by Amy Sumida
“We are all born innocent,” he tried to explain. “Our actions, be they good or bad, stain our souls. But you, Seren, were born with a soul so pure, so perfect, that nothing can stain it. Neither good nor evil. You are untouchable. Incorruptible. It's what drew Varcan to you. For a Demon—someone born to corrupt—an incorruptible soul is a comfort. A relief. Like being able to breathe freely for the first time. There is no urge to influence you because you cannot be influenced. No, it's more than that . . .” He frowned as his gaze traveled over my face. “You are a reflection of Anu. Looking at you is like looking at the face of God—a reminder of where our magic comes from.” He swallowed roughly and looked away. “One cannot stare too long for fear of going blind . . . and possibly mad.”
I blinked. Processed. Couldn't process. It was the greatest compliment I'd ever received and somehow the worst, yet utterly chaste. This wasn't flirtation, it was honesty; I could see that in the subtle shifts of his face. Sense it somehow. Through those echoes, I suppose.
“A Demon with the soul of a poet,” I murmured.
Astar smiled softly before shifting his stare back to me. “There are more monsters on Heaven and Earth than all of Hell.”
I blinked. “That sort of sounds like Shakespeare.”
“He didn't like to plagiarize.” Astar winked at me.
I burst out laughing. When I settled into a smile, Star was smiling too.
“Incorruptible, eh?” I lifted a brow.
“Have you ever heard the saying that you can't con an honest man?” he asked.
“Sure.
“Well, you can't corrupt a pure soul.” Astar's face shifted.
“What was that?” I pointed at him. “Why are you upset by that?”
Astar chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, this will get old fast.”
“Star,” I growled.
His laughter brightened. “This is strange. I can't remember the last time I felt so comfortable and yet so annoyed with someone.”
“I have that effect on people even without magically touching them.” I smirked. “Now, tell me why my incorruptible status bothers you.”
“There is a chance that you will develop Demon abilities,” he admitted. “I will need to monitor you.”
“Abilities?”
“Some of them you might not notice since they will be similar to your magic.”
“Star,” I said his name slowly, “did you make me into a Demon?”
“No,” he said firmly.
I started to exhale in relief.
But then he went on, “I don't think so.”
“You don't think so?!” I nearly screeched.
“This isn't something that's done often,” Star said crisply, straightening his shoulders and smoothing the front of his combat vest as if he were wearing a suit. “There isn't a precedent, especially not under these conditions.”
“What conditions?”
“A Demon Lord and a . . .” He waved a hand at me.
“A Twilight fairy, slash, psychic human?” I asked with a grin.
“Yes, that,” Astar said with the hint of a smile. Then he went grim, “Whatever happens, I will help you through it.”
“Oh, fuck,” I lamented. “My husbands aren't going to like this.”
“It's better than you being dead.”
I snorted a laugh. “I'm going to use that line. That should stop them from killing you, at least momentarily.”
Astaroth smirked, and I read his expression easily; he didn't think I was serious, nor did he think my husbands could kill him, even if I had been.
“When does this . . . echo thing go away?” I asked.
Astar grimaced. “Again, I'm uncertain. But it should be soon.”
“Thank you, Star,” I said suddenly. “You saved me knowing this would happen, didn't you?”
“You're welcome, and yes, I did,” Star said. Then he frowned as if he'd thought of something. “And so did Varcan. He knew we'd have this intimacy, and yet he urged me to save you anyway.”
“So?”
“So, it shows a depth of affection that surprises me.” He stared at me thoughtfully. “Perhaps you've affected him more than I thought. Varcan would rather you be connected to me than dead.”
“That doesn't seem like a difficult choice to me,” I muttered.
Star laughed. “No, but then, you are pure.”
“Stop saying that!” I laughed as I slapped his knee. “You're making me uncomfortable.”
“Very well.” His smile was slim but affectionate. “What I mean is, Varcan has broken the law and gone past the limits of Demon depravity. He has become evil, and true evil doesn't feel love.”
“So maybe he isn't completely evil?”
“Maybe not, but it's moot.” Star stood up and offered me his hand. “We must catch him and bring him back to Hell. Him and the Sakeen.”
I grimaced as I stood.
“What?” He frowned at me.
“I was gonna say that we have to extinguish him, but your version sounds cooler.” I pouted.
Astaroth, Lord of Hell, laughed with the abandon of a little boy.
Chapter Forty-Two
“You can't be serious?” Antaura growled, her glare returning to me over and over, getting more savage every time. “We don't work with fairies.”
We were in a living room now. I sat in a wingback chair next to yet another fireplace while Star stood on my right with his hands held behind his back, the cool lord again. Or Demon lord, rather. His sayadi were all there, standing at attention before us. Star had introduced us, informed them of our situation, and then announced that we'd be working together.
“Because we've hidden from them,” Astaroth said calmly. “We cannot hide anymore. And so it will be more beneficial to form a relationship with the Fey than to leave them wondering about who we are.” He looked around at his sayadi. “I'm not asking for your opinion or advice. I am your lord, and this is my decision. We will be working with Queen Seren and her team. She will give us the best chance at catching Varcan.” Astar's face shifted with sudden rage. “And I will not lose him again!”
I hid my wince at the fury I sensed in Star, far greater than what he showed his sayadi. When I glanced at Antaura, she was still glaring at me. She knew. She knew what Star had done, and she knew what it had done to us.
“Now, prepare yourselves,” Astar went on. “We leave for Earth in a few minutes. Gather in the courtyard when you're ready.”
The sayadi soldiers murmured their assent and bowed, the gathering of men and women all wearing expressions of respect and abject obedience. All but one. Antaura glared at Star and me as she walked by.
“Go talk to her,” I urged him. “Let her know this doesn't change anything between you.”
Star grimaced, and I sensed his irritation.
“You can't expect her to know that you value her,” I said gently. “Women like words. Go use that poet's soul to your advantage. I can wait here.”
Star smiled softly and held out an arm. “You're right, but you will not wait here. Come with me, Your Majesty. I'd like to show you something.”
Astaroth helped me up, then escorted me out of the living room and into a corridor. It was warm there, but not uncomfortable. Everything had an old-world feel to it, but as we passed open doors, I noticed that Star's home had influences from several time periods on Earth, every room done differently, and some in styles I didn't recognize at all. I saw a sitting room adorned with Greco-Roman statues, tiled floors, and soaring columns; a conservatory straight out of Victorian London; and a space of glossy walls, dark colors, and sharply angled furniture that looked as if it had popped right out of Tim Burton's head. Then he escorted me outside.
We left Star's home via a two-story library of polished wood and rolling ladders, stepping out through a pair of French doors that opened on a half-moon landing with steps going down to a walled garden. It had a tropical ambiance, something you might find in India or even Hawaii. Exotic flowers bloomed as
big as my head, their shiny leaves wide and pointed like scimitars, and palm trees sprouted from a lake of ferns. Birds with vibrant feathers cried out from the bulging branches of a banyan, veils of roots trailing from those branches like vines. The scent of gardenia and tuberose hung heavy in the humid air.
“This is beautiful,” I whispered.
“Thank you. I designed it.” Astar looked confident, but I sensed the nervousness hiding beneath.
“A poet and a gardener?” I teased.
“I said designed, not planted,” he amended with a smile. “You may wait here, but this is not what I want you to see.” He led me through the garden to an iron gate in a stone wall. “Prepare yourself, it isn't pretty.”
“Star, are you about to show me Hell?” I hesitated before the gate. “I mean, the rest of Hell?”
“I want you to know, to see, where I live and what I rule. I think it will help you understand my people better.”
“Doesn't Lucifer rule Hell?”
“I rule this portion of it in his name,” he conceded. “Lucifer rules us all.”
“The King of Hell and his Lords,” I murmured.
Astar's lips twisted in a brief smile. “Lucifer is like you—a pure soul.”
“What?” My jaw dropped further.
Astar chuckled. “He has to be incorruptible to control Demons.”
“The Devil has a pure soul,” I whispered, trying it out. Then I chuckled. “Go figure.”
“He's a star too.” Astar grinned mischievously. “The Morning Star. Though he shines brighter than me.”
“Don't sell yourself short. You probably give Lucifer a run for his money,” I teased. I couldn't seem to stop teasing him; he just seemed like a man who needed to lighten up—who deserved to.
“Be careful what you say in Hell, Seren,” he chided. “Lucifer's soul may be pure but that doesn't mean he isn't vain, vicious, and devious. He is the most powerful being on this planet, and he keeps his power by being merciless. He would not be happy with anyone implying that one of his lords outshines him in any way.”
I blinked. “Well, that was chilling.”
“Don't mess with the Devil.” He smirked, but I could tell that he was serious. “Now, are you ready to see my domain?”
I took a deep breath, as if diving underwater, and nodded.
Astaroth opened the gate, and we stepped through. For a second, we stood in the meadow I had glimpsed beyond the iron gate, but as soon as Star shut the gate behind us, it vanished. A wasteland of cracked red earth, bubbling pits of magma, and stone buildings stretched out before me. The sky was crimson and screams came in an unending loop like a bad Halloween soundtrack. An arena stood in the distance—like the Colosseum on crack. Roars of a wild crowd peppered the unending shrieks of pain, and monsters flew across the bloody sky. Monsters like the one in Varcan's painting.
“Huh. I always thought Hell would be cold,” I murmured. I was trying to hide the horror I felt, not that this place existed, but that Star had to live within it. I don't know why I bothered, I knew he could sense what I was feeling.
“This is not the entire landscape of Hell,” Astar hurried to say. “Only the territories of the Lords are such. Beyond those mountains lie valleys so beautiful, you would weep to see them. Most of my people live there, only coming here to participate in the punishments and fulfill their purpose.”
“Most of your people,” I said as I turned away from the horror. “But not you.”
“No, not me.” He met my gaze. “I must keep order and oversee the balancing of souls, but I have my sanctuary.” He waved an arm backward.
I looked behind us to see a gleaming palace of crimson stone rising in intimidating spires. “You really do like red.”
Star let out a bark of laughter that surprised him into covering his mouth with a hand. He chuckled past his fingers, then lowered them. “No one has ever made me laugh while I stood in the wasteland.”
“Score one for the Twilight Star.” I drew my finger downward in the air before me as if marking a scorecard. Then I remembered something. I took another look at Hell as I murmured, “Fire, laughter, roars, and screams.”
“That sounds significant,” Star noted.
“It is.” I looked back at him. “It's what Daxon saw in Varcan's head. His fears. Daxon said he saw fire, heard laughter, echoing roars, and screams. He also said it felt evil. He thought it was strange that a fairy with a fire-based mór would be afraid of fire, so he assumed it was what the fire represented. And he was right. Varcan isn't afraid of fire; he's afraid of Hell. Of coming home.”
“Yes, I would imagine that he is,” Star said grimly. “Come, let's go back to the garden.” He opened the gate and waved me inside.
“Said the Snake to Eve,” I intoned dramatically as I passed him.
And I got another bark of laughter for my effort.
“Star,” Antaura's voice ended Star's laughter abruptly. She stood on the steps, staring down at us disdainfully.
Star shut the gate crisply—the meadow returning with the fall of the latch—and sighed. “Would you care to wait here or in the library?”
“Here is good,” I gave him an encouraging smile. “Just remember, the madder they get, the more they love you.”
Minute twitches ran over his face, and I felt my expression fall. Star turned away before I could say anything and hurried across the garden to Antaura.
“We need to talk,” Astar said to Antaura as he took her arm and led her inside.
I gaped after them, unsure how I felt about this latest piece of information.
“He doesn't love her,” I whispered. “Sweet Danu, he doesn't even like her.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Antaura wasn't glaring at me anymore, and I'd take that as a win. She did, however, stand possessively close to Star, which annoyed me and then annoyed me for annoying me. We stood in the courtyard, Astar's sayadi gathered around me. We were finally returning to Earth. It hadn't been all that long, but with all that had happened, it felt like it.
Astar stepped away from Antaura and took my hand, which made Antaura start glaring again. But then the world shifted as a whoosh of heat consumed us and a rain of embers fell. Heat and humidity were instantly replaced by bracing cold, and I gasped, drawing that cold into my lungs. We had appeared in front of Drostan's house, just outside the ward. I had left my coat at the Gancanagh apartment, but it was only a few feet to the house, and the front door was already opening, spearing golden light into the night.
My husbands rushed out to me, their handsome faces broadcasting relief. Star let go of me and stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back once more; it seemed to be his go-to stance. Antaura immediately took my place, standing shoulder to shoulder with her lover if not taking his hand. I was swept up before I could say anything, covered in kisses and surrounded by warm, muscular bodies. Killian wrapped a coat around me and started to lead me inside.
“Hold on!” I pulled back and waved behind me. “We have to get them across the ward.”
The men stopped and looked at the Demons, all dressed in black combat gear like extinguishers.
“Escort our guests through,” Raza commanded his knights, then took my hand and led me into the house.
The Unseelie King's Guard marched out of the house and over to the Demons, briskly offering their hands to escort our guests through the magic. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Astar wink at me as he took Tybalt's hand. I grinned and relaxed; it was going to be all right. I was back with my husbands, alive and well. It might take a while to explain things to everyone, but it would be okay.
“I need everyone to gather in the operations room,” I said as I entered the foyer. “I have a lot to tell you.”
I was herded straight to Drostan's second living room, where coffee cups littered the tables and computer monitors added their crisp light to the chandelier overhead. It was obvious by the disarray that the teams had been going through the evidence while they waited for
me, some more anxiously than others. Hunters, extinguishers, fairy knights, and Demons piled into the room. Most of them had to stand, but even though it was Drostan's more casual living room, it was still considerably large, and we fit comfortably.
I shrugged off Killian's coat and started my speech.
Half an hour later, after introductions and explanations had been made, my group stood gaping at Astar's, with the exception of my husbands, who were glowering.
“Demons,” Killian huffed in disappointment. “Damn.”
“They're technically aliens too,” I offered with a grin. “Hell is another planet.”
