I push myself up into a sitting position.“Fuck,” I mumble as I take in my surroundings.
While my handcuffs are gone, they’ve been replaced by some with longer chains fastened to the centre of a cell floor.I’ll be able to move in a circle and that’s it.
The stone walls are jagged and damp.There is a single iron-barred window at the top of the cell that lets in dribbles of moist morning air and I suspect a mean draft at night.The sliver of sky I can see is grey and misty, but I can’t discern much else.
I peer into the corridor.It’s dark despite having multiple sconces with flames flickering in them.
They do nothing to warm me.My clothes are torn, my skin grubby and the runes on my skin painfully quiet.
Now that they’re silent, I realise how much the rhythmic thrum in my cells kept me company.At the end of the corridor is a sculpture carved into the wall rock.It’s just like Finis only inverted: Prima.
I must be in the dungeons of Church Mortis.
“IGNATIUS,” Arcadius booms somewhere in the distance.He’s pissed; his growl makes my chest vibrate.
I scoot to the cell bars and push my face as far between the iron as I can.But it’s no good.There’s too much gloom and they’re too far away for me to see.
But I can hear.
“Have you been to the city?”Arcadius growls.
“No.I’ve been rather busy.”
There’s a clunk that sounds distinctly like a slap to a jaw.Clothes ruffle.Someone clears their throat.
“If you’d allow me to explain, we have Lucy,” Ignatius says.
Arcadius is in on this, too?That fucking bastard.
“That means shit when there are angels eating more mortal souls than ever and causing such catastrophic Veil tears, I’ve had to dispatch half the demonic council out to the city along with half the remaining professors to repair the increasing number of them.”
“I understand.But we have Lucy now.”
This time, the thud is so audible I cringe at the crack.
“I don’t give a fuck whether you’ve found all the gods themselves, Ignatius.We are losing control of this city.Do you really want to be left with that reputation?Fix it.I want progress in forty-eight hours.”
If I strain, I can make out the chancellor’s footsteps retreating and the growing clack, clack of Ignatius’s feet.I inch myself back from the bars, trying to keep the chains from making a godsawful racket, and lie on the cold stone floor in the position I woke and pretend to be unconscious.
I swear if Ignatius cared to, he’d be able to hear my heartbeat whacking against my ribs.
Cold water splashes my body.I yelp as it sinks into my already chilled muscles and pull myself upright.
“Pleasant as ever, Father.”
But he’s not in the mood for talk.His jaw is swelling, the hint of a purple hue blushing under his stubble.He’ll have to magically cover that, or it will be obvious in a couple of hours.
“You’re going to help me take control of this city, rebuild my reputation and then we’re going to get rid of Arcadius once and for all.”
“I see we’ve dropped the doting father act already.”
He glowers at me.“Do I need to remind you that I am very willing to make this harder for you?Help me and I’ll locate you to better quarters.Help me again and I’ll see about some luxuries and even some freedoms eventually.Make it difficult and I will be decidedly less benevolent.”
He calls a dank cell and chains benevolent?He’s more deluded than I realised.I’ll need to play this carefully.I want to know how much he knows about me and the runes covering my body.
“How exactly do you propose I help you?I’m trapped in a cell with no demon magic.”
He sneers, as if I’m ignorant and the answer is the most obvious thing in the world.
