“A human girl came to see you today,” he said to the spider, his voice echoing faintly.
“Liliana Sophronia.” A chill skittered up his spine.Liliana. The Widow must’ve sensed his reaction, for she paused, as if in thought. “Yes. I know who she is, Devil.”
“Can you tell me what it is about her that everybody wants?” His lungs felt tight, and his heart was slamming in his chest. “Can she find the Arcanum Well? Is that what it is? Can she find it because she is Erasmus Sophronia’s daughter?” Could this be it? Would he finally find out for certain why everybody wanted Loren, and more importantly, how he could keep her safe?
But the Widow said, “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”
Darien bristled. “What’s your cost?” he barked.
“It’s not a matter of cost, Devil.”
“You’re forbidden to say.” When the Widow said nothing, he took her silence as affirmation.
As one of the Nameless, the Widow was a creature of immense knowledge, but that didn’t mean she was free to do with it as she pleased. If a person could afford it, they could pay a creature like the Widow to withhold a secret for the rest of time—until the universe was nothing but dust.
“What did she offer you?” He had to make sure Loren hadn’t done something so foolish as offering up any part of her precious soul to this gluttonous beast.
The Widow’s voice reminded him of a little girl. “What is it that you’ll offer for that information?”
“What is it that you want?” he countered.
Her voice was the hiss of water over hot stones. “A taste.”
Darien didn’t hesitate as he cut open the wound that’d already clotted in his palm. He squeezed his fingers into a fist, dripping more blood into the yawning pit before him. The first cut was to pay for the teleportation here; the second was by the Widow’s request—and thirst.
A wet smacking drifted from the shadows.
“She offered plenty, Slayer,” the Widow began. “Years, knowledge, beauty.” What little value Loren had for her own life excruciated him. “As I’m sure you’re already aware, I couldn’t take those things from her. Not without leaving her either dead or in a coma. Though I admit her beauty was rather tempting.”
His hair stood on end. “What is it that she wanted?” he bit out.
“I think you know the answer to that question, Darien Cassel.” He did. It just hurt too much to admit it.
“I’d like to bargain on Loren Calla’s—Liliana Sophronia’s—behalf.”
The eight-legged shadow trembled with delight. “You know I cannot bring the dead back exactly the way they were before.” Bringing something back from the dead was a tricky and highly dangerous task. It was somewhat easier where animals were concerned, but when it came to people, someone was required to take that person’s place in the Lower World. A life for a life.
But Darien wasn’t bargaining for the life of a person.
He could hear the smile in the Widow’s voice as she said, “What are you willing to trade for the dog’s life, Darien Cassel?”
47
Loren lingered in the entrance hall at Hell’s Gate, one foot on the bottom stair. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, yet the words didn’t lie.
Neither did Darien’s voice as he conversed with a female in the recording Tanner was listening to on his laptop in the library.
“My boss,” the female was saying, “would like to know what he needs to do to convince you to close this mission.”
“More mynet,” Darien said. Loren sucked in a breath. “Word on the street says another bounty hunter was offered double what you and I negotiated. Knowing someone else was promised four million when I was only promised three doesn’t sit well with me, Long Ears.”
“He figured you might say something like that.” There was a short pause. “He’ll pay five and a half million gold mynet, Slayer. And you’ll get every last copper the moment you turn in what he wants.”
“Tell him this job comes with a few complications. I have a pretty solid idea where she is, but I need his patience. And I’m not interested in wasting my time explaining why. He needs to trust me.” Nausea twisted in her stomach, and her legs trembled so badly it took all she had not to sink to the stairs.
Loren didn’t stay to hear the rest. She sprinted up the stairs, wondering how it was possible that her heart could still be breaking after everything.
She reached the second-floor landing when the front door swung open below. Her hands curled into fists as she skidded to a stop—as she heard the familiar sound of his boots on the floor. Slowly, she turned and braced a fist on the polished handrail.
