She didn’t lock me in.
Did she forget? Or is this some kind of test?
Or worse, a trap.
I don’t really care if it’s a bottomless, covered pit and I’m strolling right into it; I have to try. I can’t wait around for my body to be slowly poisoned in the hope that the Lord of Malice keeps his word.
Before someone can turn up and rip the opportunity from my grasp, I pull some clothes out of the wardrobe. The little demon was right, most of this stuff looks centuries old—but keeping up with the latest trends isn’t really the top of my priorities right now.
If I can get my ass out of this castle and down to the city, my plan to find a rift might still work.
I pick the most nondescript of the random assortment—a pair of wool pants that button up the front, a white shirt, and a gray coat with wide cuffs. There’s no proper underwear except for a shift I wear under the shirt and tuck into the pants.
Sure, the Lord of Malice said he could find me anywhere—in any realm—but there has to be a way to break the bond between us. To permanently shut that back door with a lock he doesn’t have the key to. I never liked Ingold, the dealer at the Three Bridges with shady clientele, but it’s possible he knows enough about black magic to find a way to undo the kind cast on me.
I find a single pair of shoes buried at the back of the wardrobe. Too big for my feet, but I stuff some fabric into the toes and then at least the boots stay on.
I’m careful to keep my tread light in them as I cross the bridge from my room. It’s a small crossing, made to connect one tower to the next, and I size up the distance between the parapet and garden wall that runs below.
Thank goddess for all those years I spent crawling around Pax’s walls; it’s made me good at this stuff. I check my surroundings before swinging myself up and over the edge of the bridge, my feet dangling for a moment before they find a buttress. I scrabble down onto it, keeping a grip on a jutting keystone before making a calculated jump onto the wall below.
I stay low as I move along the top of it, focusing on the perimeter wall rather than the garden that runs to my left. I haven’t forgotten that at any moment I might have a very unwelcome visitor barging into my mind and fucking up any hope of getting out of here. As forothervisitors…well, it’s in my favor that the castle isn’t crawling with servants or courtiers like one might expect. The little demon—Asterim—said they rarely get house guests, and right now I’m thanking the gods the Lord of Malice isn’t a social butterfly.
I don’t have to go far to find a spot I can reach the ground from with a bit of creative thinking. Once I’m down from the wall, I land on a rocky track on what I think is the southwestern side of the castle. The mountains sit on the skyline in the distance, and below lies the lake we flew over earlier. I reckon the city is beyond those mountains, so I need to head in that direction.
A knot curls in my gut, and I jerk my eyes up, scanning the top of the wall I just dropped down from. But there’s nothing there. Not that I can see, anyway. And if there’s something Ican’tsee, I’m certainly not going to hang around to find out about it.
I hurry down the track, which proves to be a narrow path that descends in the direction of the lake. From what I can see, the mountainous terrain gets more verdant near the water, with thick grass and even some trees down by the waterline. Strange—I never really pictured Infernum having lush plants. Logically, I suppose it’s a world with an ecosystem like ours and couldn’t just be a scorched hellscape?—
My feet still as my gut lurches again. I glance behind me on the trail but see nothing. Still, I could’ve sworn I heard something…
I pick up my pace, trying to watch both my back and my front. For a few moments, the crunch of my feet on the stones seems to be the only sound, but when I stop abruptly again, I hear it—the padding of feet nearby, moving slowly but purposefully along the path.
Something is following me.
The hair prickles on my neck, an ancient instinct alerting me to danger. Not following. Stalking.Hunting.
I start running, and the padded steps pick up speed too, turning into a thudding. Whatever it is, it’s going to easily catch me up at that pace. I need to get off this trail. Fast.
I veer off the path, sliding down the rocky bank, sending stones skittering. The lake isn’t far. It’s possible whatever is after me won’t follow me into the water, and then maybe I can swim to the other side.
Or maybe it’s some fun hell spawn that likes chowing down on its lunch in water as much as on land.
The bank gets too steep, and my feet fly out from under me, sending me tumbling the rest of the way down. I curl inward, putting my hands over my head to protect it from any sharp rocks, and let the momentum carry me.
I land on my knees when the ground finally flattens out and haul myself up to lean back and scan the bank above me.
There doesn’t seem to be anything there. Maybe falling ass over foot actually worked in my favor, and the creature figured I was too stupid to be worth eating.
I turn toward the lake. I could still try swimming to the other side. It would be faster than going around, but it looks wider from down here and deeper too—the dark water almost black. Plus, I wouldn’t be the only one out there. I squint across to the far side where there’s a pair of sailboats drifting across the water.
Are they fishing? I move closer to the edge, wondering if I can spy any wildlife I’d need to avoid. The water laps gently on the shore as I stare down, trying to see past the sky’s reflection shining on the surface to the depths beyond.
A light breeze sends a ripple across the water, and for a second, I see a shape shifting just below the surface.
I step back with a gasp—that shape looks awfully like a hand.
Maybe my brain has been fried from years of scavenging, because curiosity overtakes my horror pretty quickly. I find myself leaning down, trying to get a better look. My eyes dart across the water, catching more glimpses ofdrifting shapes in the murky liquid—a leg, the curve of a shoulder, a set of eyes.
