by Lizzy Ford
The guard allowed her and her fanged babysitter to enter the cell. As usual, her guardian angel, Mithra, had fallen behind at some point during their journey from the fourth floor to the catacombs.
Kiki’s eye was black, his lip swollen, and he bore bruises all over his body. He was chained to the far wall. He lifted his head.
“Brought you the blanket you requested. And candy bars,” Stephanie said. Every time she saw the condition of one of her brothers, she experienced a flush of warm fury. She passed the blanket and food to Kiki, who didn’t have any sort of creature comforts in the cell.
“Now I won’t freeze to death every night,” Kiki said.
“You look worse than usual.” Stephanie had given up trying to understand how none of her brothers appeared upset or angry with their father. They acted as if being thrown into his dungeon and occasionally tortured was routine.
“I mouthed off to a guard. Or five,” Kiki said nonchalantly. “What you got?” He held out his hand for the iPad she carried.
She also didn’t understand how Kiki could care about the castle’s business when imprisoned. It defied reasoning that he’d want to help the man who sentenced him to prison.
“Invoices for supplies shipments, utilities and food orders, among a bunch of other shit about the administrative infrastructure I don’t understand,” she replied. “Accounting isn’t my thing. I couldn’t …”
Before she finished the sentence, Kiki handed the tablet back. “I fixed the numbers.”
Stephanie glanced down at the screen. In seconds, Kiki had balanced the books she’d spent a week struggling to understand.
“How do you do that?” she asked, perplexed. “Am I that bad at it?”
“Numbers are my gift. They make sense to me, unlike people,” Kiki responded. “But perfect numbers aren’t going to fix the core issues. Wynn won’t listen to me when I tell him we need permanent solutions to sustain our operations and function as a cohesive society. We can throw money at the problems but at some point, we have to fix the underlying issues.”
“I’d listen to you,” she said.
Kiki smiled. “I know. You’re the only one with any sense around here.”
“Thanks. You don’t have to help me, you know.”
“Nothing else to do. It’s nice to keep an eye on what’s going on. When I’m free, someday, I’ll go right back to managing all this shit. I’d rather it be in order when I do.”
“I really hope that happens sooner than later, if only because I’m a terrible administrator.”
“I’m not optimistic.”
Stephanie suppressed a sigh. “Where does all this money come from anyway?” On paper, Wynn was a multi-trillionaire whose net worth was in the fourteen digits.
“Thousands of years of savings and securing real properties all over the world. If you owned half of Paris or a block in Manhattan, you’re pretty much set,” Kiki said. “Wynn built the foundation long before coins and bills existed, and Kris has had a good eye for high risk, high rewards investing. There used to be more, but we created a fund to support the Immortal families a few hundred years ago and deposited half of our money into it to support the community.”
She shook her head. “I can’t even imagine that much money. How long do you think you’ll be down here? I can definitely use the help with all this administrative stuff.”
“Who knows?” Kiki rested his head against the back wall of the cell, unconcerned. “When Kris was pissed, he used to send us to the dungeon for a decade or two, and he exiled Rhyn to Hell for a few centuries.”
The expanses of time no longer surprised her. On days when she was pissed at the world for the change of her circumstances, she believed the real problem plaguing the Immortals was their lifespans. If they had a limited time on earth, perhaps they would appreciate their world and family and wouldn’t collectively be such bitter assholes.
“All right. Want me to bring you anything else next time?” Stephanie asked.
“The usual. A box of candy bars.”
“Sure,” she said. “Thanks for the help.”
“No problem.” Kiki wadded up the blanket and placed it beneath his neck as he stretched out on the floor.
Stephanie made a mental note to bring him a pillow next time as well as the candy bars. She left her brother in his cell and went to the next one, where Rhyn was imprisoned. The jailer opened the door.
Stephanie stopped in the doorway. “What the hell?”
“Hey, sis.” Rhyn’s inhuman voice resulted from the fact he had morphed into his demon form, a furry monster with wings, fangs and talons. He was sprawled out on his stomach on the floor, one wing pointed to the ceiling and the other propping up the letter he read. His liquid silver eyes shifted from the letter to her.
Unlike Kiki, he wasn’t chained. The guards appeared to understand he was there by choice, because he could have broken out at any second. Or they were as terrified of his different forms as she was.
“You know it freaks me out when you do that, don’t you?”
He gave a smoky laugh and toothy grin that made her shudder. “Better than last week.”
Stephanie didn’t want to think about what her shapeshifter brother had been last week. He’d transformed into something she’d never seen anywhere else with too many legs, multiple wings, and a dozen eyes. She’d had nightmares for two days.
Rhyn, her favorite brother – aside from Andre – liked to fuck with her.
“Any thoughts on Rhyn-smashing this place this week?” she asked, stepping into the small cell.
“He said he’ll spare my family if I play nice,” Rhyn growled.
“You believe him?”
“Wynn won’t break his promises. Just manipulates and tortures.”
“Don’t forget murder.”
Rhyn bared his fangs in what she assumed was a smile. “What’s up, sis?” he asked.
“Just doing my weekly check up to make sure you guys are still alive,” she replied.
“He can’t kill me, so yeah.”
It wasn’t the greatest logic she’d ever heard. Stephanie pulled his presents out of her tote bag. She rested a stack of seven letters and a photo on the floor beside his head. Rhyn’s wife, Katie, wrote him every day.
Unconcerned about the grime and dirt, Rhyn shifted forward on his belly and plucked the photo up. He smiled at the picture of his mate and child. “As long as they’re safe, I don’t care what Wynn does to me,” he said.
“You should really write her back,” Stephanie chided him, not for the first time.
“She knows I love her.”
“She’s a woman. It’s not that easy.”
If a blood-sucking demon in its non-human form could appear thoughtful, he did.
“Write her back or face her wrath when you meet again.”
He grimaced. “She can definitely unleash hell. You have a pen?”
Stephanie pulled pen and a notebook out of her bag. “I’ll come get your letter tomorrow. Make it sweet.”
“Demons don’t do sweet,” Rhyn replied.
“It’s your ass on the line, not mine,” Stephanie replied. “What do you want me to bring you next week?”
“A bottle of whiskey.”
Her brothers didn’t ask for much, considering they were stuck in a dungeon at the bottom of a catacombs with no guarantee their father would ever free them.
“Oh, Kiki said he forgot to tell you something.” Rhyn tilted his head to the side, listening to the telepathic message from his brother in the neighboring cell. “He said to bring his other iPad next time. He’s bored and wants to run some different numbers.”
“Why can’t I talk to you guys like that?” she asked.
“Maybe you can in time. It took us a while to figure it out.” Rhyn’s attention went to the notebook. Unable to hold a pen with his talons, he picked up the picture again.
Intrigued by the idea she could one day speak to her brothers telepathically, Stephanie left Rhyn in h
is cell and went to the next one, where the former death dealer and antiquities collector, Tamer, was chained. He had a cot and several stacks of books.
“It’s about fucking time!” he snapped when she entered.
“Good to see you, too, Tamer,” Stephanie replied. “Brought you more books.”
“Good ones?”
“How would I know? I can’t read whatever language this is. I just grabbed them out of the study.” She pulled three dusty tomes from her tote bag and handed them to the surliest of her brothers.
He took them and glanced at the spines. “Better than nothing, but not by much,” he muttered.
“Do you have to be a jerk every time?”
“I need more than three next week.” Tamer settled in a corner with his book. Ignoring her, he began to read.
“You’re welcome!” Stephanie snapped.
She exited the cell, gaze on Trayern.
“Hey, Tamer, do you happen to have a charity set up?” she called, leaning back into the cell.
“Two,” was the response.
“For what?”
“Teaching children in underprivileged countries to read.”
Stephanie glared at her guard demon, irritated. Trayern gave her the knowing look he often did, when she realized he was right about something.
She left Tamer to read and went to the next cell assigned to Kris – the former head of the Council. The most polished of those in the dungeon, he had been provided a chair, small table and cot by guards who either had been bribed or who liked him. His cell was bigger than the others, too, and he wasn’t chained. Likewise, he bore no bruises or signs of torture or abuse, and he had a trunk and bookshelf where he’d placed whatever he could convince the guards to bring him.
“Morning, Stephanie,” he said when she walked through the door. His hair was pure white, like their father’s, and his eyes changed colors based on his mood. Today, they were green, a hue she had learned meant he was content.
“Hey, Kris.” She presented this week’s request, a box of cigars and lighter.
“From Wynn’s stash?”
“Yep.”
“Perfect,” Kris said and accepted them with a smile. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
“Wynn buys the good stuff. I trade these to the guards for favors.”
“Guess I’m not surprised.” Stephanie glanced at the shelves holding his treasures. “You have your own stash of liquor.”
“Wynn isn’t the only person good at manipulating others,” Kris replied smoothly. “In a month, I’ll have everything I could ever need in here.”
Recalling the stories about Kris, who was known both for being a mini-Wynn and disregarding the rules Wynn held in esteem, Stephanie was never sure what to think of her second oldest brother. His view of how to lead had clashed with Wynn’s, no matter how similar the two were when it came to ruthlessly using and discarding people. No one had explained to her the full extent of Kris’ medical experiments and the other heinous acts he’d committed during his reign. That Wynn considered Kris’ methods brutal was enough to warn Stephanie she didn’t want to go near that rabbit hole.
For all his faults, Kris, like his father, was widely respected for ensuring the survival of the very Immortals he tormented after Wynn’s initial death and for stopping several large demon incursions. She was consistently vexed by how complex, and often contradictory, the members of her family could be.
“How’s life above ground?” Kris asked and set the cigars and lighter on his table.
“Rough,” she admitted. “Lost mate, exiled sister and mother, four brothers in prison. I could be a one-person reality television show.”
Kris smiled. “I don’t think any network could stomach the dynamics of our family.”
“Probably not.”
“You’re upset today.”
She met his gaze. Like their father, Kris saw too much, and like their father, he stored the information away for use against someone later. She’d once asked him how he did it, and his unsettling response had been that he always just knew things. Neither Wynn nor Kris would ever reveal the extent of their abilities and knowledge.
The main difference between father and son: Kris was warm, where Wynn was cold. It didn’t make Kris any less dangerous. If anything, he had the ability to lure people into a false state of trust, which he had the first time she met him. Even knowing what he was, sometimes Stephanie truly believed he cared.
“More so than usual,” Kris added at her silence.
Trusting him was unwise, but sometimes, Stephanie needed someone to talk to. She provided him with limited information, in case he found a use for it.
“It just gets harder by the day,” she replied and rubbed her face. “I’m running myself ragged all day listening to the petitioners, poorly attempting to balance the books, and whatever else Wynn wants done. I’m fed up with everything and miss my family. I’m terrified of confronting or crossing Wynn, because I don’t want him to hurt my family. And, unlike you guys, I have no intentions of spending an eternity in prison. It doesn’t leave me with many options.”
“Do what you’re told,” Kris advised. “Appease Wynn and protect your family.”
“I know, I know. He’ll fuck me up, if I don’t.”
“Exactly. What of Fate?”
A pang of longing hit her hard enough to render her speechless. She tried hard not to think of her mate, who had been sentenced to Hell by none other than the father she was forced to obey. The more she pushed Fate out of her mind, the stronger she yearned for him. All she thought about most days was whether he was going to survive the Dark One and if so, what shape he’d be in, assuming he was released. During the single visit she’d been permitted to make to Hell, Fate had claimed he had a plan.
Several weeks later, nothing had changed. Immortals and deities viewed weeks with the same dismissal she did seconds, but she couldn’t imagine waiting months, years, decades or longer for Fate to make his move and return to her.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Kris murmured.
“I’m always upset,” Stephanie said with a sad smile.
“Stay strong. If you need support of some kind, ask Wynn to let your mother and sister come to the castle,” Kris said. “You know he’ll do it. He loves having leverage on people.”
“Which is exactly why I haven’t asked him and won’t,” Stephanie said. “I just want …” Normal. But normal wasn’t an option and never would be again. “I guess I want my family – all of you – free and happy and not to fear whatever craziness Wynn has in store.”
“Good luck with that,” Kris said. “Might be better to accept things as they are for now. None of us are getting out of the dungeon any time soon. Wynn’s not just disappointed, he’s pissed. The last time he was angry with me, I spent two hundred years in a cell. I was twelve.”
“That’s insane,” she breathed, pitying him.
“It’s nothing when you have an eternity, especially when there’s always the possibility of being resurrected like I was. It makes you appreciate being alive but also makes you want to scream when you realize you’ll be alive forever.”
Along with their father, Andre and Kris had both been dead-dead and resurrected by Death. Stephanie appreciated Andre being alive. She suspected the world was better off without the other two.
“Besides, I can find ways to make my life comfortable.” Kris winked. “Take care of you, your mother and sister. We’ll be fine down here. It is what it is for now.”
“If you say so.”
“Sometimes you have to wait for the right opportunity to act. Our family is not exactly opposed to using violence when warranted,” Kris said. “I know it’s not your first choice, but you might want to consider it an option. The first person who puts down Wynn takes control of the Council.”
His words chilled her, not only because she heard the ambition in his tone, but because she doubted the Immortals would survive Kris a second
time. She didn’t need to speak to every Immortal in existence to understand there were some serious divisions forming within the society. Based on their history beneath the Council’s brutal rule, they had every reason to rebel.
“What do you want me to bring you next week?” she asked, not about to go down that path with Kris.
“Diet soda, please.”
Her brothers were easy to please despite the terrible conditions they lived in. Stephanie nodded and left.
Trailed by her guard demon, Stephanie made her way through the creepy dungeon once more and returned to her chamber on the fourth floor of the castle. She was supposed to be listening to petitioners this morning, but she wanted no part of talking to anyone. Her head was a mess, and her dreams had been of Fate. She awoke crying.
She summoned a portal to visit the Sanctuary where her family was hiding out.
The portal fizzled and disappeared.
Stephanie groaned. Wynn had disabled her ability to enter the place-between-places and go anywhere. When she asked how that was possible, Andre had explained that the magic of the castle, which originated from Wynn, obeyed whoever was in charge. If Wynn didn’t want someone entering the castle, he could bar them. If he wanted to invite demons to his soiree to eat his guests, he could likewise grant them entrance.
She turned to her guard demon. Mithra, the guardian angel, who had to have been millions of years old, hadn’t yet joined them. It normally took him an hour to catch up after she visited the dungeon.
“Trayern, can you –” she started.
“I’m not your bitch,” the demon replied calmly.
“You’re not much of a guardian, either,” she muttered and touched her abdomen where Wynn had stabbed her.
The demon glared at her. “Don’t fuck with me, half-breed.”
“How much longer will you be here?” Stephanie asked.
“Until the boss says I can go home.”
Trayern, one of Darkyn’s most trusted lieutenants, had been assigned to prevent her from entering Hell again as well as protect her in a deal Fate made with the Dark One. Without a soul, she was un-trackable by demons and able to move in and out of Hell without anyone knowing, which had pissed off the demon lord Darkyn.