Page 32 of Hell Bent

“The yoke. Thinking of pawning it?”

“It’s not doing you much good.”

He ran a fond hand over the paperback. The letters seemed to shimmer and change to unfamiliar symbols. “Would that I might make thee love books more than thy mother,” he murmured.

His fingers were tipped in golden claws, and a memory came to her, the feeling of his body wrapped around hers. I will serve you ’til the end of days.

She shivered despite the heat of the room.

“Why did that work?” she asked. “Why didn’t it burn?”

“Stories exist in all worlds. They are immutable. Like gold.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of that. She slid the rest of the books across the boundary of the circle.

“Okay?” she asked. Her whole body was humming, trapped between the desire to run and the hunger to remain. It felt dangerous to stand in this room, alone with him, this person who wasn’t quite a person, this creature she knew and didn’t know.

Darlington perused the titles. “These will do for now. Though Fire and Hemlock seems more apropos than Dogsbody. Here,” he said. “Catch.”

He tossed the paperback in the air. Without thinking, Alex reached for it, realizing too late that she was going to breach the circle. She hissed as her outstretched arm struck the boundary.

But nothing happened. The book landed in her palm with a loud smack. Alex stared at it, at her arm on the other side of that golden veil.

Why hadn’t she burned the way Dawes had?

Her tattoos had changed. They glowed golden and they seemed to be alive: the Wheel spinning; the lion atop it prowling over her forearm; the peonies blossoming, then losing their petals, then blooming once more. She drew her hand back, dropping the book.

“What the fuck?”

The demon was staring at her, and Alex rocked back on her heels, the reality of what had happened sinking in. If she could get in, then could he …

“I can’t get out,” he said.

“Prove it.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Why not?”

A small furrow formed between his brows, and she felt a pinch in her heart. Despite the horns, the markings, that was Darlington.

“Because every time I try to breach the circle, I feel a little less human.”

“What are you, Darlington?”

“What are you, Wheelwalker?”

The word hit Alex like a hard slap. How did he know? What did he know? Belbalm had called her Wheelwalker. She’d claimed to be one too, but Alex hadn’t found any mention of their kind in Lethe’s collection.

“How do you know that word?” she asked.

“Sandow.” That name emerged as a growl that shook the floor.

“You saw him … behind the Veil?”

Darlington looked at her with those strange golden eyes.

“Are you afraid to say it, Stern? You know where I’ve been, far beyond the borderlands, far beyond the Veil. My host was happy to welcome Sandow to his realm, a murderer who killed for gain. Greed is a sin in every language.” Two expressions flickered across his face, at war, one of distaste, the other of almost obscene satisfaction. Some part of him had liked punishing Sandow. And some part of him was disgusted by it.