His gaze went to Mum. His jaw clenched, and he stalked past me. I started to grab his arm, but he moved too swiftly. Was he going to interrogate her himself? “Samael!”
But he kept walking right past her, into her room. A moment later, he came out with a blanket. He covered her in the blanket, tucking it around her to keep her warm. Then he stared at her, looking perplexed.
He plucked her bottle of gin from her arm and dumped it out onto the stone.
When it was done, he crossed back to me, his brow furrowed. “I’ll speak to the Holy Sisters.”
I stood in shock, silent. That was … actually decent of him. But I still couldn’t tell him what she’d told me. He’d start to think I was a demon who faked emotions. Like his last wife.
I could feel it already—the secret carving me up. The knowledge that would keep me alone.
Somewhere, deep down, I might be evil.
For once, I wanted to be alone in that little room. Maybe I didn’t feel quite as scared of the ghost now.
If I’d crawled from the soil of an old ruin, maybe that bitch should be scared of me.
21
Lila
After walking back to the castle in the cold, I’d slept a few hours, curled up under the warm blankets.
By the time I woke up again, dinner was already waiting in the dumbwaiter, and I gobbled down the roast chicken and parsnips. Mum said I was always hungry, and she wasn’t wrong about that. Maybe demons ate a lot. In any case, apparently, learning I might be evil hadn’t killed my appetite.
As I ate, I considered the fact that I was now keeping a real secret from Samael. I was, perhaps, a demon. And if I told him that, he’d be certain my emotions were all completely fake.
Mum had said secrets made you feel alone, buried under the weight. But I would be keeping this one to myself regardless. This was not a secret like I shagged the trumpet player from the Bibliotek band or I stole a stick of Mr. Wentworth’s butter and ate the entire thing in one go and then threw up or every time I use the outhouse, I’m afraid a toilet-serpent will jump out and bite my arse.
This wasn’t even a dreamt you tied me up and sexually tortured me secret.
This was the kind of secret that would put my life in danger. If this one got out—well, maybe the ghost’s warning would come true. Maybe I’d find myself with my heart ripped out and my body tossed out the window.
But this was a real dilemma now. Because I was supposed to lead Samael to Finn and Alice, and Alice knew the truth about me. If we brought her back here, she might just tell him everything.
And then where would I be?
Dead in a moat.
I washed down my meal with a long sip of wine.
This was a very fine line I’d have to walk—working against the Free Men, trying to defeat them—while keeping secrets from my allies … but maybe trying to silence our captive if it meant I’d end up dead.
I couldn’t trust a single soul, which was painfully lonely.
Now, with the sun dipping lower over the west side of the river, my time was up. I had to get ready for the Wolfshunt festival. I’d have to figure something out—fast.
I had a beautiful dress to wear tonight. It was green, with long sleeves and a form-fitting bodice. I slipped into it, and the silk felt luxurious against my skin. It had a complicated set of buttons down the back, and I strained to reach behind myself to button them up. Once I had my gown on, I packed up my little bag, and the knife I’d stolen from the kitchen. I wasn’t going anywhere without a weapon.
Just as I was grabbing my cloak, a knock sounded at the door.
When I opened it, I found Oswald standing in the hall, a silver tray in his hand. The torchlight wavered over his pale skin, green eyes, and dark hair. “For you, before you go off for a night out with the count.”
I grinned. He’d brought me another fruit tart and a steaming coffee—along with three acorn necklaces.
I took the tray from his hand. “You are an angel. Not literally. Oh, it has cream and whiskey! I wanted to try that.”
“How’s your ghost?”
I arched an eyebrow. “Do you believe me now?”
He blew a curl out of his eyes. “I believe that you believe, so it’s real enough.”
I slid the tray onto the dresser, then poured a little cream and whiskey into the coffee. “Well, last night, the ghost beat me within an inch of my life and drowned me in moat water. But the acorns bloody work, as long as I have them on me. So thank you for bringing them.” I pulled one of the acorn necklaces off the tray and tied it around my neck. “This little oak tree nut is the only thing keeping that ghost from murdering me.”
I found Samael outside wearing a suit of deep charcoal gray, finely cut. It was too cold to go out without a cloak, but he wasn’t wearing one anyway, just a bag over his shoulder. Without his hood on, I could see the entirety of his shockingly beautiful face, his high cheekbones sculpted by the setting sun. Ruddy light glinted in his pale eyes, and his auburn hair gleamed.
I pulled my cloak tighter around me. “Are we walking?”
“We’ll fly over the river. We can land by the riverbank, then walk through the tunnel. I’ve brought masks.”
“What are they?”
“Mine is a lion. Yours is a badger.”
I frowned. “There wasn’t anything more majestic than a badger?”
“The animal species isn’t really important here, is it?” said Samael. “We’re on a mission to stop an evil army. Consider the big picture.”
“And yet I notice you’re not choosing the badger, are you?”
“I was created eons ago from primordial clouds of stardust as a divine scourge of evil. I will not be the badger.”
“Fine.”
“There’s a third option, if you like. There’s a hedgehog.” He leaned down and scooped me into his arms. I held on to him, enjoying the feel of his powerful body so close to me. His fingers were wrapped around my ribs and thighs.
His magnificent wings spread out behind him, the gold catching in the moonlight. Breathtaking. As his wings began to pound in the air, we lifted into the dark skies.
“Why three masks?” I asked.
“Sourial is joining us.”
“Oh, good. I was starting to miss him.”
“You missed him?” The corner of his mouth twitched. “He isn’t fond of you, since you nearly murdered him.”
“So that’s why he hasn’t been to see me.”
“What do you miss about him?” Irritation laced his voice.
“It has been lonely in the room you locked me in.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And you think of him when you’re lonely?”
“I have thought of him once or twice. Mostly I think about the ghost of your dead wife trying to murder me. Not that you believe me, so I don’t know why I try.”
He went quiet, brooding. The jet-black eyelashes against his pale eyes really were mesmerizing. “My dead wife didn’t have a soul,” he said quietly. “No soul, no spirit, no ghost.”
My throat tightened. “How can you be sure she didn’t have a soul?”
“It’s always been known among angels. When you see a demon, there’s nothing beyond the surface, just emptiness behind the eyes. A demon can’t feel real love, or even loathing. They pretend, sometimes, to feel emotions—pretend to love, or to cry, or to be afraid. But demons live in a numb state.” His voice sounded distant, dragged from darkness. “They’re empty inside.”
Either he was wrong or I wasn’t a demon. Lord knew I had emotions.
His pale eyes pierced me. “Why are you so intensely interested in demons?”
“If we’re going to fight demons, maybe we should understand them.”
He frowned. “You don’t need to understand them. Just to kill them. I’ve seen enough to know that if you let down your guard even for a second, if you make the mistake of trusting one for just a moment, they will destroy you. They leave trails of blood and destruction in their wake, a
lways. If they have a soul, it’s twisted beyond our imagination. I know they don’t feel like we do. They don’t have emotions. They don’t have empathy. A demon could watch her child die in front of her and feel nothing. Underneath their numbness, they yearn to feel. It’s what makes them do depraved things.”
Sickness rose in my gut. “Being unable to feel doesn’t mean you lack a soul.”
Slowly, his gaze slid to me. “There is a reason you’re asking about this, and it’s not mere curiosity.”
I pulled my gaze away from him. “Never mind.” Change the subject, Lila. “Will I get to invite people to our fake wedding?”
“Your sister Alice? Your friend Finn? Any other Free Men you’d like to invite?”
“You really are tightly wound. Wonder why that is. A little pent-up frustration, perhaps?”
I heard a low growl rumble from his throat.
I peered down at the city as we flew, taking in the breathtaking view of the buildings—some dark stone, others bone white with delicate vaults and spires. We swept over Byzantine streets and old ruins overgrown with vines and flowers. It was hard not to marvel at this place and its mystery and wonders. The city was grim and heartbreakingly beautiful at the same time.
Maybe I loved it because I was born of its soil. I wanted to make Samael see it the way I did.
“Did you know that, thousands of years ago, a queen burned this city to the ground?” I asked. “Some said she was a sorceress. Because back then, men wouldn’t allow women to rule, so they did unspeakable things to the queen and her daughters. In revenge, she slaughtered them all and lit the place on fire. And now, once a year, we crown a queen in the center of the city, on May first. Someone makes a crown of violet flowers called love-in-idleness. And she gets a sword, to symbolically slaughter anyone who wants to take her crown.”
“How charming. Your heart is racing, by the way.” His deep, velvety voice made me want to nestle in closer. “It happens whenever I fly with you. Are you afraid of heights?”
No. My heart raced when I was near him for a very different reason. “Not really. But didn’t you tell me to be afraid of your reaper side?”
“I wouldn’t kill you. I might slaughter everyone else. But you might be an exception.”
Now, my heart was racing even faster. “Why?”
His eyes met mine, the look searing me. “Maybe I like your strange, rambling stories about Dovren … the way you make this disgusting city come alive.”
“Why did you take an arrow for me?”
“You’re a mortal. You break easily. I made a calculation.”
Except mortal babies didn’t crawl from the soil, and mortal women didn’t summon lethal tree branches from the earth.
But mortal, yes. We’d go with that for now.
Until we had Finn or Alice held captive, and then I’d have to figure out what the fuck to do next so my cover wasn’t blown.
We started to swoop down toward the city. “Lila,” he murmured, “I can hear your heart racing again.”
This time, there really was fear mixed in.
22
Lila
We soared down to the river, and I caught a glimpse of Sourial. On a stairwell landing, halfway up the embankment wall, he stood in the shadows. He was leaning against the door, brooding. With his arms crossed, face in shadows, I couldn’t say he seemed thrilled to see me.
As we touched down on the top of the stairs, he glowered at me, eyes glinting in the dark. “Sweet Lila. I did think you were adorable until you caused my flesh to detach from my bones.”
I swallowed hard. “Sorry about that. I’m glad you recovered.” I glanced around the darkened river. I nodded at the door—our route into the underground passage. “Let’s find the people who helped me make that poor decision, shall we?”
“Our disguises first,” said Samael, withdrawing the masks again.
I pulled on my badger mask.
While the others donned their disguises, I yanked open the door to the underground tunnel. I crossed inside, and heard the angels follow. When the door closed behind us, I struggled to see in the dark. Only a distant torch lit the tunnel. It smelled like river mud in here, and the air felt heavy and wet. Nervousness fluttered through my gut—my two worlds about to collide again. My old mortal life, and the new one among angels. And when my two worlds crashed together, bad things tended to happen. I swallowed hard.
As we walked, our footfalls echoed off the ancient stone walls.
“I suppose it wasn’t the worst thing,” said Sourial from behind me. “Being immortal, I do get bored. One century is much like another. Fucking, fighting, invading new lands. I’d never been in a bomb blast before.”
“Happy to help,” I whispered.
I took a deep breath, my nerves jangling, and looked behind me in the tunnel. Nothing but darkness; no other people so far. Distantly, I heard the pounding of a drum, and muted voices carrying through the stone. As we moved closer to the sounds of the party, a disturbing thought was clawing at the back of my skull, trying to climb its way out. What would happen once we captured Alice? Would I let the angels torture her for information? She’d betrayed me, but she was my sister.
I was dreading what was about to happen. Especially Alice—I wasn’t sure I could face her. Look her in the eye.
I closed my eyes, trying to force the disturbing thought from my mind. But there was the other worry—the one about my secret. If Alice knew, Finn might know as well.
I bit my lip, trying to work out exactly how I would explain it if Finn or Alice told them I was a demon. I cleared my throat.
“I want you both to know,” I started in a low whisper, “that Finn and Alice might seem harmless. You might think him weak, easy to break. But I swear to you, he’s a master of manipulation. He tried to turn me against you. They will try to turn you against me. You mustn’t let them.”
Was I laying the groundwork for my defense? Yes. But it just so happened that everything I was saying was also true. He was a master of manipulation. And if one of them started to talk … if they was going to tell the angels …
I couldn’t let it happen. Once we got whatever information Samael needed to fight the Free Men, I had to shut them up before he blabbed.
“I think we’ll be fine,” said Sourial, sounding half-bored.
Apprehension crackled through my nerve endings as I envisioned how everything would go.
“We need a signal,” I whispered, “so we can drag them out without anyone noticing.”
“Why do we have to tread so carefully?” asked Sourial. “We could have brought our army and just killed anyone who objected.”
“There will be kids there,” I said sharply. “Most of the people there won’t know that the Free Men are killers. Please don’t turn this into a bloodbath.”
“Bloodbath? I would never.” Sourial sounded genuinely offended.
“I remember what happened on Ernald’s boat,” I said.
“They deserved it,” both angels replied in unison.
“We only need one person, right?” I asked.
“For now,” said Samael. “Dragging out more than one person would likely attract too much notice. A signal is a good idea for discretion, too,” he said quietly. “If they have an army of demons lurking in the shadows, discretion will be important. What would make a suitable signal?”
“Everyone gets drunk at these things,” I said. “People sometimes spontaneously break into folk songs. I’ll pretend to be sloshed and sing a folk song, but I’ll change one word. The song goes, ‘Chop-a-head, under hill, the king is dead, the ravens kill.’”
“Why is everything in your country so disturbing?” asked Sourial. “Why can’t you have normal festivals?”
I smiled. “There’s something wicked in the soil.” Me. “Okay, I’ll change the last word, so you know it’s me. Listen for ‘the king is dead, the ravens sing.’”
“That doesn’t even rhyme,” Sourial scoffed.
“Good. The
n it should stand out. That will be the signal that I’m near Finn. You both slip on over. Use your magical angel skills to subtly sneak him out, and we leave.”
As we drew closer, I heard the music booming through the stones—the deep bass drum, the folk songs. I felt a twinge of nostalgia; my heart thumped at the familiarity of it all.
At the end of the tunnel, a round wooden door was inset in the stone wall. I pushed the door open, breathing in the once-familiar scent of the underground temple, soil and stone. And along with that, the smell of dozens of mortals—beer, sweat, and a bit of perfume.
Among the old columns and ruined stones, people were dancing to the music, their clothing bright as jewels. Colored lanterns were hung from the ceiling, casting gold and blue and red lights over the crowd. The revelers wore masks of wolves, butterflies, stags, and elk. Children ran around, squealing with delight. Some of them were in homemade masks of paper bags; others had beautiful masks with bright colors and gold paint.
The walls of the temple were engraved with images of skulls, and offerings and messages to the pagan god of death. Who, when I thought of it, was probably Samael. A shiver ran up my spine at the thought of centuries of Dovreners worshipping him.
In the center of the old temple, a wolf’s head was impaled on a pike, with red ribbons running down from its neck.
Okay. The angels had a point. Everything in Dovren was slightly disturbing.
But I wasn’t here for the festival anyway.
Already, I was feigning drunkenness, trying to look nonthreatening. Stumbling around, I sang to the folk songs. As I staggered around the ancient ruin, I scanned the crowd, looking out for any signs of Finn. He was taller than most, with a lumbering gate and golden hair.
I walked further into the crowd, moving between columns. When I saw a flash of flaxen hair in the distance, so pale it was almost white, every muscle in my body constricted. Alice’s hair hung like a white flame down a dress of deep green.
Traitor.
Rapture (Hades Castle Trilogy Book 2) Page 10
