by Bella Klaus
I glanced down at my bare chest, pulling the fabric of my jogging top together with a fist. “Where’s Beatrice?”
“Kain pulled her out of the ambulance before Kresnik breached the ward we’d placed around the building. He’s taken her to the palace for treatment.”
“With Healer Dianne?” I spat.
Valentine’s brows drew together. “Yes.”
“She left Beatrice behind.”
Exhaling a long breath, he raised his gaze to a point over my shoulder and shook his head at whoever was trying to capture his attention. “Only those with high levels of magic can use mirrors for transportation. If you were still a Neutral, the mirror would have torn your body into pieces.”
“Right.” I lowered my gaze to my bare feet.
Had I misinterpreted the healer’s actions? Maybe self-preservation was forcing her and the enforcers to go through that mirror. She’d stayed in place and performed a complicated feat of magic on my heart, only bolting when she’d finished and when Kresnik broke free from the wall and began his fiery rampage.
Perhaps she had acted out of panic but her parting comment to me about the Council killing fire users still stung. Nobody had criticized Lazarus for attacking a doctor to reach Beatrice, but she’d acted as though my use of threats to do the same thing made me dangerous. Whatever was going on in her mind, she was definitely biased.
“Where’s Kresnik?” I asked.
“When you disappeared, he shimmered away.”
“Flickered,” I said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“That’s what we call it when we transport from one location to another,” I murmured. “Flickering.”
When Valentine didn’t say anything else, I turned toward the ambulance’s open door and stepped out into the gravel courtyard, where firefighters streamed in and out of the building. Beatrice’s neighbors huddled behind the red fire engine, shivering and stamping their feet. I would have done the same if it wasn’t for the heat still coursing through my blood.
“I understood that you spent most of your life in Logris,” he said.
It sounded like he’d been reading my records. I glanced over my shoulder to find him standing at the ambulance’s door, his eyes now violet and glinting with curiosity.
“That’s right,” I replied.
“Miss Griffin?”
“Don’t call me that,” I said.
Valentine’s lips tightened. He probably wasn’t used to being chastised by a commoner.
“Hemera—”
“Mera,” I snapped.
His nostrils flared, a sure sign that I was being irritating. On his preternatural self, it was a warning that I was spoiling for a spanking. This version of Valentine seemed too uptight to put a girl over his knee.
“Your record doesn’t list you as having a father.” Valentine left his question unspoken.
My throat spasmed. Even if he hadn’t heard the news from the Supernatural Council, Kresnik had already taunted Valentine about me being his daughter. What did he want from me? A denial?
He continued staring at me as though waiting for a reply.
“Kresnik harvested every soul the Supernatural Council condemned to Hell and stuffed them inside his female followers and a bunch of unsuspecting women,” I said, my voice bitter. “Mine was a little special because he had one of his lackeys enter the realm of the gods and steal the soul of a phoenix.”
Valentine moved back. It was only a single step, but the distance between us felt like a chasm. “Kresnik is your father.”
Cold wind swirled through my hair and beneath the jacket Valentine had slung over my shoulders, making my skin tighten into goosebumps. “Yes.” I shook my head. “No, not completely.”
“Explain.”
“Kresnik could possess his male acolytes and use them to impregnate women.” I wanted to tell Valentine about the Mage King’s confession of having bedded some of the residents of Logris, such as Petra’s mother, but I clamped my lips shut.
Talking about the Mage King might lead Valentine to think I was the last person to see him alive, and when news of his disappearance spread, accusations would rightly fall on me. Any version of the old Valentine would stay silent or cover up for my murder of one of the seven monarchs of Logris. The man staring down at me was completely unpredictable.
“My biological father was the man whose body Kresnik currently inhabits.”
His brows rose. “A combined being?”
“I’m not sure how much of Father Jude remains, but Kresnik is in control.”
Valentine inhaled a shuddery breath and turned his head to the side. “Did Kresnik occupy that body during your conception?”
My throat thickened and the backs of my eyes stung with the onset of tears. What difference did it make when Kresnik was just as likely to hurt me as anyone else? “You’ll have to ask him. I wasn’t there.”
“Answer the question,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Yes,” I hissed. “Satisfied?”
Valentine turned toward me with eyes colder than the winter chill. His gaze swept down my body, lingering on the hand clutching my torn top.
My insides stiffened, and I braced myself for a dismissal.
“Miss Griffin?” A soft hand landed on my shoulder.
I turned to meet the smiling eyes of Hades’ driver. “Yes?”
“My lord requests your presence.” Her smile widened into an inhumanly broad grin. “Immediately.”
Chapter Ten
The driver looped her arm around mine and marched me through the courtyard, passing the crowd of shivering neighbors crowding the fire engines. Their gazes met mine, and a few of them nodded in greeting. Based on the longing looks some of them cast the woman stealing me away and the vampire trailing behind us, they probably thought I was being whisked away for a night in a hotel or something equally as luxurious.
Only the stars, the vehicles’ headlamps, and streetlights from the courtyard’s far wall illuminated our path, but the sound of our footsteps crunching over the gravel grated on my ears.
“Let go.” I tried yanking out of her grip, but it was tighter than death, leaving me having to jog to keep up with her long strides.
Grinding my teeth, I glared up at the driver. “I’ve just been attacked by Kresnik and my friend is critically ill. Can’t I see him tomorrow morning?”
“His patience wears thin,” she said in the kind of eerie voice that belied her youthful appearance, her cheerful demeanor, and even her sex. “You were supposed to have met me outside the Lamia palace. There will be no more excuses.”
“I suppose you tracked me here with the reaper cloak,” I muttered.
“Correct.” We stepped out of the courtyard into the Causeway, a tree-lined road running through the Common, leading down to Wimbledon Village.
Her limousine stood parked on the left with its headlamps on. The moon reflected on its black surface, and my vision swam, making my mind drift to the legend of Kharon, the ferryman of Greek mythology who transported souls across the river Styx.
My skin tightened and my insides rippled with nausea. I didn’t have the mental bandwidth to deal with Hades right now, and after being attacked by one ancient being, the last thing I needed was to be abducted by another to meet a lascivious Greek god who saw me as his latest conquest.
“What if I offered him two dinners at a later date to make up for this one?” I injected as much sincerity into my voice as I could muster.
The corner of her lip curled into a smirk. “Relay your offer after I’ve delivered you to my lord.”
Valentine stepped in front of us, blocking our path, and I exhaled the biggest breath of relief.
“Unhand Miss Griffin. I haven’t finished with her.”
I clenched my jaw. We were back to using titles already? “What do you want with me?”
“I still have questions.” Valentine stared down at us as though we were a pair of unruly girls from the Academy who had trample
d through his rose garden, never mind that the person standing at my side was at least thirty thousand years old.
When the other woman inclined her head, Valentine spoke. “Kresnik made some references to impropriety between us, and I would like to know if there was truth behind those allegations.”
The driver and I exchanged a glance. Impropriety? How many years had Valentine’s libido regressed? He hadn’t been this prudish while we were courting.
I raised my left hand and flashed my ring. “We were engaged, alright?”
Valentine wrapped his warm fingers around my wrist and peered down at the diamond, his lip curling. “That is a call stone.”
Prickly heat rose to my cheeks, and I snatched my arm away. Showing him that ring had only confirmed what his brothers had said about me—that I was a disgruntled blood cow who had delusions of being a Vampire King’s fiancée.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” the driver said, not sounding in the slightest bit apologetic. “But my master requests Miss Griffin’s presence.”
“Who dares to interfere with the investigation of a monarch?” Valentine snarled.
“Hades,” I replied with a sigh. Right now, anywhere would be more better than staying here to endure Valentine’s disapproval. “We made a bargain for my freedom, and now I have to meet him for dinner.”
His gaze dropped the hand clutching the cut edges of my top. “Don’t go.”
“Why not?” I continued down the road with the driver.
“The man is a notorious womanizer,” he said, following after us into the street.
“True.” I crossed the road to where the driver had parked her limo.
“And you’re improperly dressed,” he added.
“His Majesty will supply Miss Griffin with appropriate attire,” the driver said, her voice lilting with the kind of amusement a cat might get from batting a catnip-infused toy.
I rolled my eyes. Valentine wasn’t getting riled up out of worry for me. He probably didn’t want Hades associating with his… What on earth was I to him but his murderer? Based on his reaction to the ring, he certainly didn’t consider me his fiancée or even his lover.
“Do you think I could have a soak in his tub before we eat?” I asked.
The driver offered me a warm smile. “I don’t see why not.”
“What?” Valentine growled. “Miss Griffin—”
I whirled around, meeting his eyes, which were still bloodshot from his encounter with Kresnik. “Are you worried about my virtue?”
He glowered down at me. “Despite appearances, I am concerned for your welfare,” he said from between clenched teeth. “During your time in Logris, you had few male associates outside your family and you spent your time in London with Beatrice Pala and Istabelle Bonham-Sackville. The being who demands your attention is no gentleman.”
A breath caught in the back of my throat. So he had researched me. The only way he could have known about my activity in London was from finding the records he’d kept on my movements. But what did that mean? I cringed at my own neediness.
“That’s all?” I whispered.
He gave me a sharp nod. “A young woman like you will be unprepared for the Demon King.”
My heart clenched with a pain more acute than Kresnik’s needle. That sort of blanket statement was more about depriving Hades of an innocent to deflower than any feeling that I belonged with him. The back of my eyes stung, and I blinked over and over, trying to hold back a surge of emotion.
I wasn’t that girl—not anymore.
“Are you talking about the torture room he has in Hell with the chains and floggers on the wall or the circular bed he keeps in the mezzanine of his office with a mirrored ceiling?” I asked.
His eyes widened. “How would you know about such things?”
“You need to update your records because Kresnik didn’t exaggerate, and Hades isn’t the only monarch in Logris capable of debauching young women,” I snapped. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get this dinner over with so I can go and see my friend.”
Any version of Valentine would have snarled and forbidden me from entering that limousine. This one just set his jaw, narrowing his eyes as though what I said just confirmed every terrible thing he’d heard about my motives.
A cold wind shot down the Conduit, blowing hair into my face and chilling the outer layer of my skin. All the heat and anger that had built up from trying to escape the hospital room faded, leaving me with a heart that had curled into a ball tighter than an armadillo.
“Time to leave, Miss Griffin.” The driver opened the door and swept an arm toward the limousine’s interior.
I stepped into the vehicle’s warmth, not bothering to cast Valentine a final glance. He would have grabbed my arm if he wanted me to stay with him or felt strongly about keeping me out of the clutches of Hades. The Mera who cried and pined for a man who didn’t want me had evaporated into the ether the moment I came into my power.
Settling into the leather seat, I jerked my head away from the window and stared at the array of cold drinks from Logris and the Human World on the counter. I refused to turn around to check if Valentine was looking at me and settled my gaze onto an insulated cup with a copper exterior. Smoke drifted from a hole within its lid, carrying with it the scent of hot chocolate.
After the driver closed the door and walked around to her usual seat, I leaned forward and tapped on the divider. “Excuse me?”
The metallic object whirred down, revealing her cheerful face. “Yes?”
“Where was this hot chocolate made?” I raised the cup.
“You’re trying to work out if drinking it will condemn you to a lifetime in Hell.” She started the engine and reversed down the Conduit.
“No,” I lied. Without meaning to, my gaze darted out of the tinted window, where Valentine stood on the street, staring down into the limousine’s interior.
Our gazes met, but it was too dark to see his expression. Not that it mattered because his inaction was a sure sign of his lack of interest. Inhaling a sharp breath, I pulled the cap off the copper cup and examined its contents. A thick blob of cream floated atop the darkest and most cacao-rich hot chocolate imaginable with a topping of milk chocolate flakes that were just starting to melt.
My mouth watered, and I met the driver’s smiling eyes in the rearview mirror. Hades had tricked the woman he’d kidnapped into eating pomegranate seeds grown in Hell. I wasn’t about to become the first woman hoodwinked into a lifetime in the purple dungeon with a cup of hot chocolate.
“Was it made in Logris, then?” I asked.
“That rule only counts if you consume the food in Hell,” she said. “Otherwise demons would flood the human food supply with produce grown in our realm and bolster their harems with hordes of unsuspecting victims.”
“Right.” That actually made a lot of sense. As unfair as the Supernatural World could be, there were always rules in place that prevented the widespread abuse of power.
I took a sip, letting the rich and thick and creamy chocolate slide on my tongue. Whoever made this had ground hazelnuts into a powder as fine as the sugar and cacao and blended it with thick cream to make what I could only describe as molten Nutella. Hell, it was better than anything I could buy in the supermarket, Fortnum and Mason, or even the finest coffeeshops of London.
“Feeling better?” the driver asked.
I took a longer sip, this time letting the nutty chocolatey goodness engulf my senses and transport my spirits into a higher realm. This drink had to have been made in Hell. It was molten ecstasy, made to ensnare the taste buds and repair even the most shattered of hearts.
“Ask me again when I’ve finished,” I murmured into my cup.
By the time the driver marched me out of the limousine, through the underground parking lot, and into the golden elevator, I could barely feel my feet. Even the thought of naked sushi no longer made me want to bolt—as long as I was the one wielding the chopsticks.
One o
f the three dog heads etched on the elevator wall opened an eye, looked me up and down, and dismissed me with a snort. Perhaps he was checking for signs of Macavity.
The doors opened into an Olympic-sized swimming pool surrounded by columns of marble. Statues of Greek gods stood on its mezzanine level, seeming to stare down into the water. Illumination came in the form of a blue ceiling depicting a cloudless sky that reminded me of Kresnik’s vision.
At the far end of the pool stood a pair of nymphs, both even paler than me but one had hair as blue as the water and the other’s was a cascade of white foam. They both beckoned me forward.
I turned to the driver and frowned. “What’s going on?”
“The guest bathroom is currently occupied, so my lord offered you the use of his own,” she said.
My eyes narrowed. “With him in it?”
She placed a hand on the small of my back and gave me a gentle shove out of the elevator. The doors closed behind me, and I walked around the pool toward the nymphs. An evening fending off Hades was still better than Valentine’s accusation-laden questioning.
“I’m Leuce,” said the white-haired nymph. She hooked a thumb at the blue-haired companion. “This is Pallas.”
Still clutching the cut edges of my top to my chest, I inclined my head. “Pleased to meet you.”
Pallas gave me the widest grin, her aquamarine eyes sparking with mirth. “Karen says you wanted a bath before you bed our master.”
“It’s only dinner.”
Pallas smirked. “Same thing.”
I cleared my throat. So far, I’d fulfilled two out of the three meals. The first had been the time I’d sat at his coffee table and eaten my fill of shortbread in his office and the second was the breakfast we’d shared the morning after he’d locked me in the guest bathroom for refusing his invitation for naked sushi.
There was no point wasting my energy convincing these two of my intentions. It didn’t matter what I said to them if Hades was in seduction mode.
“Actually, a bath would be great.” I glanced at the tiled space behind the columns and found a pair of doors, one of which I assumed led to a dressing room. “Before I get undressed, could you confirm there’s a selection of clothes I can wear?”
