by Emma Slate
“How did you know that I’d go insane if—”
“I know about you. Okay? The Sibyl’s prophecy, remember? If you were really altruistic, you’d stay here and ease his burdens.”
“To serve him means I don’t serve the humans. I do feel a sense of responsibility for them.”
“Why?” he wondered. “They are rapists, murderers, animal abusers—”
“As you pointed out, I’m supposed to help them or they’ll suffer endlessly. So what is this? Are you trying to convince me otherwise?”
“No, I’m simply saying that altruism doesn’t exist.”
“What about good Samaritans who sacrifice themselves for the greater good? Those that march to their deaths knowing their lives will mean something if their families get to live in freedom and peace. Mothers protecting their children. Husbands shielding their wives from evil. You know nothing, Jax.”
Tears threatened to tumble down my cheeks and I let them because what did I have to hide?
“I’ve seen the barbarism of the world,” Jax said, his tone soft yet it carried on the wind to my ears. “I was part of it. I reveled in the devastation. In the hurt and the anguish. I cried in jubilation as I watched the walls of Troy fall. Those walls that had withstood our siege for ten years. I am written about in books, even if they give the credit of the destruction to someone else. The world does not know my name. They do not know my cunning. They do not know what I’ve sacrificed.
“You know nothing, Stella. You are still naive and innocent. And it will be your downfall.”
“I don’t like you,” I said.
“Yes, you do. Because I am not that man anymore.”
“You’re not?”
“I am made of stone. The parts of me that caused all that anguish and hurt are made of cold rock. All that is left of me is the desire to see it right.”
“But you said altruism doesn’t exist.”
“It doesn’t. I tore out your mark with my own teeth. I am venturing into harpy land to help you, but it’s because I wish to ease my own suffering. I will not lie to you, Stella. Not ever. Not like the Prince of Darkness who you have taken into your bed and into your body. You made a poor choice, but we are all slaves to our lust. We have that—at least—in common with the mortals you so desperately wish to help.”
I clamped my mouth shut. I was too tired to debate with immoral immortals that had been alive longer than me.
What did I have to offer except the exuberance of youth, and as Jax said, my naiveté.
“I will change the world,” I stated.
His shoulders tightened and his stone wings lifted ever so softly. He carried them like he carried his burdens. Steadfast. Sure. And knowing they were of his own making.
“Is that arrogance I detect?”
“No. Just fact. I will succeed. I will earn my freedom, and I will help humanity.”
Jax stared at me for a long moment and then his face tightened. He looked to the sky and blinked.
“They are here,” he said softly, his tone bleak.
Before I could reply, I saw the swarm descend. They came upon us fast, like locusts over a field. They landed.
“Jax?” I whispered.
“Find the Smith,” he said. “Ask for the dome. He will see to it.”
Those were his last words before a brown-haired harpy tackled him to the ground and smashed him into gravel.
I looked at Jax. Or what had once been Jax. He was nothing but a pile of rubble. Despite his demons, despite his darkness, a gasp of despair escaped me. He’d been the closest thing to a friend in this wretched, beautiful prison.
The harpies marched around me in a circle, flapping their featherless bird wings and chittering. Whistles and screeches hit my ears, causing me to cover them, wincing in pain.
I fell and curled into a ball. The ground shuddered beneath me. I closed my eyes, willing them away, wondering how I was going to get to the Smith, escape the harpies, and still ensure Lucifer didn’t find me.
The harpy sniffed, raising a beak-like nose to the air. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Her hair was matted, her skin was gray with dirt, and her clothes were ratty and full of holes. Bones that must’ve belonged to some animal from Hell circled her neck like ancient tribal jewelry. Dead, rotting birds hung from the belt at her waist, and when the wind of Hell changed, I smelled the putrid scent of decay.
“Get up!” the brown-haired one hissed. A long serpentine tongue slithered from her thin lips.
I slowly rose, regally, like a queen.
“You are high and mighty, aren’t you? The woman who shares his bed.” She stepped forward and pressed a gnarled finger to my chest.
Oddly enough, her touch didn’t cause me pain. “What do you want?” I asked quietly.
Her brown eyes were glassy, and she looked over my shoulder into a far-off place I couldn’t follow.
“Ease them,” she demanded.
“Ease your burdens?” I guessed.
She shook her head. “Not mine.” She gestured with her hand around the circle of harpies. “Theirs.”
I stared at them. They all looked the same, yet not. Tangled hair of browns, yellows, reds. Dazed eyes. Pinched mouths.
“I don’t think I can,” I stated.
She spat, gooey saliva hitting the ground and painting it red. “Lies.”
“No, it’s true. I couldn’t feel his pain.” I gestured to the remains of Jax. I would mourn him later, but at the moment my survival was more important than my grief.
Jax had been right. I was selfish and put myself first.
“You cannot ease a gargoyle’s burden, for they are mostly stone which does not live,” she stated. “Try and feel us.”
I gently opened the syphon in my mind and gasped as emotions and agony assaulted me. I quickly closed the faucet, shutting it all down.
“It’s too much!” I cried.
The harpy grinned, showing needle sharp teeth. A shark in a form I recognized.
“Ease our burdens and we will escort you to the Smith. We will make sure the Prince doesn’t get to you first.”
I blinked. Could I trust the harpies? Did I have a choice?
“Fine,” I said, my tone mulish. “One by one. Come to me.”
She inclined her head. “Wise choice.”
I lowered myself to sit on the ground, knowing after I dealt with the throng of immortal beasts I would pass out. It took days for human emotions to exhaust me. They were easier to contend with, but the power coming from the pack of harpies was something I wasn’t sure I was equipped to handle.
Opening my mind again, I waited.
I didn’t have to wait long. Their emotions pillaged me, assaulted me like Jax and the Greeks had assaulted the walls of Troy.
And like Troy, I fell.
I toppled over, not even able to curl myself into a position of protection. And still their emotions came at me.
Blinking catatonic eyes, I waited for the pain to leave my body, the torture and heartache to lessen. But it grew and grew like an emotional crescendo. Just when I thought they were finished, the Queen of the Harpies added her burdens and then I passed out.
Chapter 18
I woke up to moonlight. It bathed my face in its silvery glow. I sniffed, expecting to smell harpies on the air, but there was nothing but the scent of sweet nectar.
My body was numb and refused to move.
Something grazed my cheek.
Lucifer.
He was sitting next to me, his bat wings curled in, his chest bare. His indigo eyes glowed in the night.
“You found me,” I croaked. “The mark?”
He nodded.
I’d feel enraged later. When I had some energy.
“What were you doing in harpy territory?” he demanded.
I expected anger, resentment. But there was just mild curiosity.
“Exploring. I didn’t know.” I struggled to rise, and Lucifer helped me. My skin was warm from his touch but there was nothi
ng lust-filled about it. Just enjoyment from the contact.
“Stella,” he began. “Tell me the truth.”
“You know the truth,” I spat. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be trying to get me to admit it.”
I turned away from him, feeling like my skin had been bowed inside out. Not to mention my feelings.
Jax was still a pile of gravel on the ground, but the harpies were gone. Had they scattered when Lucifer appeared?
The Prince of Darkness noticed my gaze and his expression darkened. “Serves him right. Entering harpy territory.”
I swallowed. He’d been the closest thing to a friend in this place. Now there was no one to confide in. I wouldn’t dare divulge anything to Lucifer. We shared a bout of immortal lust. That was all. I was a prisoner and he was my warden.
“I don’t suppose it would ease your mind to know that he’ll once more be himself in a few days,” Lucifer said, his eyes glowing in the dark night.
“What?”
“Gargoyles. They’re made of stone and even if crushed by a harpy’s strength, they will reform.”
I blinked. “But how?”
He shrugged. “I don’t understand the ways of gargoyles. Just like I don’t understand the ways of harpies.”
“But you’re the lord supreme here, no? How can you not know?”
“They’re not of my ilk, Stella. They answer to me, but do not directly serve me. They are not hellhounds or demons. They are their own entities. Think of Hell like one land, but with pockets of tribes.”
I didn’t make a move to get up. Instead, I looked to the sky and stared at the moon. It was a large silver disk, suspended in a navy blot.
“What are you going to do with me?” I asked quietly.
His thigh nearly brushed mine as his left wing gently eased around me in a caress. I was instantly warmed, sheltered from the cool breeze.
“What do you think I’m going to do with you?” His tone was seductive.
Where was the volatile beast that coldly ignored me when I went against his edicts?
I grasped his hand and moved my fingers to clasp around his wrist. I turned over his palm and traced the lines and grooves that ran across his skin.
He shivered.
I brought his palm to my lips. “What am I going to do with you, Lucifer?”
“Whatever you want.” His breathing was ragged.
There, under the Hellish moon, I wondered if just maybe, there was a chance for something more than lust. More than want with the Prince of Darkness. Because what if he wasn’t truly dark at all? What if he was a slave to his own position as I was?
I could no sooner turn away from my nature, the nature of easing those who suffered, than he could turn away from devilish deals and opportunistically taking advantage of weak humans who were nothing short of desperate.
Could I feel for him? Truly? He was the cause of so much strife—strife I made my life’s work to combat.
Burdens were burdens. Pain was pain. Regardless if it came from humans, harpies, or fallen angels.
Lucifer reached up with his free hand to touch my chin. He brought my mouth to his in an achingly gentle kiss. I sank into it as my thoughts fled. There was nothing but the here and now.
With him.
He teased my lips as his tongue entered my mouth. Sweetness turned to hunger. Lucifer was a constant surprise. Calm one moment, ravenous the next. Before I knew it, I was sitting astride his lap, pressed against the warmth of his chest as his fingers tore through my loose hair.
His hot mouth ripped away from mine to drag across my flaming skin. I was shivering in delight, sinking into the feel of him when suddenly I was wrenched off his body.
“Stella!” he cried as he fell back.
Glistening black chains slithered around him. The Queen of the Harpies stepped out of the shadows, her brown eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
“Run to the Smith,” she called, pointing toward the horizon. Her shrill voice cut through the air and would’ve made a human’s ears bleed. But I wasn’t human, and all I suffered was a slight trembling in my eardrums.
Someone behind me—someone who smelled like sewage and noxious flesh, pushed me in the direction I was clearly supposed to go.
“Stella!” Lucifer’s voice was full of anguish as he struggled against the chains.
What kind of chains could hold the Prince of Darkness prisoner?
Turning away from Lucifer’s bewildered face, I ran from him. I ran for my freedom.
My lungs burned as my legs carried me through the night over miles of rocky terrain. How was I supposed to find the Smith? Was he in a cave deep within a craggy mountain like the Sibyl? Would he be the one to find me? Did he even know I was coming?
I ran until my legs threatened to give out, but just when I was in danger of collapsing, I heard the faint sounds of metal scraping against metal.
Turning my head in the direction of the noise, I let my instinct and ears bring me to the Smith. Instead of a sliver of an opening in the side of a mountain, it was a stone staircase that led deep into the earth.
I quickly descended it. The air grew warmer, like I was getting close to the core of a planet. Hot, lava, magma.
Orange and red flames appeared along the stone walls as I descended deeper. The temperature rose, so it was almost unbearable, but I knew I had to press on. The noise of the Smith pounding metal echoed in my ears. I turned down the spiral stone staircase and saw a shadow on the wall. A bulky body was pounding a hammer onto an anvil.
The Smith stood in front of a blacksmith’s fire, working on an object he held between a pair of metal tongs. He was bare-chested, his surprisingly tan skin coated in dirt and sweat. He placed the object on an anvil and pounded with dedicated intensity.
I waited a moment, not wanting to disrupt him.
The pound of each strike on the metal reverberated in my bones as he worked, and my ears rang from the sound.
Finally, the Smith was satisfied. He set down his hammer, lifted the metal object from the anvil with his tongs, and quenched the hot metal in a bath of oil that burned and smoked. It was a sword in the making, and it had a short blade and appeared thin and lightweight enough that even a small child could wield it. The Smith tested the unsharpened, unpolished blade and it was already sharp enough to shave the hair off of his arm. When finished, it would be lethal…but who would wield it?
“You are the one the Sibyl has spoken of,” the Smith said without looking at me.
My heart began to gallop in my chest. Did everyone know about this prophecy except me? “I—yes.”
The Smith finally set down his newly formed blade and looked at me. His eyes were silver like the metal he formed.
“Where is the Prince? How did you escape him?”
“The harpies. They bound him in chains.”
The Smith closed his mouth. “Hmmm. Prometheus.”
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
“The chains. They are the same chains that once bound Prometheus. They won’t hold the Prince of Darkness for long. So we must be quick.”
The Smith turned away from me, and I couldn’t see what he was doing. His broad back shielded my view.
“I made this. I’ve been holding it for the day you came to me, and it appears that day is today.” He turned slowly, cradling in his hands a crystal orb mounted on a gleaming gold base.
He handed it to me.
I hesitantly reached for it and warmth preceded my touch. It was cool, despite being surrounded by heat. I stared into the crystal globe. White mist inside swirled like storm clouds and then slowly parted.
I saw a fountain in the center of the orb with a stone angel upon it and gasped in recognition.
Beastly growls and barking had my head whipping toward the staircase.
“Lucifer has sent his hellhounds,” the Smith said, his tone surprisingly mild. “You must go. Now.”
“But how do I—”
“The dome. It will take you to where you need to go.
Here…” He handed me a brown satchel, made of the finest leather I had ever seen. “To carry it safely on your journey.”
I took the bag and settled it across my chest just as a brown, short-haired beast rounded the corner of the staircase. It lifted its snout to the air, sniffed sharply and then bellowed. It looked nothing like sweet Cerberus.
“Go,” the Smith stated quietly. “Before it’s too late.”
The hellhound stalked down the steps toward me, its beady red eyes locked on mine, its lips curled in an angry snarl. My heart tripped in fear.
I shook the crystal dome.
Just as the beast lunged for me, I disappeared, no longer in the Smith’s workshop, but in a familiar place.
I was suddenly standing at the Bethesda Fountain in Central Park.
Chapter 19
The Smith’s globe was warm in my hand when it had been cool a moment ago. I felt like the mist of the dome was swirling in my head, making me dizzy and nauseous.
Suddenly, the sensation left me and I buckled to the ground, careful to shield the crystal dome. It might’ve been a magical transport, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be broken. I set the orb inside the small bag slung across my chest. I was glad for it now as I cinched the satchel closed, my hands free.
The lampposts around the park illuminated the dark sky. Whenever Herron and I had walked through Central Park during winter and the ground and trees were covered in snow, it always made me think of Narnia and the White Witch.
It wasn’t winter yet—it had been the height of summer when Lucifer had taken me to Hell. It was early fall now and eerily quiet. No one in his right mind would be in the park in the middle of the night.
I stared at the angel adorning the top of the fountain. The moon appeared from behind the clouds and something in the angel’s outstretched hand glistened.
The first pearl?
Hope and excitement beat inside my chest.
I looked around, wanting to ensure I was alone, not wanting to bring attention to myself. The last thing I needed was park security or the NYPD hauling me away.
There was no time to waste.
