I retreated and waited for my clothes, and after the creepy demon placed them on the desk, removed the empty plates and tray, and scampered away, I changed into a new set of leather pants and a tank top. It felt strange not to have any weapons to strap to my person.
“Looks like I’m going to have to go commando. And braless. They didn’t bring underwear.” I palmed my boobs. “This is more comfortable now, but if I have to run, things might get dicey.”
“Yes, you’ll give yourself a black eye.”
I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.
Cahal picked up his book and faced me. “I’m free-balling it, too. They didn’t bring back underwear after they took my clothes, and I didn’t feel like explaining. My dick and balls won’t affect my running.”
I scanned his dark pants and black shirt, loose over his muscular frame. I hadn’t noticed they were clean clothes. Then again, I hadn’t exactly been lucid when he found me in the elves’ cell.
Something occurred to me.
“Where have you been sleeping?”
He glanced back at the chair.
I lifted my eyebrows, checking his chiseled face for signs of fatigue. No dark shadows pooled under his glacial blue eyes. The planes and angles of his bone structure, almost severe with a slightly hooked nose, fit with his aura of lethal confidence. They did not, however, broadcast any wariness or exhaustion. He stood tall, well over my height, with his shoulders squared and back straight, his bearing loose and agile.
“You slept in the chair?”
“I’ve slept in many places all over the worlds. Some more comfortable than others. I’ve grown accustomed to getting the rest I need in any given place.”
“Huh. What a terrible life you lead.”
The corners of his lips pulled upward. Many would think it was the beginnings of a snarl, but I knew it was his self-deprecating humor, only expressed once he got to know someone. The guy was like a block of ice. It took a while to thaw him enough to get to his personality.
“Right. Let’s go pick a new place to stay.” I headed toward the door. “This room is some sort of joke, it seems.”
“I figured as much.”
“My old man has a sense of humor, then?”
“That’s what he could call it, yes.”
“And what would you call it?”
“Usually? Dangerous.”
Tits McGee led us slowly down the hallway, pausing halfway down as the walls around us shifted. A door disappeared, a wall appeared in front of us, and another hallway opened to our right. The demon turned that way, and I glanced back at a dead end that no longer reached as far as the room I’d just left.
“And that’s why you grabbed your book,” I murmured, watching a table appear beside me and feeling the magic thrumming from it. It wasn’t real, that wood. That flower in the vase on top of it. It was an illusion made of magic, like the majority of the Realm, like the scenarios I could create myself. Well, kinda. On my best day, I couldn’t create something so detailed. Not yet, anyway.
Cahal was right: I needed to hang around until I learned how to properly wield this magic. If the war did eventually come, and I was the one in charge of stopping Lucifer from destroying the Realm, I had better figure out how to make that possible.
The demon stopped again, and this time I reached out around me as the landscape shifted, feeling the various fibers of magic, picking them apart to see how they were constructed. Much of the hall was real—real wood, real paintings, real wallpaper or paint—but magic added the occasional door or glowing light fixture. Sometimes false walls masked whole rooms, blocking them from passersby. Or was it just blocking me?
As we turned toward the left, I unraveled it all. Plucking illusions apart was easy for me—putting them back together less so. Making them solid was a total no-go, but it was clearly possible. The illusion fell away, revealing a high-arched ceiling with chandeliers hanging down, much more fashionable than the setup in the elves’ castle. Stately furniture was arranged on a large deep crimson rug, and each wall was completely covered in row after high row of books.
“Wow,” I said, angling my head up to see the top row, where the bookcases met the edge of the ceiling. Not a single ladder to help people reach the volumes at the top, so I figured anyone working in this area had Glaciem magic. They’d need to levitate to reach.
The demon waited until I’d had my fill of looking, saying nothing about my pulling down the illusion. When I turned, it began walking again.
“Emery would do just fine in this place. His jokes would be commonplace,” I mused, revealing a hidden pocket in the hallway and the creepy little demon that hid inside—not the one that had waited on me but of the same variety. It caught sight of me looking at it and took off running. When I found the next little pocket, I ran my hand through it first, making sure it wasn’t solid. They weren’t trapping the little critters in, they were just creating places for them to retain their invisible status.
I ripped it down and then grinned when another creature took off running.
“You think that is funny, but you didn’t get the gold room joke?” Cahal asked, not even glancing at my antics.
“How is sticking me in a hideous gold room a joke? The rest of this place is gorgeous—why even have a gold room? Is it a throwback to the elves’ gaudy decorating?”
“Probably, in a way.” Cahal studied a mural of a battle as we passed, a robust demon ripping a wing off an angelic creature. Blood spurted from the creature’s back. Fire crawled along the edges of the painting, near the frame. Bodies littered the ground.
“Salt-of-the-earth people around here, huh? Sugar and spice and everything nice,” I said, leaving the next little alcove alone. I didn’t want to stress them out too badly on my first day out of my room. I would give them a chance to get used to me.
“Is only Lucifer—” I stopped when Tits McGee hissed.
“When speaking to his underlings, you are to use his title,” Cahal instructed me. “Either the Great Master, his highness, or Father.”
“Is your Great Master the only one who can create these illusions?”
“No,” it answered in a disapproving tone. “Those in the top echelons of power can construct the designs laid out by the Great Master.”
We traveled up a wide, curving staircase, and then another, nearing the top of the castle now.
“Where is Father Dearest’s room?” I asked, marveling at the great decorating and elegantly appointed halls and rooms, dotted here and there with some lovely paintings, some sexy ones, and some incredibly gruesome battle depictions.
“The Great Master occupies the Northern Tower,” it said.
“That is a change since I was here last,” Cahal said, his eyes snagging on a painting of a type of flower I’d never seen before.
“A lot has changed since you were here last, druid.” The demon nearly spat the term.
“I don’t think they like you very much,” I murmured as we crested the last set of stairs and paused.
“They blame me for things that I did not cause,” he replied.
The demon hissed softly but did not comment. “This level has access to three sets of lodgings that would befit someone of your station.”
“Three? Luc—Father Dearest was hoping for a brood of kids, huh?”
“Once upon a time, elf royalty or other members of the royal court in high standing used to visit,” Cahal explained. “After the last war, though, the castle is only host to the lesser.”
“The lesser, and then below that…you, it would seem,” the demon said.
“Oooohh, burn. Don’t worry, I won’t be moving you down to the dungeon, bud.” I winked at Cahal.
“We shall see,” the demon muttered, turning toward a section with columns on the outside of a balcony-style hallway. Beyond and down a corridor sat rooms. “Would you like me to show you to the various collection of rooms, or would you prefer to explore for yourself? Everything in this area is as it seems. Th
e pathways stay constant.”
“The pathways everywhere stay constant if you tear down the magic,” I replied.
The demon didn’t comment.
“I’ll find my way, thanks.” I turned left and started walking, then stopped when the demon trailed behind me. I quirked an eyebrow at it.
“I will be on hand should you need anything,” it said.
“Can you make yourself scarce?” I asked.
“Of course.” It took one step to the side and then looked away. I had a suspicion it still intended to follow me, just at a distance. That would take some getting used to. And it would likely chase me out of here quicker.
“Have you ever been up here?” I asked Cahal, intending to walk only as long as it took me to find a door. I’d stake a claim on the first set of rooms.
“No. The last heir took up a collection of rooms in the south section of the castle.”
“Huh.” At the end of an open hall flanked by columns and large windows looking down at the kingdom below, I found a large hearth with two double doors to either side. Chandeliers with tiny, flickering fairy lights swooped down between the doors, in front of the hearth. I hadn’t seen their equal in the palace. I wondered how Lucifer had created them, because electricity didn’t exist in this world.
We went through one set of doors, into a set of rooms cavernous enough to fit my whole house, both stories. Two rows of windows adorned the far wall, giving an impressive view of a kingdom riddled with gardens, lush little landscapes, and buildings with gothic spires. The blue sky above went on forever, even though I was almost positive a cave ceiling existed above us somewhere. When I managed to pull my gaze away, I saw the doors dotting the other side of the living space, various rooms for me and my guests. There was enough space for all of my friends, including those from my neighborhood, to come and stay. There would be plenty of room, and surely plenty of creepy little helpers scurrying around.
Not plenty of air, though. And obviously, the non-magical wouldn’t be allowed in anyway. To stay here forever would mean giving up a massive part of my life.
I stopped in front of one of the large windows and remembered the last time I’d been to the Underworld. I remembered having Darius by my side.
A pang hit my heart.
He must’ve heard I’d been taken from the elves, but he’d probably know that I was safe here. Safe from physical harm, at any rate. Even though I missed him, I didn’t need him, so hopefully he would keep working on the vampires and not attempt to do something crazy, like try to rescue me. I was the one who’d gotten us through the Underworld the first time, for the most part, and even that had been close. I didn’t want him to try to find me, get caught, and have Lucifer turn him into a hostage situation. That would just complicate everything.
Still, though, it would be cool to stand here with him and take in the view.
“I guess you get a bed now,” I commented to Cahal, standing just inside the doorway.
“It seems so.” He pointed at the door at the back of the room. “That is yours. I’ll take the room next to it.”
“How do you know?” I zigzagged though the furniture and opened the door into a well-lit room with more of the fantastic view. The colors in the room were deep and pleasing, dark and saturated. The enormous bed backed up to a paneled wall. A little writing desk faced one of the windows and couches took up the other side, so I could lounge without going into the common area.
I blew out a breath and braced my palms against my hips. The arrangement of the furniture, the view with the gothic spires, the height of the room—as though I lived on a cloud—and the decor made me feel comfortable in a way that unnerved me. All of it blended together into a pleasing sort of utopia.
This felt like my room. Like I’d been living here all my life.
“Why did you say this was my room?” I asked, raising my voice so Cahal could hear.
“Because—”
I startled and ripped my elbow away from the guy who had snuck up on me and now stood two feet away. I clearly hadn’t been paying attention to my surroundings, something that didn’t usually happen in foreign and dangerous places.
“Because,” he started again, “it is the corner room and the largest in this wing. It belongs to the person with the highest status. You.”
“It’s breathtaking.” I chuckled to myself and shook my head. “He used that gaudy room to heighten the pleasure of ending up here.”
“You get the joke.”
“It isn’t a joke. It’s a lure.” I shook my head again. “And it’s a good one.”
Four
Penny grabbed Emery’s arm as they slowed in front of the gate to the Underworld. Dead flowers and twisted vines lined either side of the path before it descended into a hazy black maw that threatened to suck travelers in if they got too close. Intense magic seeped into the air around them, pulsing with menace, violence, sex, and love, the mixture not as pleasing as Reagan’s brew of magic, but darker and more sinister. Beyond that maw would be an incredibly dangerous place, Penny could feel it.
She did not want to willingly walk into that.
“You’ve been this way before?” she asked, gulping, resisting the urge to take a step back.
Darius unslung a pack from his back and pulled out a torch. “Yes. Many times. It’s the safest entrance point I’ve found into the areas I usually traverse.” He handed the torch, unlit, to Penny. His normal vampire swagger, the one she was as accustomed to seeing as his suits, had been replaced with the sort of ruthlessness he showed in battle. His magic swirled around him, heady and vicious. “You can magically light this, correct?”
“Yes.” She took the torch. “How many times have you been down here?”
“Through this particular entrance—two dozen or so. There are others I’ve used, including the first area I visited with Reagan. I have business in the Edges, as they’re called. Your magic has helped me make good connections. Connections we will need now.” He glanced down at her fanny pack, one of Reagan’s old ones. Scuffed up and beat to hell, it still did the trick, holding a small fortune in spells.
Emery had a similar pack, his being newer, a designer brand, and bright red. He’d made a case for using a satchel instead and lost the argument, and then lost another argument when he suggested wearing cargo pants and using the pockets for all the spells. He did not enjoy the fashion that had been pushed on him, and his sour expression, even here, proved it. In addition to the fanny packs, they had on leather pants and sweaters, all in dark colors, much like Darius.
“If you need to use those spells, do so,” Darius went on, handing Emery a torch. They all had backpacks, but Emery’s and Penny’s were full of supplies humans needed, like food and water. Darius held all the essentials for the trip. Anything they couldn’t bring, they planned on stealing. “Refraining is best.”
Penny nodded and did everything in her power not to back away from that black maw in front of them.
“Set?” Darius’s stare was still beating into Penny.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, gripping her torch much too tightly.
“Remember, you will need to follow my lead,” Darius said. “You will need to do as I say. Only strike out when I say so. Only strike out at whom I say to. It will take all of my effort to navigate this place. You need to take my commands and follow my lead.”
“Yes, yes, I know. I heard you the first eight hundred times,” she grumbled, losing the battle of wills with herself and taking a step back.
“Hunch for all you are worth, stay behind me and in front of Emery,” he continued. “Keep your hands down. Do not make magical clouds. Do not get startled and accidentally strike out. Use your magical concealment spell for sight, smell, and sound. Do not release it unless I say otherwise.”
“I said I know.” She scowled at him.
His stare pummeled her for another beat before he nodded and turned around, facing that horrible maw. She swore she saw him take a deep breath before starting
forward. Any place that made Darius nervous was nowhere she wanted to go. But heading to a noose wasn’t appealing either, and she would’ve been pushed onto the platform if not for Reagan.
She reached back and clutched Emery’s hand as she stepped into the blackness, the two of them silently weaving a concealment spell that she then pulled around them. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath. An unnatural cold slithered over her skin and seeped into her blood, the feeling closer to fear than magic. Or was this magically induced fear? She couldn’t be sure.
Blinking her eyes open did no good. The world beyond was pitch black. She bumped into Darius’s muscled back and jostled against Emery’s front.
Something splattered against her forehead.
“Flipping flapjacks!” She released a plume of magic she hadn’t realized was ready to go. Or maybe it hadn’t been. It zipped into the sky and bloomed in the darkness, a flower of blues and pinks and purples, light in a dark place. It showered down like a firework, raining sparkling light.
She felt Darius turn, his breath dusting down on her face. She could feel his anger thrumming between them.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “Something hit my head.”
“Drops of water,” he replied, turning. “The ceiling drips. Do not do that again.”
“Once was probably plenty to get noticed,” Emery murmured.
Yeah, it probably was, especially since it was still streaking the ink-black sky.
“Light your torches.” The heat from Darius’s back dissipated, cold taking its place. He’d stepped forward. “These are stairs. Take caution.”
“Right, right. Stairs to go down,” she said, conjuring up some fire to cover the tip of her torch.
Emery stepped beside her as the flame slowly grew, illuminating the tiny bubble around them. Together they descended, Darius a few steps ahead and not needing the spell—he’d been down here before. Emery flinched.
“What?” she whispered.
“One of those drops. It’s disconcerting.”
Mentored in Fire Page 3
