“Is Tanis in danger?”
“Iliana has taken my sister, has threatened her life. Tanis is the only reason I agreed to flip on Noah and be advisor to her. She has…found each of our weaknesses. Apollo, Greta, Stratton. We remained not because of loyalty to Iliana, but because she held something dear to us…hostage.”
It was strategically brilliant, my demon half knew, to make it seem like even the old Royal’s advisors were on the new Royal’s side. It suggested Nikolai and Noah may not have been what demonkind thought, if they couldn’t even keep the loyalty of their own advisors. As long as the truth was kept secret, it was a good political tactic.
“How can we get her out?”
“If I knew, I would have done it already.” He looked at my feet. “Iliana keeps her close.”
Nodding, and letting the information sink in, I asked, “You’re coming with us?”
Grayson nodded as Cyrus jumped in beside him with a tight nod, and manic eyes. Rowan jumped in beside me, and the Tempter turned his gaze back to me.
“I’ll do everything in my power for your sister,” I said, the confidence and earnestness so strong, it was hard to believe it belonged to me.
Grayson leaned in, and I fought against my urge to flinch away. Rowan was at my side. I was safe. But before the Tempter made contact with any part of me, he looked at Rowan, then dropped his head, retreating.
“Thank you,” he finally said.
Relieved, then anxious for what was about to happen, I looked up at Rowan, telling him without words that I was ready.
I felt the sweet, familiar zing as he slid his hand into mine and indulged in the idea that he was savoring the contact too. He was telling me something with that touch, with the white gold sparks that erupted in his eyes.
My pulse skipped, and I projected an intimate transmission of what I felt for him as I telepathed. Don’t let me go.
He growled, low and deep. “Not a chance.”
Together, the four of us jumped
CHAPTER 33
After the whirlwind of the jump, we reappeared at a place that looked like a crowded train terminal, only the structure was grey stone, and I wondered if we were inside a cave somewhere. Demon Union Station was the only way I could define it. To say it wasn’t what I’d expected wouldn’t quite cover it.
No one spoke as we got in a long, looong line. And waited.
And waited.
Looking around, everyone was glamoured, but everyone was a demon. Probably full-castes, traveling from Up Above to the Underrealm.
“Aren’t they going to beat us there?” I whispered to Rowan, who hadn’t let go of my hand since we left The Bookstore.
“We all must go through the Gate. They could not have made it here as quickly as we did.”
Did that mean they had to walk? Were there giant, deep caves like this in St. Louis? How far did Matteo and Octavia have to travel to get here? I wanted to ask, I wanted to know everything I could. It was less to do with curiosity now, and more to do with survival.
But I didn’t ask. If we all made it back Up Above unharmed, then I’d get some answers. We’d sit down, and Grayson, Cyrus, and Rowan would have to tell me everything they could. It was time. Actually, it was long overdue.
No reason our time spent in this line couldn’t be useful, I thought, then looked up at my Sentinel. We’d already been in the unmoving line for several minutes, and Rowan looked twitchy.
Why doesn’t Noah have his own set of advisors? I telepathed to Rowan, and felt appreciation roll off him.
Rowan put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. All pretenses between us were gone, or at least put on hold. I welcomed the contact, knowing it was going to be hard to let it go when my Sentinel pushed me away again.
“Noah was conceived after Nikolai took power,” Rowan explained. “Remember what I told you about females not becoming Royal if they’ve had offspring?”
I nodded, and Grayson looked like he was about to protest, disgruntled about something. Made me wonder if that was something he’d told me in the warehouse, then erased from my memory.
Grayson, looking sour, leaned in. “You have more—what word did you use before?—autonomy than Noah ever could have.”
Why would Iliana have me then, if she planned on becoming Royal? This time I telepathed to all three of them.
The other two males looked at Grayson, so I did the same. Made sense. He should know the most. He was the oldest, an advisor to Nikolai, unofficially to Noah, and to Iliana.
“My guess is, she grew up,” the Tempter muttered, and I didn’t miss the malice in his thoughts. There was no question. Grayson hated my mother.
I didn’t believe that was the reason. There was more to Iliana’s actions. I was sure of it.
Besides, how much could a demon grow up in two decades? It had only been twenty years since she gave birth to me. Could she become so different in that amount of time?
I thought about myself, how much I’d changed in the past week. Looking down at my Italian brown and gold hand, resting casually, as if it had every right to be there, on Rowan’s hard stomach, I took stock of all of the sensations within me. Fear. Love. Determination. Courage. Shamelessly, I clung to the male who clung to me, basking in the heat of him.
There was a thread of hope inside me, hope that Iliana wasn’t what I thought. That she had in fact glamoured me twenty years ago to protect me. That she was sending for me now because she cared for me, and wanted to be in my life.
My situation was unusual, but that meant little. I’d changed so much.
Will you tell me about…I felt embarrassed even though there was no logical reason I should know these things…what exactly a Scion does?
Grayson asked for permission to telepath first, which I immediately granted and felt guilty about. When he answered, telepathing to Cyrus who telepathed to Rowan as a courtesy to them, he didn’t make it seem like a stupid question.
It is tradition. After Astor, every Royal conceived and co-ruled with a Scion. Because Sorcerers were in charge until last year—except two centuries ago when a Reaper got ambitious—there wasn’t even a possibility of having a half-caste Scion.
Right, because Sorcerers couldn’t reproduce with humans, only other Sorcerers. I waded through the disjointed information, and closed my eyes for a moment, wishing I hadn’t figured out what I just figured out.
So basically you’re saying I’m not only the first half-caste Scion, I’m the first one ever to be conceived before the Royal took power?
Grayson’s features contorted, saying unfortunately, that was the gist of it.
“Fantastic,” I said aloud dryly, snuggling closer to Rowan.
That meant no one knew what my position was supposed to entail. No wonder no one told me anything about it yet. It wasn’t just because I was a half-caste who usually wouldn’t get to know these things. There was nothing to tell.
Eventually, the line moved and Cyrus took the lead. The demon at the Gate was a fully glamoured Mischief demon. In fact, looking around, all of the lines led up to a glamoured Mischief demon at a podium.
Sensing my interest, Rowan pulled me even closer to his side, his arm heavy and comforting around my shoulders. “Fae are always Guardians of the Gate. Devils set the rules, but the Fae do the work.”
A few minutes later, we were granted access to the Gate, whatever that was, and were allowed to pass through. No one looked twice at me, even though I knew they must have known who I was. My skin hummed. Rowan’s skin hummed. And everyone kept saying I looked like Iliana. Yet, no one noticed us at all.
The Gate was an arch dug into a cave wall, making an opening into a dark cavern. I couldn’t see much up ahead, but let Rowan lead me as I looked up at the canopy of the cave. Etchings marked the stone, intricate carvings that resembled Celtic knots intertwined from one side to the other. They were even across the ground, making a continuous seal. I wondered if it was a spell of some kind, one that appeared on all openings to t
he Underrealm, so everyone had to wait in line at Demon Union Station and register before going down below.
The calculating, demon part of me wondered if there were any points of entry into the ‘realm that weren’t regulated.
Once we passed the seal and the cave, we jumped again. Rowan didn’t give me any warning, but I was quickly getting used to the whirlwind sensation. It was like I could sense when it was coming.
When we reappeared, we were deep in the Underrealm. I’d never been there, but it felt eerily familiar.
Since Faction and Division had been entirely not what I had expected, and the Gate terminal had been beyond bizarre, I’d prepared myself for the same reaction to the Underrealm. But it was like I’d always imagined.
Everything was black and grey, stone and soot. It was like stepping into one of my old smoke-and-fire rages, a real, live nightmare.
The air was so arid, sweat broke out along my forehead instantly. It kind of felt like standing too close to an inferno, only there was no chance of stepping away. The air smelled grimy, like old ash and a mild hint of sulfur. It stung my senses, and my eyes watered, but I had to deal with it. I couldn’t show weakness here.
As we walked, I took in the sights, trusting Rowan to guide me. It was like a sinister town square. Carts of freaky looking items—some squiggling—lined the street and demons walked in every direction. A fight broke out in the middle of the square between what looked like two Razer males, though I couldn’t be sure from our distance. I watched unblinking as three demons wearing full, crude body armor pulled the demons apart.
Snap.
One of the demon’s neck broke, the sound echoing across the square, seeming to surround me. One of the armored demons let the Razer’s lifeless body crumple mercilessly to the black, sooty ground with a sickening thump.
As we walked farther, and the scene with the now dead Razer male was no longer in view, I noticed everyone gawking. Unlike at Demon Union Station, everyone was noticing us. Rowan’s arm was no longer around my shoulder, and I felt the loss of the contact deep inside. But I understood. He had to be on guard now, and it was obvious, with as much attention the four of us were getting, that his protection was necessary. My Sentinel walked a step ahead of me, and a bit to the side, keeping me in his peripheral vision but able to survey the terrain ahead. The Razer in me approved.
We had the attention of the entire square now. Hundreds of demon eyes were on me. The attention made me anxious.
How am I supposed to act?
I telepathed to all three of my sentries as we walked through the crowd that parted in front of us, both glamoured and unglamoured demons bowing low as we passed. I felt self-conscious and fidgety.
Grayson said, “Just ignore them.”
So I did, even though it made my stomach turn. I’d appear superior, too good to acknowledge their presence. But I didn’t know what else to do.
CHAPTER 34
If I had been accurate about the ‘realm as a whole, then I was absolutely spot on when it came to Iliana’s palace.
A black stone castle reached high in the air with jagged rocks protruding menacingly at all angles, as if the structure had been chiseled from a mountain and made to frighten with images of bodies falling from the high tower and being skewered on those jagged rocks.
It was strange to look up and not see sky. A blanket of darkness canopied everything.
The energy of the air was charged, like a lightning storm. If we were above ground, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see vultures and other flying predators circling high above. The guards, all Hammer demons I was willing to bet, were dressed in armor, crude, metal sheets covering their chests and helmets with low brims concealing their faces, like the ones in the square before.
Don’t stray from your Sentinel, Grayson telepathed along with a stiffness which seemed needless until I saw the demon walking towards us from inside the fortress. Even telling me to stay close to Rowan, which I would have thought would piss Grayson off seemed wrong, because he wasn’t pissed off. He was concerned.
The Hammer coming our way was the hugest male I had ever seen. A hulking monster so tall and so broad, he had to hunch while walking through the corridor made for monsters. He had to be eight feet tall and four feet wide. Only, when he met us at the door, I saw he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, not crude body armor. And though he looked frightening, even glamoured, and filled me with a sense of dread, there was a look of welcome in his metallic eyes.
At first I didn’t recognize him. Once I did, I imagined Benn rolling his eyes at my ignorance. This male was Apollo, the Hammer advisor. He looked smaller in magazine photos.
“Grayson. Cyrus,” the Hammer advisor nodded, his voice like a bass guitar. “Greta and I arrived moments ago.”
“Have you seen Stratton?” Grayson asked.
Apollo didn’t even look at Rowan, but gave me a tight nod without looking at me before responding. “He is in with her now.”
Cyrus and Grayson looked grim at the news.
“I suggest waiting in the banquet hall. I will try to send Stratton if…” the hulking demon shifted ever so slightly, “when he is released.”
A sharp nod from Grayson, and Apollo left. I watched his enormous back as he lumbered down the corridor, amazed by how huge he was.
“How is he so big?”
“We never stop growing,” Rowan said, and I looked at Cyrus, wondering if the big, scary version of the cute, dimpled demon was closer to what he looked like unglamoured. He was, after all, forty years older than Rowan.
“Why doesn’t he jump?” I asked, watching him hunch down even lower as he turned the corner, out of our range of sight.
Rowan didn’t turn, didn’t look at me at all. “She has put a ban on jumping within the fortress.”
“How can she regulate it? How would she even know?”
“Devil magic,” Rowan said, his tone bleak.
I was desperate to reach out and touch him. The empty, rigid set of his presence kept me in line, but ignited my need to comfort him. And myself. I needed to know, no matter what was happening on the outside, Rowan was still Rowan on the inside.
I wished he could telepath with me, but knew that was impossible.
With Cyrus silently leading the way, the four of us entered the dark stone palace and maneuvered through corridors, some wide and tall, some low and narrow. None of them were too small for me, but my three sentries had some trouble, occasionally resorting to shuffling through sideways, their broad chests scraping against the stone.
It took me most of the walk to realize why the fortress hadn’t been built with demon size in mind. Sorcerers were little. Short and slim, even more so than average humans. This palace, this fortress for Royalty, was made for Sorcerers.
We were in such a hurry, I didn’t get to look around much. Though I knew this was probably the most dangerous place for me to be right now, I wanted to go wandering around. Who knew what was around the next corner? I wondered if there was a library, somewhere they kept all of their records. Or was I thinking too much like a human? Did demons keep records like humans did?
But I didn’t get to explore, and as Cyrus threw open a set of double, iron doors, I knew we had reached the banquet hall.
It wasn’t much to see either. More dark stone and dirty, black grunge crunched below our feet. A long, stone table and an iron chandelier hung down, a million little flames dancing along it, illuminating the room. Pretty badly, too. I could barely see.
Luckily, Grayson, Cyrus and Rowan could. All I had to do was follow.
Rowan pulled an iron chair from under the table for me, and I took it, but he didn’t sit down. Arms folded across his chest, he stood behind me, face blank, eyes forward.
Grayson sat across from me, but Cyrus stood behind him, just as Rowan stood behind me.
Hardly any time passed before a parade of demons wearing tattered, dingy pieces of fabric over their bodies shuffled in on silent feet. A ballet of trays and cups
flew past, and quickly littered the stone table without making even the slightest sound on impact. Just as quickly as they arrived, the parade was over.
It wasn’t until another demon entered the hall before I snapped out of the hypnotized state the flurry of silent action had put me in. When I looked at the little demon carrying a jug of something in both of her hands, I couldn’t help but stare.
Reapers were only slightly less elusive than Sorcerers. Demonology books didn’t even have images of them unglamoured, just guesses on how they’d look.
They appeared almost totally human, which added credibility to the theory that Reapers were the only demons that were once human. The assumption was, they got recruited, or tricked most likely, into agreeing to a deal. It was exactly what the well-known phrase warned against. They made a deal with a demon.
This female couldn’t have been more than sixteen when she was turned. Though it was covered by a scarf like every other female I’d seen so far, her long, dark, thick hair couldn’t be completely hidden and fell to her hips. Big, exotic brown eyes, skin that suggested Middle Eastern descent, and elegantly nimble hands drew my attention even before the intricate tattoos.
The thick, black markings encircled her neck, wrists, and ankles. Smaller, more delicate markings ran up the sides of her legs, stomach, arms, and shoulders, and kept going up to and around her ears. I wondered if they went under her hair, but forced myself not to lean closer to investigate.
Her clothes were, I thought, specifically designed to display those tattoos, because I could see them go from her slippered feet all the way to her face, little in the way of fabric marring the lines.
And she looked sad. Her exotic eyes looked pained.
The waves of vague emotion I felt from other demons were noticeably absent when I reached out to her mentally, trying to understand why her eyes looked so sad. I could sense something strange and sour, but only mildly.
Defying Instinct (Demon Instinct Series) Page 22