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“It was nice meeting you.” Shuffling around him, I head into the forest.
“I have a deal to offer you.”
“Not in the mood,” I say over my shoulder. No way in hell am I making a demon deal right now.
“You haven’t even heard my proposition.” He’s before me in the blink of an eye. “You already know the keep. I’m rebuilding the place. I need someone who can come and go when I’m not here. As long as you make a deal, claiming you won’t attempt to murder me again, you can stay, but know things are going to change around here. No more crumpled walls.” Asmo pulls the dagger from the sheath on his thigh. “Do we have a deal?”
Looking him up and down, I mull the words over in my head.There’s no way that can be twisted, right?
When I’ve settled on my revision, I square my shoulders. “If I die, you do, too.” Simple enough. “Those are the terms.”
The corner of his lips tugs up. “Deal.” He slices the blade over his hand, the motions for me to do the same.
Hesitantly, I grip my dagger, hissing in a breath as it slices through my skin, the crimson beading in an instant. Lifting my hand, I press it to his and magic rushes around us like a warm, sweet-scented wind. And it’s gone in seconds.
“In that case, welcome to Grim’s Keep,” he purrs, his fingers sliding between mine. I barely have time to process the fact his home is named after the oldest reaper when the world spins. Ribbons of air, ofmagicweave until they form white and black smoke around us. My body vibrates, my eyes widen as I frantically glue them on his, anything to keep me steady, to keep me grounded.
I’m not sure how, but the world seems to fold around us and when those wisps of darkness and light spin out, we’re standing in front of the keep. Except it’s not the crumbled broken pieces I remember. Now, it’s… It’smagnificent. The dark gray stones gleam, as if they were crafted yesterday, the garden and hedges trimmed and brimming with vibrant flowers of every hue.
The charred remains of the front doors that barely swung on their hinges hours ago now consist of heavy wooden slabs, carved into an array of falling feathers. Even those broken and missing windows have changed, now catching the hell flame light, scattering colorful rays along the stone, the green grass, and everywhere else the light can reach. Based on the windows I can see from the ground, they depict dragons of every color, swirling around one another, like they’re flying through the clouds. Some look like a painting that carries on from window to window—a black dragon chasing a silver one across the stretch of the keep.
It’s like these stone walls rose from the ashes, from the crumpled rubble, and pieced itself back together again. Then I see the long banners, cascading down the side of the twisted towers, from the place sentries would sit if they were here. The fabric is made of a voidness black; the hems decorated in gold, and in the center is a golden phoenix.
“The queen thought it was fitting.” Asmo glances up at the banner. “Seeing as they keep coming back from the dead and all.”
It is, except for the phoenix on that banner is exactly like the tattoo on my back.How did he know?My jaw falls open, but I haven’t the ability to shut it. “How?” I breathe.
Asmo glides toward the front doors, turning backward without faltering a step as he waggles his fingertips at me. “Magic.”
He knew about my tattoo by magic, or does he mean he rebuilt this place with it?
Gripping my shoulder, I feel the pulse of that tattoo, of the magic there. It had been placed on me the day my mother died, a physical mark of the deal she’d made with the Grim Reaper to exchange her life for mine, so that I could live, much to my father’s dismay.
I stand in awe, my heart a captive to the view before me.
“Well, don’t just stand there.” Asmo appears in the now open doorway, beckoning me to follow him inside.
8
Valeria
I follow him inside,and all I can do is gape. Gone are the flamed remains of plaster, of bent canvases. Now, the walls are dark, glowing and receding in places as if they’re made of the night sky. Those gleaming lights are somehow captured within them sparkling like the crystals from my land. Everything glows in a soft light, and when I look at Asmo, he points toward the ceiling with a single finger and I follow it. Above us, dozens of floating orbs illuminate the room, adding the sea of starry crystals on the walls.
"These…" Asmo begins, his voice like dark velvet and burning embers as he steps closer. His gaze follows my entranced stare, up and up, until his head rests back as far as it will go. “These are inspired by the bloom festival. There’s a little village in the Realm of Monsters that hosts the event, every year after the blackout.”
“The blackout?” I ask, admiring the way those glowing orbs reflect off his eyes, off the scar that slices down the side of his face.
He relaxes his head, glancing in my direction just long enough to remind me I’m staring. “You wouldn’t know about it, but occasionally, in the north the hell flame disappears for three days straight, sometimes longer. When it returns, that village uses magic to make orbs like these rise from a fountain in the middle of town. They float above the streets, like lanterns. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing."
I drop my gaze, seeing that he even replaced the floors. Where cracked midnight blue tiles were, are now an endless piece of obsidian marble with the most subtle hints of gold and silver streaked through it.
Each room he takes me to is adored with stone and moss and shadow. The kitchen is large enough for me to get lost in alone. Somehow it seems bigger than it was when I stayed here, but that could be due to the crumbled wall taking up easily half the room. The dining room has been filled with a long wooden table, surrounded by at least a dozen or more seats. It hints at his desire for future gatherings, while the sunroom, now framed in clear windows, is the perfect place to curl up in the quiet afternoons. I could see myself laying in here, bathing in the golden light of the setting hell flame, lost in thought or book.
He leads me through the apothecary, which for the most part looks the same, just less dusty. The air still vibrates with magic in here, the crystal wards on the wall glowing faintly in the dim light. Then there’s the throne room, toward the front of the keep. It’s a large, mostly empty, space, besides the various round tables scattered about and the two large stone thrones on the far side.
“Those thrones are older than this keep. They were given to the lord who ruled here as a present. This place hasn’t seen much company, even if the rooms look ready for it. At least not in my lifetime it hasn’t.” Asmo waves for me to follow him, and I lethim lead me up the stairs to the second floor. “Up here, is my office.” He nods to one of the large rooms off the landing.
“Glad to see you kept the piano,” I say, following him like a lost puppy.
