“Because any demon confronting an ephilium in a human city risks breaking the Concords,”I finish. I’d suspected something along these lines when I made the deal with him.
An approving ripple runs through the presence in my mind.“So the vulture has a brain.”
“I thought I was a lamb?”I say, recalling his words to me on the altar. Strange to think that dark cloud was the demon now standing in front of me, flesh and blood—even if that blood is green in color.
“I believe humans have a saying about carnivores in sheep’s clothing,”he tosses back.“Anyway, being able to walk the city as a human will be useful. With you, I can go places I couldn’t otherwise and observe things that would be kept hidden from a demon. You will assist me in finding whatever den the ephilium are opening these rifts from. That should help us get to the bottom of how they’re tricking the wards too.”
He turns away from the lake and starts to walk back toward the trail that leads up to the castle.“And now you are all caught up. I can only hope you have grasped that cooperating will be much easier than whatever foolish escape you were attempting.”
Instinctively, I jump to defend myself.“Look, I was just?—”
“You gave me your word,”he says, continuing to walk away from me without so much as a glance back. I feel his scorn like the pinch of sharp claws.“I confess I didn’t expect even a vulture like you to break it so soon.”
I feel a hint of guilt but quickly push it away. What right does he have to be offended I broke my promise to him whenhis kindare the ones who lie and deceive to trick humans?
His presence ghosts across my legs, wrapping around them and forcing my feet into motion, sending me stumbling after him. The pressure eases after a few moments once it’s clear I’ve gotten the message, silently following him up to the castle. Still, I know he’s lurking in my mind, waiting to tug on the link between us the next moment he wants me to obey, like yanking on the leash of a badly trained dog.
Whatever gentleness he showed toward the demons at the lake, any compassion from him is clearly reserved for his own kind. Where I’m concerned, the Lord of Malice is a tyrant, one I need to be rid of as soon as possible.
And it looks like working for him is the only way to do that.
Chapter 11
Syrus
She was wearing one of my shirts. I recognized it instantly when I found her at the lake, though I haven’t seen it in at least a century. I had most of my clothes from the early days of my reign packed away somewhere even I didn’t recall. Though now it’s clear some of them must’ve ended up in the northern apartments, preserved for the day when a hapless human with eyes green as demon blood and a spiky mind would go rifling through them.
It suited her, even if it was several sizes too big, the white fabric contrasting with that bright red hair and pink skin. Skin dusted withfreckles, of all things.
Demons don’t have freckles. You need the sun for freckles.
They somehow take the edge off her sharpness, despite the hard set of her face and the quick retorts she hurls my way. There have been several times since meeting her I’ve needed to press my lips tightly together so as not to laugh at something she’s thought or said.
But it won’t do to ignore that edge. I can’t afford to soften toward her. Not when I need to use her, bending her to the task my duty demands of me.
Only after I sent her back to her room, the image of her in my clothes lingering in my mind, do I realize she must’ve been in search of something to wear that didn’t have blood on it.
And something about that thought is oddly…painful.
Leah
Before I can climb into bed, Vizmodeus arrives at my door again to toss a pile of clothes at me. I assume Asterim must’ve said something about having clothes that actually fit me. He doesn’t lock the door behind him this time, and I don’t try to leave.
Frankly, I’m so exhausted that even if I wanted to attempt another escape, I know I’d need to get some sleep before trying. If I’m going to pass out somewhere in Malice, I’d rather it be here with a set of high castle walls in between me and most of the realm’s demons. At least the onesinsidethose walls have a good reason not to kill me.
And if that isn’t the stuff of sweet dreams, I don’t know what is.
When I wake, I don’t know how long I’ve slept. It’s hard to tell these things when there’s no sun. I don’t even know if theyhavea night here. Maybe I slept through it. Or maybe demons don’t bother with shit like that.
What they do bother with, it turns out, is underwear. Because I find a small selection among the pile Vizmodeus handed me last night, and thank goddess for that. Of all the unpleasant things about being here in Infernum, going commando felt like the icing on the crappy cake.
Speaking of which, I’m starving, and I figure I need to take matters into my own hands on that front. It’ll probably take the demons as long to realize I need food as it did to remember I need clothing.
But when I open the door, I see why Vizmodeus didn’t bother locking it again.
The hell cat, Triya, lies across the doorway, her huge, sleek body blocking the bridge outside my room. She lifts her three heads at the sound of my surprised inhale, throwing a lazy look in my direction. I stand there, hand tight on the doorknob, ready to slam the door shut between us if it looks like she’s going to strike. It’s very possible she’s been waiting here to eat me while her master’s not around, whatever Syrus said.
But she looks unbothered as she eases herself to her feet and stretches. Then she turns and starts padding across the bridge, pausing to sniff at something on the wall. Eventually, she looks back at me, and the six pairs of eyes seem…expectant?
