“How many Free Men are there?” asked Samael.
“I only saw Alice,” I said. “But I don’t have a clear picture of everything. There could be more, but I can only see the area around the book. Once we get there, we can scope it out. There’s an underground tunnel called the Hunted Friar’s Passage. You know where the old gibbet is? Where they used to hang pirates? There’s an entrance near there. We can use the tunnel to get around the Devil’s Acre unnoticed.”
A long time ago, the tunnel was used by the holy brothers who were at war with the king.
“The Hunted Friar’s Passage?” said Samael. “Could the Free Men be using it?”
“I doubt it,” I said. “Not even Alice knows it exists. No one remembers it’s there anymore. Most of the entrances are disguised behind facades. They were closely guarded secrets.”
Sourial snorted. “You’re telling me that the throngs of people who live around there never noticed the doors?”
“They’re hidden behind ivy, with levers in the ground. You have to know where they are.”
He cocked his head. “And yet you just so happen to know that they’re there?”
I shrugged, ignoring his tone. “The hunted friars don’t exist anymore. Now, it’s a thief thing, and we keep our secrets close, for obvious reasons. Alice was never a thief. And I’m fairly sure that from one of the entrances, we can get a direct view of where this house is. We will be able to tell how much protection they have around it, who is inside. We can try to survey the whole neighborhood from there.”
Samael started pacing. “Sourial, if we find the neighborhood is heavily protected, I will send a message to you. Once we know their configuration, we may need to cut off their access to the river, to the passage, to any escape routes they might take. If it’s just Alice and a few people, we will take them down right there and seize the Mysterium Liber. We can sever their control over Lilith that way.”
Sourial did not look impressed. “But how do we know any of this is true? What if Lila is the one who set her sister free, and she’s dragging you into a trap?”
“It wasn’t Lila,” Samael said sharply. “I was with her at the time. We will keep interviewing everyone else, one by one, until we find out who it was.”
I shrugged, growing increasingly annoyed with Sourial. “I could say the same about you. Where exactly were you when Alice was released?”
“I was at Castle Hades, of course, not that I should need to answer to you,” said Sourial.
I loosed a breath. “Well it’s not going to do us much good to stand here arguing, is it?”
“Lila is right.” Already, Samael was heading for the door. “We are leaving now, before we lose track of the book again. Send a messenger crow to Castle Hades and let them know they should be ready to march, but don’t tell them where. Not until it’s time.”
Sourial sighed. “As you wish.”
I followed behind Samael, my thoughts roiling. My stomach had twisted into knots. Was I really about to see my sister again? In the stairwell, I walked behind Samael, my palm brushing along the cold stone banister.
Now that I could picture exactly where the book was, I desperately wanted it in my hands. All it would take was one spell, and I would be free of its control.
And maybe part of me wanted to see Alice again, too. Once I’d been desperate to hug her. Now I thought I just wanted to slap her across the face.
How had she turned into this? Someone who could use her own sister this way? Someone who hunted my kind, like the mortals had once hunted the wolves?
My heart was thundering as I descended the stairs, thinking of her wild protectiveness. An older boy—Gregor Barzin—had leered at us once, offered us pennies for a night with two sisters. I told him to fuck off. But Alice … I remember the look on her face after. He wasn’t like us, she said. He wasn’t even Albian. Why did we have to share our slums with their kind? The city was changing. It wasn’t like it used to be. The newcomers made it worse. That was what she always said.
When his house burned down a week later, Alice winked at me and said she’d done it. I thought it was a grim joke.
But now?
Now I understood. She’d burned the fucking house down. Gregor had lived, but his parents were killed—all because their son was an arsehole.
Alice was ruthless. But luckily, she was no match for Lilith.
The sound of chipper singing interrupted my thoughts, setting my teeth on edge. I wasn’t in the mood for chipper singing, and yet there it was—a high-pitched, lilting song about fields of strawberries in the east. It was too sweet, too cheerful, the mood strained.
Only when I got closer to the bottom of the stairs did I see them: Oswald, Emma and Harlow, climbing the stairs.
“Oh how fun!” I muttered. “My replacement.”
Harlow stopped singing and smiled coquettishly, her gaze locked on Samael. He stopped walking, staring back at her.
I couldn’t say this little encounter was improving my mood at all.
Oswald's cheeks had gone bright pink as he gaped at us, and sweat trickled down his temple. His gaze darted between Samael and me. He cleared his throat. “We received your message that Harlow was the … uh … I see … Lila … We were going to show Harlow around. The new bride …” He cleared his throat again. “Friend.”
Emma took a step closer to me, looking baffled. “Lila? Lilith? What’s happening? What about the chains?”
“Samael is going to find me a new home,” I said. “It’s all fine. Nothing to worry about.”
I didn’t want Harlow knowing a single thing about our plans. She absolutely seemed like the type to work for the Free Men.
Harlow looked at Samael from beneath her eyelashes, then curtsied. “I’m honored to be your future wife, my lord.” She blushed. “I do look forward to getting to know you and your”—her lip curled, nearly imperceptibly—“your kind. I understand that you have dreamt of me, and I assure you that I have dreamt of you as well. It is written in the stars that we belong together. I will make you very happy, as a pure maiden of fine reputation.” She shot me a sharp look. “Which others may not be. And I have considerable talents—”
“I must go.” Samael cut her off, descending the stairs with his eyes fixed on the door.
Harlow stood stunned on the stairwell, her cheeks bright red. Then she whirled and reached out for him, gently touching his arm. Once again I thought of how delicate she looked. That was what men liked, wasn’t it? Breakable things they needed to protect.
“But will you be safe, my lord? With the creature?” Her eyes were wide, fearful. “When you bring her to her new lodgings, will she be secure there?” She shivered. “I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but isn’t she dangerous … being what she is? Didn’t she hurt you, my lord? I do not want anything to happen to you. She is a—” Her hand flew to her mouth, and she gasped. “A demon.”
Samael stared at her, his eyes darkening. “I am a divinely created lord of death. I will be fine.” He flung open the door. Whirls of snow spilled inside.
Harlow turned to look up at me, a little smile on her face. She giggled. “I’m dearly excited for my wedding day. The wedding night especially.”
I cocked my head, staring her down. She was playing a game, trying to get me to lose my temper. And truthfully, the thought of these two getting married made me want to burn the city down.
But that would be just what she wanted—to cement her place as queen. I knew she didn’t give a fuck about Samael. She’d called him a monster too. But she wanted his money, and if she drew Lilith out of me—if I did something terrible—I’d be in chains again. Or, she probably hoped, dead. She’d rid herself of a rival once and for all. And annoying as Harlow was, I had to remember who the real enemy was. Alice. The Baron. The army of the Free Men.
So I schooled my expression and shrugged. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Harlow.”
I stomped past her down the stairs, and steeled myself to see Alice again.
Lila
I flew under the iron gray clouds, sticking close to Samael. As his magic skimmed over me, I turned to see him.
With the wind rustling his hair, he looked completely at home in the skies. This was where he belonged.
As for me? It seemed I didn’t have a home right now. When this was over—when the book freed me—would I be making a new home out here somewhere? Maybe I’d make friends with Nico.
To our right, the Dark River looked nearly frozen. Skeletal trees lined the river walk, and icicles hung from their gnarled branches.
Yet even in this forbidding landscape, I felt more at home than ever here in Dovren—castle or not. As Lilith, I’d helped to build this empire of stone. As Lila, I’d grown from the soil itself. This was where I belonged.
I swept over the crooked streets . In the dim light, candles lit up windows in crowded brick buildings. My heart squeezed as I looked at them. All those families crammed inside eating lunch. Imagine having a normal life …
The icy winter wind whipped over my feathers, and we followed the serpentine curves of the Dark River, swooping over ships, over old wooden bridges, over drunks calling out.
Before we got too close to Devil’s Acre, I took the lead.
Briny air filled my lungs, raking against my throat. The cold seemed to spread right down to my bones.
I guided Samael down to a dark alley by the river, between an abandoned pub and a former jail, both made of brick, and both empty.
We landed on the snowy stones. An ancient, rusted gibbet still hung by the side of the river, and it creaked forlornly in the wind.
I held a finger to my lips, and beckoned for Samael to follow me into the narrow alley. The door was hidden in the brick behind a thick wall of ivy. I knelt down, pulling a lever in the ground, and the door swung open.
We crossed into the tunnel—utterly black—and I shut the door firmly behind us. The old familiar scent of moss and dampness surrounded me. Samael struck a match, illuminating the space—crude walls of uneven stones. He pulled a candle from his pocket and lit it.
“Lila,” he whispered, “did you really call me boring?”
“I did. Is that really the most important thing right now?”
“I just find it hard to believe. I’ve been called many things, but boring was never one of them.”
Of course he wasn’t boring. He was the fucking angel of death, and the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth. But since he was planning to marry someone else, his hurt feelings delighted me.
I nodded. “You are tedious to look at and have no distinguishing features whatsoever. The East End hat makers have mannequins made of burlap cloth with no faces. That’s what I see when I see you. A moving burlap mannequin.”
“That’s absurd.”
“And your choice to marry Harlow is clearly the most boring possible option.”
“I’m doing it to protect you.” A sharp blade cut through his tone. “That’s the only reason.”
“Sorry what?” I struggled to keep my voice down. “How does marrying Harlow protect me?”
“Because of the vision I saw with the soothsayer. If I—”
“A vision?” I blurted. “From a soothsayer? That’s your whole reason? Have you lost your ever-loving mind?”
“I think you’ll find—” He stopped walking, and abruptly fell silent. Then, he held a finger to his lips, and blew out the candle.
The hair rose on the back of my arms. From the entrance, I heard the sound of footfalls. Two sets of footfalls.
What the fuck? How did anyone know we were in here?
I heard Samael draw his sword. Then—to my horror—I felt a whoosh of air as an arrow grazed my face. Shit. Shit. We were trapped in here, and we couldn’t take on projectiles with a sword.
“Run, Samael! I can get us out of here.” I broke into a sprint. Samael’s footfalls echoed behind me, keeping pace. Another arrow skimmed right past me, and I heard it bounce off the stone wall. The only good thing about the dark was that they couldn’t see us any better than we could see them.
But we didn’t have far to go, and we were nearly at the exit—one that would take us out just by Seasalt Abbey.
When I heard the thud of an arrow into flesh, I knew Samael had been hit. I winced, but I could still hear him running.
At last, we reached the door, and I slammed through it into Catherine Wheel Alley. Survival instincts kicked in, and my wings burst out behind me. I took to the air above the crowded brick buildings, assuming Samael would follow. But when I glanced down, I saw him waiting by the entrance to the passage, out of view. An arrow jutted from his right shoulder blade. No wonder he wasn’t flying. The arrow would rip right through his wings if he brought them out.
When two men careened out of the exit, Samael’s sword carved through their necks in one smooth arc.
I’d started to fly down to the alley again, when two bolts hit me. One slammed into my wing, sending jagged shards of pain racing along my wing bones. The other, into my thigh.
I crashed in the alley, landing hard on my back, the arrows ripping through bones. My wing was on fire, and pain exploded up my leg.
Not only had they known where we would enter the passage, but they’d known where we would come out. This was a trap, an ambush. I was pretty sure the arrows had come from the abbey itself, through windows cloaked in mist.
How the fuck had they known?
Samael was talking to me, but my wings—oh, God—the pain was unbearable. I couldn’t even hear what he was saying. Agony slid like knives through the delicate bones, a corrosive pain that made its way up into my skull, robbing me of coherent thought.
Samael scooped me up, and I closed my eyes as he carried me over his shoulder, taking care not to touch my wings.
“Can you stand?” he asked quietly.
I opened my eyes, and slid down so I was standing on my toes. We were in an empty room—but one with the fire still lit. Half-empty pints of beer were scattered over the table, and a steak and kidney pie, half consumed.
I eyed a wooden chair. If I could, I would mentally will my wings to snap back into my body. But with the arrow, I already knew that could not happen. It felt fundamentally wrong. So this was what Samael felt when his wings were injured, a unique and excruciating sort of torture.
I leaned on the table, focusing all of my effort on not screaming out loud. The blood drained from my face.
“Let me help you,” Samael said from behind me.
He’d been hit too, and I wanted to ask him how bad it hurt, but I couldn’t remember how words worked. So instead, I gritted my teeth and nodded.
“This is going to hurt,” he said, quietly.
Going to hurt? It already hurt.
But as he ripped the arrow from my wing, my entire world narrowed to that one point, an agony that shattered my mind. My thoughts went blank—like the dark rushing of the river and nothing else. Shadows clouded my vision, and I gripped the side of the table, trying to stand upright.
I swiped one shaking hand over my mouth, fighting the urge to vomit.
Slowly, some of the sharpness of the pain started to dull. Then, I heard the sound of Samael walking around the room, closing the shutters.
I turned to look at him again. “I don’t understand how they found us. Even if they happened to have a thief working among them, how did they know we were there?”
He turned to face me, his gray eyes glinting with gold in the wavering firelight.
I frowned at the arrow still jutting from his shoulder. “What about you?”
He waved a dismissive hand. “I’m fine. Did you see where the arrows came from?”
I glanced at the door again. “There were Free Men hiding in the abbey, I think. That’s who hit me. Why would they have stopped attacking?” Then, I looked around the room, and the familiarity of it struck me. “This was it. This was where I saw Alice and the book. But I can feel the book is gone. They didn’t want a real fight. They jus
t wanted enough time to flee from us, to get the book to safety.”
"Why?”
I swallowed hard. “They wanted enough time to separate us, I think. They want me to come after the book without you. But the real question is—how could they possibly have known the path we were taking to get here? I thought you said that room was soundproof?”
He turned away from me. “We will get to that. First, let’s get the arrows out.”
I winced, and pressed against his shoulder blade with one hand. With the other, I pulled out the bolt, grimacing at the sound it made. Blood stained his shirt.
When he turned to face me again, his eyes looked black—almost like a demon’s. Then the illusion was gone.
I blinked. I was seeing things. “Do you feel strange, Samael? I mean beyond the blinding pain.”
“Yes. I think the arrows are tipped with poison.” He frowned at my wings. “And unfortunately, we won’t be able to fly until we have an antidote.” He knelt down next to me. “One more. This will hurt.”
“Yes, I’m up to speed on that point now.” I gripped the table again, fingernails piercing the wood.
He held my thigh with one hand, and gripped the arrow’s shaft with the other. I clenched my teeth as he ripped the arrow out. Pain shot through me, but not as bad as with the wings.
I felt my wings retract into my shoulder blades, but the pain still burned beneath my skin. I stumbled, then dropped down into the chair.
Samael pulled off his black shirt, revealing a muscled chest underneath. Blood ran down his skin in little crimson rivulets. He ripped the shirt in two, then tied one of the pieces of fabric around my thigh, making a tourniquet just over where the arrow had hit me. “You will heal faster than you did as a mortal,” he said. “But it's still a deep wound, and the poison won’t help. It will probably weaken your magic until you start to recover.”
“Do you have any thoughts about an antidote?”
“There’s a book of poisons,” he said. “I have a copy in my office. And Sourial probably has it memorized. He’s been reading about poisons ever since you used foxglove against our army. I think you rattled him.”
Possessed (Hades Castle Trilogy Book 3) Page 5
