“Since when do you care about anything?” Cyrus continued, his tone going a little lower, a little more like a growl.
Rowan’s reply was so deep, and so quiet, I couldn’t pick up the words. Only the feeling behind his explanation, the intensity and menace of it.
Staring at Rowan, I saw pinpricks of light speckle his eyes as he looked at Cyrus. Why weren’t they telepathing with each other? Then I realized the more obvious question.
“Do you two think I can’t hear you?” Even though I couldn’t hear the last bit.
Grayson finally stirred on the couch across from me. When he awoke, his pupils were totally silver. I dug fingernails into my palms so I could turn my attention back at the Hammers.
“My apologies, Scion,” Cyrus said, making me roll my eyes. Apparently, being exhausted made human mannerisms more natural. “There are…laws we need to…should abide by.”
Getting up from the chair a book and I occupied most of the afternoon, I hurried over to Rowan, who held out the sheets to me. They didn’t feel quite as luxurious as his sweaters, but the longer I kept my arms nestled in them, the more I realized they breathed. The material didn’t chafe. But most importantly, my arms never got hot.
“You…are a God,” I looked adoringly up at Rowan, trying to take the pile of sheets, but he wouldn’t let me.
His ears burned bright red. “I’ll do it.”
At first, I didn’t want him seeing how I’d been sleeping the past two nights. I was once again wearing the sage green sweater, and the chocolate one was still laid crumpled and obvious on my bed. But then I kind of liked the idea.
Rowan jumped away right before my eyes, glancing defiantly at Cyrus, who looked like he was trying hard not to detonate.
“Just can’t decide if I’m a half-caste or the Scion, huh Cy?”
His dimples flashed me as he stuttered, “I’m…I’m sorry…I just—”
Don’t sweat it, I grinned at him, placing a hand on his shoulder. You can hate what I am if you want. I won’t take it personally.
Cyrus gave me that look I got a lot, the one that said he didn’t understand me. It wasn’t his fault his prejudices and his loyalties were clashing.
“Your human male hasn’t been by in a while, Savannah,” Grayson lured me over, patting the couch next to him. I chose the chair.
My human male. I wondered how Benn felt about a Royal advisor calling him that.
“His classes were cancelled yesterday ‘cause of the storm,” I waved toward the front window at the blizzard, even though the shades were drawn and we couldn’t see outside. “Usually he comes by after class, since they’re nearby.”
“I didn’t know Bennett was in school,” the Tempter crooned, his velvet voice soft and alluringly supple, but I think I was growing immune to his tricks. Or, at least I could recognize them with accuracy.
“He’s in his sophomore year of college. He’d be a junior if not for…” my eyebrows lowered, wondering why I had almost shared something so personal. “Benn’s going to be a journalist.”
“Do you know his plans for the future? Where he wishes to go after graduation?”
Though his interest was strange, I liked talking about Benn. “Grad school at NYU maybe. His dad went there, and Benn has the grades for it.”
Cyrus leaned against the couch, and raised his eyebrows. “Will you be going with him?”
I opened my mouth, ready to say how ridiculous the question was, but then stopped. It wouldn’t be long before Benn was gone. And I was all alone.
Ah ha. As an image of a banquet table filled with foreign looking cuisine was telepathed into my head, aristocratic demons talking and laughing with one another, I knew why Grayson brought it up. Another enticement. More tricks.
“Benn’s my family. We’ll stay in touch.”
“You say he’s like a brother, but the way you care for him, the way you feel for him—”
I cut him off with an awkward laugh. “Oh, geez. That’s what this is about? Benn isn’t like my brother, Tempter. He is my brother.”
“Victor Cole does not recognize more than one offspring,” Cyrus said, making me squirm. What a strange way of saying I was his only child.
“Not by blood,” I shook my head, hoping they were feeling my chastising projections. “He’s family. By choice.”
Grayson and Cyrus looked at each other, and were probably telepathing. They seemed unnaturally interested in this.
Rowan jumped in next to me, making me jerk a little until I saw the tinge of color on his neck and ears. Blushing along with him, I grinned. But there was something else in his expression too. Something…male. I’d never seen a look like that before.
“Demons are more…blood over choice,” Grayson finally spoke to me again, though his eyes were narrowed at Rowan when he said it.
Grayson telepathed an image to me, and I almost screamed at him to get out of my head. I thought the image of a pretty girl had a different kind of meaning, but then I felt the waves coming off the Tempter. The emotions, which I was starting to recognize those waves as. Grayson was proud, and sad, protective and compassionate towards the female.
My demon instinct whispered to be cautious.
You have a sister? I focused even harder on the mental picture, and on the waves of emotion he was sending along with them, and said, a half-caste sister?
Maybe it wasn’t so surprising. Many Tempters had half-caste offspring because they could, and they liked human women.
Where is she now? I hoped the question didn’t turn out to be insensitive.
Tanis, Grayson’s telepath was gentle and sweet when he said her name, but changed immediately when he explained, is in Iliana’s court.
I nodded, figuring that was a good thing. After all, Grayson wouldn’t be an advisor to a Royal, choose to be blood bonded for a second time to someone who would treat his sister badly. Would he?
Considering what Iliana did to me, even if it was potentially for my own good, I wasn’t so sure.
“She’s pretty,” I said pointlessly. But I wasn’t sure what else to say.
Staring at the floor and shooting off waves of regret, Grayson stood up, and left The Bookstore all together.
“What’d I say?” I asked Cy, staring at the front door, feeling guilty but having no clue what I did.
He showed his dimples. “I’m sure, if you ask him directly, Gray will tell you.”
CHAPTER 17
By the time I awoke the next day—after the most incredible ten hours of deep, gorgeous sleep on the sheets Rowan brought me—the power had gone out. Tree branches were brought down by heavy blankets of ice and fell onto electrical wires over the night. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Grayson hadn’t returned since our conversation about his sister yesterday. But I knew the moment Cy and Rowan jumped in downstairs.
“What new torment is this?” Rowan’s bark made me finally get out of bed with a grin.
Cyrus seemed more relaxed throughout the day, even when my penchant for curiosity and boredom had me grilling Rowan about demons as we found tasks to occupy the time stuck indoors.
“You mean ‘never make a deal with a demon’ is a real thing you guys take seriously?” I looked up from the stacks of books I had surrounding me on the floor. I was reshelving what little books that were left. There wasn’t anything better to do, and my eyes were blurry from reading all day. “Dmitri said that too, but…I guess I don’t get it.”
“No deal with a demon,” Rowan fluffed a pillow on one of the couches in the corner of the store I was certain he’d fluffed ten minutes ago. “No exchange of one thing for another will be worth the price you’ll pay in the end.”
“People negotiate with demons all the time,” I said, stacking another book in my Mystery stack. I only had four stacks. All of the other genres were ash now.
“Bargains and negotiations are fine,” Rowan moved the coffee table four inches to the left, then three to the right. “Deal was the word to avoid.”
“That’s silly.” Another book went to the Classic Literature stack.
“It’s the way of the ‘realm.”
“You say that a lot.” He’d said that twice before today.
“Yes.”
Baring my teeth at him, I asked, “Why?”
“It is true a lot.”
Surrendering, I piled three dictionaries on my Reference stack. “So I should expect tons of silly, word-play rules in your world?”
He grunted, then fluffed the same pillow again.
Rowan told me a few hours later, after my stacks were stacked and reshelved, that Reapers, Hammers, and Mischief demons were considered the lower-castes, though any caste could be upper-class if they had money. Razers, Sorcerers, and Tempters were the noble-castes, though any caste could be ostracized if the Royals stripped them of their status.
“So, you’re saying a lot of the full-castes Up Above,” I caught the tennis ball Cyrus threw, “are banished from the Underrealm? The human world is, like, prison for them?”
“Exactly.” I tossed the ball and Rowan caught it between his index and middle finger. He’d inadvertently flashed me a peace sign.
“Well that’s real flattering,” I said, watching the tennis ball Rowan released ricochet off two bookshelves and a computer before it landed right in front of Cyrus.
Not approving of the conversation had Cy’s face sagging, making him look like a grumpy old man. At least he wasn’t complaining anymore. But he did fling the ball at me with much more force this time. I stifled a cheer when I caught it.
“You’re not human, you know,” Rowan snarled.
I held the ball in my lap. “I’m part human.”
“It isn’t the same.”
My father is human. Benn is human.
“And you are the current Scion of the demon Underrealm,” Rowan bit out, aggressively snapping his teeth in my direction.
Waving the tennis ball around in my hand, “Yeah, yeah. I know the story.”
“Do you?”
“The story of my life? Um…let me think…” I tapped my chin.
Rowan snorted. “Don’t give me sarcasm, girl. You don’t know yourself.”
With as much force as I had, I hurled the ball at his face. I didn’t even see him pluck it from the air, he was so fast.
That isn’t my fault.
“Whatever you say, Scion.”
And don’t call me that!
“Yes, Scion.” Though he seemed just as snarly as always, if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was having fun teasing me. Strange male.
Rowan lobbed the ball at Cyrus, and it whizzed over his head. He’d fallen asleep again, ending our game.
About the time I would have been getting my evening, after-work rush at The Bookstore, I pulled the window shades aside. The sun peeked out from behind the constant blanket of clouds, making the ice and snow sparkle, hurting my eyes but making me smile.
The store was getting chilly with the electricity still off, but the sun coming out was a good sign. It wouldn’t be long before the power returned.
About an hour after the sun showed its brilliant face, Benn showed his. Benn was a St. Louis native. We knew how to hole up, weather the storm, and when he could risk venturing outside again. Had enough practice in years past.
“I brought Indian food,” Benn said, tracking snow into the store from his heavy duty snow boots. Even with the ultra-traction boots, I was surprised he’d made it without falling down and breaking his handsome face.
With a look, Benn handed me a Gateway magazine. On the front cover was The Bookstore, a picture of my ice-covered sentries walking through the front door.
“What did she do to deserve such loyalty?” Cy asked Benn as I tossed the magazine at Rowan, then took the food bags. The scent of spices wafted from inside them making my mouth water. Indian food was one of the only cuisines with enough taste to satisfy my fickle taste buds. I wondered if it would taste any different now.
“You wouldn’t understand,” my best friend muttered.
The demon roared, “I can understand anything, human!”
I yelped, startled by Cyrus’s outburst. Benn and I raised our eyebrows at him.
Maybe being trapped indoors by the winter wonderland outside was starting to wear on his nerves. I knew I was getting restless, and I was used to this kind of thing. Or maybe—and as soon as it occurred to me, I was convinced it was the explanation—his bad attitude was because Grayson still hadn’t returned.
“When I was twelve,” Cyrus said, his jaw clenching, ignoring our surprised looks, “I was bound to Grayson because it is my place in this world. Warriors must forfeit eight years of their young lives to a noble-caste and earn our right to freedom.”
Eight? What an arbitrary number. I wondered if there was a reason for it.
“Every day I served him, Gray treated me like an equal, like a friend. When my service to him was through, I vowed to be his aide. Every day of those forty years, Gray proved to be a demon worthy of respect, of loyalty.”
Forty years? I quickly did the math. That made Cyrus sixty years old.
“I stand by his side to this day for that green youngling who was befriended by a demon far above his station without prejudice, without question. I’d be proud to die for him. It would be a fine way to go. So don’t tell me I don’t understand loyalty, human.”
“Sheesh,” Benn laughed, slapping the demon on the back. “Overly dramatic much?”
Cy lowered his head, but his eyes met mine. At his panicked expression, I laughed too, and he relaxed.
As I explained cabin fever to Cyrus, Benn settled in, kicked off his boots and snow gear, and made himself at home.
After piling food on plates, and scarfing down as much as we could stand—it actually tasted a little less than it used to—Benn turned to Cyrus, determination in his expression.
“Still want to know about me and Savvy?”
Stunned, I sucked in a breath. I knew the story he would tell, but Benn and I never talked about that night. Sometimes, he’d share memories of his dad and I’d be what he needed me to be, a quiet listener. But not one word was spoken about the night in the graveyard by either of us.
“My mom left when I was nine. Moved to Brazil or somewhere with her personal trainer,” Benn shrugged. “She never was the type to settle down anywhere. But Dad was always around.”
Cyrus sat on the nearest piece of furniture and Rowan leaned against the couch I was lounging on, and listened to a human’s sad story.
“We were driving home from a baseball game. Cardinals won and it began to rain during the hike back to the car. Visibility was shit and people in this city don’t know how to drive when there’s snow, rain, mist…anything.”
I didn’t realize how hard my heart was pounding until Rowan appraised me, betraying his concern. I tried to take deep breaths to calm myself, but couldn’t.
“We were hit from behind,” Benn continued. “Dad couldn’t keep control of the SUV on the wet roads, especially when cars kept piling up around us.”
It hurt to hear about it. Even though Benn sounded fine, almost detached about what happened, I knew it had to be tearing him up inside. It was destroying me.
“I woke up in the hospital and knew he didn’t make it. Savvy hung around my room until they let me out, not sayin’ anything, not tryin’ to make anything better. She…gets things, ya know?”
He wasn’t saying it to anyone in particular.
“But I was only sixteen, and now I was on my own. No more Dad to call when I was in a jam. I was….” Benn shook his head like he needed to dislodge the thoughts he was having.
“The night after the funeral, I swiped a bottle of tequila from Dad’s liquor cabinet and camped out by his grave. I was still on pretty heavy pain meds from the accident. It was almost like I was still unconscious. Trapped. None of it felt real. And I didn’t want to be part of…anything anymore.”
Whenever I thought about that night, I
thought about Benn’s hands. Bloody with cuts from the wreck, filthy from the freshly turned dirt that laid his father to rest, clutching a half-empty bottle of tequila that could have taken him from the world. That night, I kept thinking he was better than this, stronger than giving up. But then I’d consider if it were me, if the father I loved so much had just died, and I respected him for still breathing.
“Savvy knew I’d be there. She showed up and sat with me, didn’t say a word, holding her cell phone in one hand. Didn’t try to get me to stop. Probably thought I wouldn’t listen anyway. I wouldn’t have. Eventually, I asked why she had her cell phone out.”
Benn’s blue eyes met mine, and something inside my chest clenched. “What was it you said, Sav?”
I sniffed and sobbed quietly before saying, “’I have paramedics on speed dial for when you lose consciousness, dickhead.’”
Even Rowan laughed, just as Benn had that night, and that sound surprised me even more than the too-hot tears rolling down my cheeks.
“You know, Sav,” Benn said, his eyes glassy but his voice steady. “Your sixteenth birthday was only a few weeks before the crash.”
Wiping away tears, I couldn’t stand the ragged thumping of my heart as I realized what that meant. If I had chosen the Underrealm, Benn would have been in that graveyard alone.
I must have mumbled something as I raced up the stairs to my apartment to clean up. Crying hadn’t been something I worried about before. Now, it kept happening. It was like my body was making up for the years I’d spent imprisoned inside the glamour.
Thinking about Benn alone that night, on pain meds and drinking tequila, embracing his death wish was too much for me to take. I pushed the thoughts away, knowing I’d have to deal with them sooner or later. But not now.
I was caging a lot lately. Too much.
When I started to go downstairs again, I overheard Cyrus and Benn talking, and stopped halfway down the stairs to listen. Mostly because, after being Benn’s friend for over a decade, and listening to him gush about demons, he was finally getting to talk to one. Why it had taken so long since they’d been around, I didn’t know. But I didn’t want to interrupt.
Defying Instinct (Demon Instinct Series) Page 12