to kill.”
She glared. “Let him try.”
Godric reached out and took hold of her arm, hand touching only her sleeve. “Don’t challenge him. He’ll kill you in your sleep.”
She rolled her eyes. “Someone already tried that.”
“What?” He let go of her arm.
“They failed, in case you didn’t realize.”
“Who?”
Peony shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Lady Eramine stopped it.”
“Lady Era—wait, she stopped it?”
“Why, do you think she was the mastermind behind it?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Godric muttered. “Grandmother is very sneaky. And she hates cambions with a passion.”
Peony stood stock still. “She’s your grandmother?”
“And the king’s mother.”
So, Lady Eramine was connected at the highest levels, and she hadn’t put a stop to the horrors, either. Why could no one see this was wrong?
Because they’re evil.
But even then, there were boundaries, surely. Especially with your own kind...
“Are you going to just stand there looking dumbstruck? Or are you going to read?” Godric said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Fine.”
Peony had never been very good at languages. Her sk
ills had been in biology, chemistry and mathematics, and, later, medicine. She hadn’t had time to learn another language once she’d started medical school. Still, she stared at the strange text, to humor the demon beside her. Maybe, if he thought she was making an effort, she could ingratiate herself, and then try to request help for Milly.
You’re a dolt.
No, she was an optimist.
Ignoring her inner voice, she focused on the circular text, frowning as some words began to make sense. Not all of them, but enough that she could focus on different passages on the wall.
‘The children of Satan...’
‘Death to our enemies...’
‘My brethren in the sky do not understand...’
‘Love and hate are just two sides of the same emotion...’
‘The day will come when the king is overthrown...’
“What is this?” Peony whispered, overwhelmed by the strange language. How could she even understand it? “Where does it start?”
“It’s everywhere,” Godric said, his voice quiet. “It was carved into the walls long ago—supposedly by our female ancestor.”
“Female ancestor?”
“Everyone knows we are the children of Satan, but we did not spring fully formed from his forehead, like the goddess Athena from Zeus’.”
“Do you know who it was?”
“There are rumors, of course. And the text, which I think makes it obvious. But there are those who deny it, and the prophecies.”
“These are prophecies?” Her eyes narrowed. “Wait, can you read them?”
He shook his head. “No. No one here can. But someone has had some of them translated years ago.”
She bit her lip.
Godric stared at the wall, his face expressionless. “It’s ancient angelic.”
How on earth was she able to do that?
“Why would the Mortus have ancient angelic on its walls...”
No.
That wasn’t possible.
“You’re saying you think the Mortus were born from the union between an angel and Satan?”
“Took you a while to piece that together,” Godric muttered.
“But the Mortus are evil.”
He tapped his fingers against his thigh. “So are some angels.”
She wanted to argue that point, but she knew her mother thought the same. However, the only angel Peony had known was good, the kind of good she’d always wanted in her life. She couldn’t picture Z having had a relationship with a demon, let alone with someone as notorious and destructive as Satan.
“I have photographed many of the walls,” he said. “I will give you some of the images to study. Just don’t tell anyone you’re doing it.”
“Why?”
“Because my uncle will want to kill you even more.”
“Why hasn’t he done it already?” Peony asked, curious despite herself.
“I have convinced him not to, for the moment.”
“How kind of you.” Each word dripped sarcasm.
His mouth quirked in a sardonic smile, then he turned and began walking back in the direction they had come.
“You said something about prophecies?” she asked, her mind still reeling.
“Oh yes, we have a great many. My favorite is how a demon from three worlds will come to the Mortus, dethrone the king, be crowned in front of angels and bring forth a new age.”
She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. “You don’t think that’s possible?”
Just the angel part alone sounded crazy.
No angels would step foot in the Mortus den. She considered Z: he’d been as kind to her as he could be, given their differences and his position as a slave, but he had still hated demons. Even he would never come here.
Godric smiled, the expression filled with malice. “Well, it hasn’t happened yet, and the Mortus have been around almost as long as Hell has existed. But who knows? Tomorrow could be our lucky day.”
Chapter 29
They arrived back at the harem’s communal area to find Lady Eramine in the path of the king, deliberately blocking him.
“Mother, move.”
The duchess gave the monarch a glacial stare. “Did you forget your manners in the last day or so?” She oozed disdain.
Peony winced in sympathy. Only a parent could deliver that kind of withering comment without blinking.
The king drew his shoulders back. “I am the king. I gave you an order.”
“And I am your mother. I gave you life. I can take it away just as easily.”
Ouch.
“Uncle Alvin was never Grandmother’s favorite,” Godric whispered, almost like they were at a show and he was explaining an important plot point.
“Then who was?” she asked.
He gave her a sidelong glance. “Uncle Clement, but he’s been missing for decades.”
“I didn’t think parents were meant to have favorites.” At least, that’s what she’d been told. Being an only child, she had always been Selene’s favorite.
He gave a soft laugh. “That’s hilarious.”
Godric’s chuckle drew the attention of the king and Lady Eramine. They froze for a brief instant, then turned matching glowers on him.
“What are you doing with that?” the king demanded.
I must be ‘that’. I’m a person, damnit!
Funny how she didn’t appreciate being reduced to nothing more than a thing. It’s what Trick and the Infernus had done to Z, and she’d hated it then, too. She experienced a soft pang at the thought of the angel—she hoped Sylvester had kept his word and not hurt Z, and that Trick hadn’t cut the angel’s wings off to aid in his healing. Then again, none of that would matter when it came to Dru: for her, it would be simply about whether she thought the angel was a threat to the guild.
Peony decided not to contemplate that eventuality: Z was alive and all was well.
There. Positive thinking 101.
“We went for a walk,” Godric said smoothly. “I was trying to determine if she had any idea as to her father’s identity.”
They hadn’t spoken of her father at all, but she wasn’t about to quibble with their alibi.
Lady Eramine opened her mouth to speak, but King Alvin got there first.
“It is of no consequence who she is related to,” he growled. “She is female and a cambion. Unless we can work out how to breed her, then she is of little value to us.” He met Peony’s stare. “You’re on borrowed time as it is, girl.”
Anger flared in the pit of her stomach. Women were worth more than their value as breeding stock.
She was worth more.
The king turned back to Lady Eramine. “Why haven’t you sent the girl as I requested?”
“She is still not healed.”
“That is irrelevant. She has a duty to perform.”
Lady Eramine looked around the communal area—her frosty gaze so like Godric’s that the familial relationship seemed obvious now—as if to determine that they were alone. “You damaged her badly, Alvin. A broken skull and spine, plus damage I could not heal. She had to be stitched back together by your abomination.”
Alvin’s chin went up. “She is the sister of traitors. It is an honor that I chose her as the receptacle of my seed. She could be the mother of the next Mortus king.”
He is responsible?
The slow-burning anger that had been kindled within Peony grew hotter and hotter, until she could barely think straight. He’d tried to hit her seconds after meeting her—gods knew what he’d tried to do to Dru—and then he’d abused Milly mercilessly. Who knows what else he’d done over the years? Or what he would do in the future?
“You can pick someone else for tonight,” the duchess said. “She needs time to heal. She still has sutures.”
Peony could sense Godric’s surprise at his grandmother’s refusal of the king’s demands.
“I want her.” Alvi
n sounded petulant, like a child whose favorite toy had been confiscated due to bad behavior.
“You can’t have her.” Peony strode to stand in front of the king, dodging around Godric as he tried to restrain her. She crossed her arms over her chest and stood next to Lady Eramine, who reacted to Peony’s statement with a slight curl to her lip.
“You dare to forbid me anything?” The king’s face was caught between incredulousness and rage.
“I am a doctor. I will protect my patient.”
“You’re nothing more than a broodmare, and you can’t even do that!”
He spat at her, the thick globule hitting her in the face. Nauseated, she wiped the body fluid away with her sleeve, her anger ramping up even further.
“If you touch that girl, I will kill you.”
Instantly, she regretted her threat. I am not a murderer! I will not break my promise!
She would not become like Dru, like the king,
But her mother’s voice rang out in her mind. ‘If you watch a horror happen, and don’t stop the perpetrator, you are just as bad as that horror.’ That’s why Selene meted out her own brand of justice on the rapists and abusers she could identify from victims in the ER.
“You wouldn’t even touch Lord Farcon,” the king said. “Your threat means nothing.”
Peony balled her hands into fists.
He was innocent.
Well, innocent of any crimes Peony knew of. He was probably just as horrible as the king, though, if all male Mortus demons were like him.
The king turned on his mother. “Now, get me the girl.”
“No.”
Alvin backhanded Lady Eramine in the face, the blow so quick Peony didn’t have time to intervene. Shock flared in the demon’s eyes and she dabbed at her lip, which had begun to bleed. Her expression gave no evidence of the pain she must be suffering.
“Uncle—” Godric stepped forward, his hand outstretched toward his grandmother.
Alvin didn’t look at his nephew, his anger still focused on his parent. “Bring me the girl, Godric, or that will just be the first round of punishment meted out to your grandmother.”
Lady Eramine’s head tilted back. “You would dare to ‘punish’ me? After all I have done for you?”
“Done for me? You have done nothing for me, just for the good of the race.”
Benevolent Passion Page 15
