It’s silent for a moment, then he ties off the bandage and speaks. “Agreed. It seems unlikely that whoever the pale-bloods are working with is high profile enough to own those buildings anyway. The people opening these rifts are confident that the locations won’t be traced back to them.”
“Do you think it has anything to do with…” My hand automatically goes to the spot on my arm where the sorcerers made their cut—it’s just a thin red line now. “I mean, they seemed pretty into the whole black magic thing, andsomeone’ssmiting those demons.”
“The ephilium could be smiting them,” he points out. “Though admittedly it’s not their style. They prefer to burn us from the outside in, rather thanthe other way around.” His gaze has followed the hand touching my arm, and now he’s looking at the ring on my finger.
“Was your husband hurt when they took you?” he asks, his voice quiet.
“Oh. I don’t know.” It’s still very strange to think of Hathwell as my husband at all. “One moment I was asleep, and the next they were holding me down and drugging me.” I twist the ring around my finger. “To be honest, it’s occurred to me he might’ve been one of the people in that chamber. I didn’t see all their faces.”
This makes his eyes snap to mine. “You think your husband tried to sacrifice you?”
Despite the pain, I suppress a smile. “Pretty shitty wedding present, right? But it was an arranged marriage. I don’t really know the man, so anything’s possible,” I say with a shrug. I don’t add anything about Dad or his debts, and certainly nothing about taking Evie’s place. In fact, this whole conversation is getting a little too personal, so I redirect. “My point is, someone’s trying to mess with the Morphos, and you’re in charge of it, so don’t you think them summoning you could be connected?”
He considers this. “There’s always some foolish human or other trying to summon a demon. I didn’t have to answer the call—the spell wanted a powerful demon, and I was the first one it found, though it’s true an ephilium might not have realized I was powerful enough to resist the binding after being called and set the humans up to try it.”
I stare at him, wondering why he’d responded to the summons if he didn’t have to. I’m about to ask, but he’s already talking again. “Summoning me would be an odd move if sabotaging the Morphos was their goal. I may be the lake’s guardian—I oversee the snares’ access to it—but I have no unique magical link to the lake. My power won’t impact it any more than the next demon, so harnessing that power wouldn’t be useful to someone trying to interfere with it.”
He shifts position, moving himself more directly in front of my seat. His hands rest on the chair arms, so he’s bracketing me as he studies my face. I refuse to flush under his scrutiny, watching his eyes fall to my aching jaw, which I’m sure is sporting a pretty impressive bruise by now.
His own jaw clenches again. I distracted him for a moment, but that anger is back, probably resulting from the way I messed up at the warehouse.
“Follow with your eyes,” he says, lifting his index finger in front of my face and moving it slowly back and forth. There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.
“You could have died today,” he says.
“Yes,” I reply. I wonder if he’s reconsidering our deal. Would it be a good thing if Syrus realized I’m not as useful to him as he hoped? Maybe he’d release me. Or maybe he’d just keep me on the hook on the off chance he needed me again, and in the meantime, I’d wither and die.
I’d rather not take that risk. Better for me to be useful, so I can do whatever it is he needs me to do and then get out of here.
“But it’s not the first time,” I add. “I’ll be more careful going forward.”
My words only irritate him further. He drops his hand and rises, putting a few feet between us.
“I misjudged what I could achieve in your body in its current condition. I should’ve expected it, but it’s been—” He considers his words, rephrasing. “I’m not used to operating within human limitations.”
Big bad demon doesn’t know what it’s like to be vulnerable, now there’s a surprise. His phrasing rankles me, as does his anger.He’sthe one who signed me up for this, and now he’s going to be pissed with me for doing my best?
“So I got a little banged up,” I say, not liking the direction this is going. “I’ll heal, and maybe next time you’ll remember I’m more breakable than you are and won’t make me try to take on three men twice my size.”
He turns to glare at me. “I could’ve used my magic to even the odds if you’d kept hold of the knife.”
My mouth opens in outrage. “Are you really blaming me?—”
“No,” he cuts me off. “But next time you won’t drop it. Because you’re going to get stronger. Your reflexes aren’t terrible, but your body doesn’t know how to fight. I can take the reins, but without any real muscle—or musclememory of blocks and strikes, for that matter—I can only do so much. We’ll start rectifying that when you’re healed.”
After I’ve healed. After I’m stronger. That sounds like a lot of waiting around—time for the possession to poison me. Anxiety sharpens my words.
“And if I refuse?” I ask. “Are you going to flay my back open like you did to that demon?”
The red in his eyes darkens. “If you don’t want to see unpleasant things, I suggest you don’t go snooping in places uninvited. That demon had to be punished.”
“What was his crime?” I demand. I want to know what infraction earns you that kind of torture in Infernum. It will help me judge exactly how close I am to that lash myself.
“He was a soul snare,” the Lord of Malice replies, turning away from me, his shoulders hunched with tension. “He made a bad deal.”
“Bad how?” I push. Surely any deal that secures a new subject for Infernum is good in the demons’ eyes.
“The human sold his soul in exchange for revenge on someone. The snare not only agreed but severely overstepped in holding up his side of the bargain. He didn’t just bring misfortune on the person in question, he wound up killing them. Not on purpose, I don’t think, but he should’ve known better than to accept the deal in the first place.”
