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Glancing down at the stone once more, I ran my thumb over its smooth, glassy surface. “I appreciate it. Perhaps I’ll inquire a bit more. At the moment, I’ve a much bigger issue on my plate. Now that the baby is lost, she will begin her transition. It is my father who has laid claim to her soul.”
Vaszhago blew out a harsh breath and shook his head. “Seven devils, that is a dirty move on the Noxerians’ part to grant him claim. Perhaps it’s punishment for your having abandoned the Knights.”
“Undoubtedly so. I intend to meet with the Noxerians, to see if I can offer a trade.”
“It’d have to be a damn enticing one.”
“Perhaps an Elysiumerian angel?”
Vaszhago’s lips stretched to a grin. “I don’t know why I ever tried to kill you. Seems we would’ve gotten along swimmingly.”
“Yeah, well. I didn’t have a woman I was willing to curse my soul for back then. Seems there isn’t much I wouldn’t be willing to do.”
“Make sure you fill another vial of vitaeilem before you offer the arrogant prick up.” With a pat on my shoulder, he stepped past me and continued on up the corridor.
I stared down at the stone still clutched in my palm, trying to imagine what Venefica would require in trade to remove the unbound from Farryn. I’d heard stories, ranging from slavery to deplorable deeds, and there really wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have given, or carried out, for Farryn. Once I’d secured the trade for Farryn’s soul with the Noxerians, I’d look into it, because Syrisa’s lust for vengeance against my father could’ve proven to be yet another complication to the shitshow.
Stuffing the stone into my pocket, I kept on toward the dungeons.
Even if Soreth had proven to be somewhat helpful, I still didn’t trust him. One of the reasons I’d allowed him to stay, though, was the possibility that he might still be of some use. The Noxerians wouldn’t be so quick to risk denying my father claim to a soul, unless the trade was worth it. Had I not lost my wings and power, I might’ve been able to barter my services. To restore my position as a Knight and agree to fight on their behalf in the event of invasion.
Unfortunately, I didn’t even know where to begin tracking down the Met’Lazan who could help me get my wings back, and it seemed no one besides the high-ranking angels had any knowledge of who she was. Angels who wouldn’t lend a piss if I was on fire. It might’ve been a possibility to track the female down, eventually, but I’d run out of time with the loss of the baby.
As an Elysiumerian scholar, Soreth was the next enticing consideration. His knowledge on all things angels would’ve secured his life, so offering him up wouldn’t have necessarily been a death sentence. If he cooperated, they might have even been willing to make him comfortable.
Yes, it was a bastardly thing to do to an old friend, but when it came to Farryn, my loyalties went out the window. I had no problem with serving him up on a spit with an apple in his mouth.
I headed down into the dungeons, where, unlike last time, he was free to at least walk around his cell, and judging by the excess of empty plates outside the bars, my staff were all too happy to keep him comfortable.
Soreth stood facing slightly away from me, studying a grape, which he popped into his mouth and chewed slowly. “Do you remember the days when grapes were associated with status, which the noblemen and monasteries enjoyed?”
“I do, yes.”
“Nowadays, any Tom, or Dick can grow a grape vine, and it means absolutely nothing for status.”
“Your point?”
“Humans place such ridiculous importance on things.” He finally turned to face me, and his brows came together. “She lost the baby.”
“I figured you knew she was pregnant.”
“Well, admittedly, it’s much more difficult to sense it when said child is half Sentinel.”
“She wasn’t very far along, but it’s devastating just the same. Much was lost.” Hands rubbing together, I silently mulled through the thoughts that’d hammered my skull for the last hour. “What if I told you that I believe the unbound soul which resides in Farryn is Syrisa of Soldethaire?”
“Syrisa?” Soreth shook his head, staring off in his usual thoughtful way. “I don’t think so. It’s been centuries, Jericho. Without power, it’s difficult to compel a host to feed. It isn’t like a demon possession.”
“I believe Syrisa has found a way to not only feed, but to control the host. By sending them off into a dark-space inside their minds.”
“She fed on children. I’ve not seen anything like what happened to those boys in centuries. And trust me, I’ve studied. I’ve watched for it.”
I stared down at my hands, which had begun to tremble with rage the moment the thought had crossed my mind. The moment all the pieces had come together, painting a grotesque and fucked-up picture in my head. What I wouldn’t have given right then to wrap my hands around the woman’s throat and squeeze until her neck snapped. “I think she feeds on pregnant women. The fetus, to be exact. There is no compelling in that case.”
The way he stared off for a moment, gaze swirling in thought, told me it wasn’t entirely implausible. “Jericho, I understand you are incredibly upset, but understand that humans are often not physically equipped to carry one of our kind.”
“I don’t believe that was the case with Farryn. And she has seen Syrisa in nightmares and hallucinations.”
He lowered his gaze in the contemplative manner I grew accustomed to seeing as a boy, and I could plainly see that he was trying to choose his words carefully. “While that is unusual and something to consider, the chances that Syrisa was able to bounce from one pregnant host to the next for centuries is a bit of a stretch.”
