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The lusty demon, heir to desire, stares at me for several moments.
Heat rises in me. My cheeks flush, and I’m uncertain if it’s his gaze or being so close to him that’s causing it. His topaz eyes are a snare, and I’m the rabbit—unable to tear myself from the trap, of looking anywhere but right into those beautiful, malice-filled eyes.
He licks his lips and releases me with such force, I stumble backward several steps.
“Case and point,” I snarl when I catch myself. “Don’t tell me you don’t hate me and then shove me down the hall.” I rub the spots where his fingers dug in. “You know what? I don’t care. You can keep your mood swings and immature little attitude problem. You don’t have to talk to me or even look at me. Just stay out of my way.” I march past him, hip-checking him as I do.
I’ll find my own godsdamn food.
It doesn’t take long to find the kitchen. I help myself to the contents of their stocked fridge, piling fresh fruit and vegetables in varieties I’ve never seen onto a plate. The hunk of meat, all carved up and portioned, gives me pause.
It looks delicious, but I don’t recognize the cut or even what kind of animal it came from.
I give a slice a sniff test and decide to risk it, eating it cold. It doesn’t have much flavor, and I make sure to chew thoroughly and slowly so I don’t upset my stomach.
I should have started with something lighter after such a long fast, but the heirs have nothing I consider light fare.
Once I’ve finished and I’m convinced the food will stay down, I do some exploring.
The lair doesn’t have any windows or external doors. The only way in is to blink, which is a problem if I ever want to leave on my own. In what I’ve decided is the front of the lair, simply because it’s where we blinked in, is a large room divided into a sitting area and a dining area. Off that is the kitchen, a library, music room, and a gym. I don’t spend too much time in any room because they just aren’t that interesting. Same earthen walls. Same grayish-brown furniture or fabrics everywhere. Even the kitchen, though large, is rather dull.
It’s the last thing I thought would be the case.
A demon lair should be fire and brimstone and sulfur. Where are the hanging corpses and screaming tortured?
But then again…
I’ve read the Christian Bible. I don’t know what angels it was talking about, but it wasn't my kind and same might hold true for demons. But does that then extend to Celestian’s idea of demons?
Did we get it wrong as well?
Obviously, my idea of what demons and their realms are didn’t come from the Bible. Angels have every right to fear the creatures that can siphon our power for their own benefit.
But maybe the stories I was told as a child about fearsome horned demi-gods in a pit of fire are just that.
Stories.
Still, as wrong as the Bible got angels and demons, and I’d imagine a great many other things, I kind of love it. It’s so dramatic, so poetic and dark. Murder and rape and stonings. People turning into salt pillars, fathers murdering their sons.
Trashy TV could never.
After I get my fill exploring, the other heirs still haven’t shown up.
I have no idea where they could be. I don’t hear or see Axe, Bastian, or Enzo return after school. And Dashel is still staying out of sight.
If he wasn’t being such a dickhead, I’d ask him where everyone is, but since Dashel is the self-appointed king of dicks right now, I go from exploring to snooping.
The common areas don’t offer much.
The library, while full of dusty books that I’d normally dive headfirst into, holds little interest for me since every last text is written in demon script. Even if there were something about the Syndicate or where Gael might be, I wouldn’t know it if I saw it.
The music room seems to be for show only, as every instrument I strum, pluck, and tap is out of tune. Well, every one I know the proper tuning for, at least. The more extravagant and strange ones could be right for all I know.
So, since the common areas were boring, and I’m averse to being bored, I head toward the hallway, pausing just before touching the first doorknob.
What’s the worst that could happen? The heirs get angry? They shouldn’t have brought me here to begin with, so I say they brought this on themselves.
I turn the knob, expecting it to be locked or, at the very least, spelled shut and warded. But the knob turns easily. I take a breath and gently guide the door open. On a cursory scan, the room is identical to mine, down to the same color of bedding and furniture arrangement.
