Historical books sounded amazing. Gran had told me a lot about the history of mankind, but to read about it, see pictures of what she described would be opening up a whole new world to me.
I imagined myself sprawled out on my bed surrounded by numerous books, educating myself with the history of the world. “Can I take books to my room to read?”
“Of course, but you can read downstairs as well. You’ve no need to hide in your room.”
“Are there any books about here?” I turned to face him, and expanded my sentence when he frowned. “Anything about what it was like before you all came.”
“For this area?”
I nodded.
Paymon walked toward the wall opposite the door and began looking along a line of books.
“Do you even know where you are?”
“England,” I said. “I was born in York.”
“And where are you now? England is a significant sized country, or rather, it was before the coastline moved inland.”
“I know I’m somewhere near York. Gran didn’t move us far.”
“You’re in a wood just outside what was the village of Buttercrambe. Here.” He pulled a book from the shelf and took it to the desk.
I joined him as he flicked through the pages. Once he found what he was looking for, he placed the book open on the desk.
“Here’s a map of England, Scotland and Wales. This,” he said, pointing to an area half way up the right-hand side of the irregular shape, “is York. Buttercrambe is just to the east.”
I pulled a chair to the desk and sat down, devouring the information.
“Does this show where the sea used to be or where it is now?” I asked.
He rummaged around on the disorganised desk, finally finding a piece of discoloured paper. Quickly drawing a copy of the image on the page in the book, he shaded in the sea surrounding the land.
“This is how it was,” he tapped the pencil on his drawing, “and this will be where it is now.” He drew another line inside the outline of the other. “The sea covers all the low lying land that used to be around the coast. In some areas it remains the same, but people will not go back for fear of another great wave coming.” He quickly shaded in the area between the old outline and his new one. “The coast is nearer to York than it was before, the river runs through it at a higher level.”
I studied his drawing intently. “Will I ever be able to go back?”
Paymon shook his head. “The cities are not safe.” He pushed his chair away from the table. “Not for any of us.”
I frowned as he wandered away.
“Find a book, Athena, and don’t take too long.”
“Why’s it not . . . safe?”
He was already out of the room, his shoes tapping on the wooden floor in the hall as he left me alone.
I looked at the map in the book and Paymon’s drawing. Things had definitely changed—so much land had disappeared. I suspected it was the same across the whole of the world. And what did he mean that the cities weren’t safe for anyone?
I turned the book to see the front cover. Simply titled Maps of the World, it contained a treasure of information about different countries and their climates and people. I wondered how much of it was relevant now. I flicked through the book, staring in wonder at the buildings and technology that had been prolific in various parts of the world. It was difficult to visualise a world any different to what I knew. Paymon had mentioned finding a fictional book, and as I flicked through the images on the pages in front of me, I realised that this book was as fictional to me as others would be to Paymon.
I closed the book of maps and their corresponding information before searching out one of the names he had mentioned earlier. With so many books to look through, I found it impossible to locate any of the so called classics he’d suggested. I decided to close my eyes and simply pull a book from a shelf.
The thick book that presented itself to me was an anthology of stories, fables from times gone by.
I took another lingering look around the room before blowing the candles out and heading to the living room. Paymon was sitting at his desk, writing notes at an alarmingly fast rate. I settled on the sofa and Odin fluttered into the room, silently landing next to me. He leaned against my thigh, his beard fluffing as he croaked quietly in his throat. As my confidence around him grew, so did my curiosity about his actions, and without pausing for thought, I reached out to touch him. I rubbed my finger back and forth on the top of his head, creating a ruffled hairstyle. He didn’t move away or try to peck me; he turned his head sideways as if to give me a better angle. I subdued a giggle as he closed his eyes and appeared to take a deep breath.
“Most unusual,” Paymon said.
I looked up to see him watching Odin and me.
“The only person he has ever let touch him is me. Seems you have made as much an impression on Odin as you have on me.” He smiled before standing. “Ahhh, I see you’ve selected a book.”
I held the book so he could see the cover.
Paymon clicked his finger, and Odin immediately flew onto his shoulder.
“I need to go to the village to compel Hannah and Julie,” he said, his words a whisper as he spoke to Odin. “You will stay with Athena. Perhaps she’ll read to you while I’m gone.” He strode across the room and out into the hall.
I shuffled after him, undecided on whether I wanted to be left alone in this strange house. When he opened the door to the darkness outside, a chilling cold swept inside. I shivered, backing away from the icy blast. Paymon turned his head slightly, gave me a crooked grin and then pulled the hood of the cloak over his head. The door slammed shut and every candle in the hall extinguished.
I STARTLED AT THE SUDDEN loss of light. It didn’t frighten me—I was more than used to the dark—but I couldn’t help but wonder what had caused it. Had Paymon somehow extinguished the candles? And if so, why? To frighten me, to show he was still in charge and powerful? I didn’t need his reminder.
Odin squawked, and I followed his call back to the room. As soon as I stepped inside, he flew toward me and landed on my shoulder. I tipped my head away from him.
“What’s wrong? Do you not like it when he’s gone?”
He croaked in his throat and padded his feet on my shoulder.
“Hey,” I turned to give him a sideways stare, “you’ll have to get down if you keep doing that.” He remained still but continued with his throat noises.
I bit down a smile at the unexpected situation I was now in. This was the perfect opportunity to try and discover more. I crossed the room to Paymon’s desk, my focus on the drawers. Odin dropped onto the mess of papers and busied himself pecking and playing with a pencil. I lifted the lit lantern from the top of the desk and lowered it to the drawers.
The first drawer was full of papers, some with symbols surrounded by writing. I took the top piece of paper and held it near the lantern. I couldn’t make anything out—the writing was impossible to read. It was the same strange arrangement of letters that were in the book I’d brought with me.
“Stupid demon language.” I didn’t just want to know what was written in my book; I wanted to know what he was writing and researching. Perhaps his notes would give me information about this life I’d been traded in to, and I could gain some understanding of what lay ahead.
The pentacle symbol, the same as the mark on my hand, was drawn in various places on the page, with other symbols joining it: a spiral, and what looked like a double-headed axe. I turned the paper over, eagerly searching for anything that made sense. There wasn’t.
“Stupid, stupid language.” I placed the paper back on top of the other haphazardly arranged ones.
The next drawer proved to be just as messy as the first. My heart sunk, and I slammed the drawer shut. There was nothing here that could help me.
“Time to explore.” I smoothed my dress with my hands and walked to the door. “Are you coming?” I said, looking back at Odin as he threw a pe
ncil across the room. “You look bored. Why don’t you show me around?”
He flapped his wings and squawked at me but didn’t move from the desk.
“I’ll explore by myself then.” I headed into the hall, and peered past the library doorway. “What’s down here?” I followed a narrow corridor that ran to the back of the house. Odin must have changed his mind as he appeared behind me, bouncing along the wooden floor. I smiled, enjoying his company, and held the lantern high, lighting the unknown.
The corridor turned to a sharp right under the stairs, before a further door presented itself. But my attention was drawn to a brightness shining through the window to my left. Through the panes of glass was a rosebush with dark red flowers. It was highlighted in a ray of light. The blooms ranged from small and tight to large and full. I’d never seen anything so beautiful. I pressed my nose against the cold glass eager to take in every detail of the lit bush. I didn’t move until the glass became misty from my warm breath. This must be the rosebush from which Paymon had selected the rose for me and where he had got the petals for my bath. It was also the beam of light that I’d seen when I had first arrived at the house. But why hadn’t I seen it before, from the staircase above that overlooked the same courtyard?
I stared upward through the window, following the seemingly random beam of light. I had no doubt that this was a spell of Paymon’s—parting the darkness, like he did over the fields. No other plants grew in the courtyard, just the solitary rosebush, but there was an archway leading out of the stone walled courtyard. I couldn’t see what lay beyond.
Odin cawed at my feet, and I lowered the lantern before stepping to the door in front of me. There was a key in the lock, and with a quick turn, the mechanism clicked. I wriggled the handle and edged the door open.
“Wow . . .” My eyes widened and a rush of heat radiated through my chest. I bounced on my feet as I looked around. It was a kitchen: a huge kitchen, dimly lit by three hanging lanterns. A large wooden table that near enough filled the room was in the middle. A cast iron stove, one like we had in the main hall in the village, filled a wide chimney breast. The fire in the stove burnt brightly, throwing its impressive heat into the room.
There was no sign of any pots or pans, even though the smell of bacon still hung in the air. I wandered further into the room, moving clockwise around the table. Odin fluttered onto the far corner of the table but didn’t make any vocal sounds as he stared at the floor.
“What is it?” I asked, unable to see what he was staring at.
A soft snore sounded from the area of the room where Odin was, and I stilled. My fixed smiled slipped away and I held my breath. My gaze flitted between Odin and the corner of the room where the snoring came from. I tightened my shoulders and approached the area Odin was staring at. When I lowered my lantern the light illuminated a white creature in a basket on the floor. I cocked my head sideways, trying to make out what it was. Was it a large dog, curled up, asleep? My heart raced at my unexpected discovery, but then I frowned. There was no hair on its body—just deathly white skin covering angular bones. Whatever it was let out another soft snore, and then uncurled from its sleeping position. The head of whatever was in the basket was covered in jet black hair.
It wasn’t a dog.
I swallowed, but my throat was dry. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to wake it.
I stepped backward on my tiptoes, and moved with a deliberate slow pace, not taking my eyes off the basket. I froze when my leg brushed against an object, and waited for the inevitable noise that would follow. As soon as the deafening crash sounded out, I sprang into action. I shot toward the doorway that led back to the hall, but tripped over the bucket and mop I’d knocked over.
Odin squawked, and from the urgency of his call, I had no need to look toward the basket.
A sinister hiss exploded from the corner of the kitchen, and I scrambled to the door on my hands and knees. My heart thumped wildly as I caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of the room. I staggered to my feet, but a sickening thud made me turn my head. Crouched on skinny feet, with razor-sharp angled bones and lanky fingers scratching the table top, was the creature. Sunken eyes shone through a layer of long, black hair, and it hissed. I whimpered and turned my attention back to my escape.
Odin took to the air and created so much noise that I could hardly hear the snarling that came from the awakened beast.
I reached for the doorknob, but my sweaty hand slipped on the metal. As I dared to glance back into the kitchen, I screamed.
The creature was advancing across the table. The glow from the fire reflected in its eyes. I saw pain, anger, and death. My death.
It crouched low on its back legs, knees bent, prepared to launch itself at me.
Odin attacked—a flurry of squawks and black feathers, mixed with snarls and pale, waving arms.
I wiped my sweaty hands on my dress, focused on the door, and reached for the handle again. This time I kept hold of it, turned it, and pulled as hard as I could. Amid all the squawking and snarling, the door swung open.
“Odin, quick!” I called as I slipped through the opening.
He left his attack and flew to the door, flying past me and into the hallway.
The creature sprung from the table, arms reaching for me. The door blocked its body but not its hands. Claw-like fingers stretched over my hold on the handle. Blood sprung from the puncture wounds. I pulled the door hard, trapping its arm against the edge, but it still didn’t release me. A loud hiss, a pull on the door by my attacker, and the kitchen was in full view again—so was the creature. It bared its sharp teeth and tightened its hold on my hand.
I screamed and attempted to release the door handle to shake its hand off mine, but its hold was too tight. I scratched wildly at it, but it wouldn’t let go. Wide-eyed and furious, it took a step toward me, snarling louder than any beast I’d ever heard.
Then, with no warning, it released me. It turned away.
I didn’t wait to see what else it was going to do, and with a snarl of my own, I pulled the door shut and locked it with the key.
I stumbled away from the door and leaned against the wall. My heart was racing and my chest heaving. I lifted a trembling hand to my forehead and tipped my head backward. Tears welled up behind my eyes as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. Were there any other dangerous creatures hiding in other rooms? And why hadn’t Paymon told me about what he kept in the kitchen?
As my breathing became steady, sharp stings of pain pricked my hand. I was bleeding. The creature had sliced my skin several times with its claws. I needed to stem the blood, bandage my hand.
“What the hell was that creature, and why was it in the kitchen?” I snapped at Odin who was nonchalantly preening himself on the bannister. He offered no response.
I slumped onto the step at the bottom of the stairs and yanked at the hem of my dress. Within moments I had a strip of material to bandage my bleeding hand. I didn’t move into the room for a more comfortable seat. I chose to stay where I was and wait for Paymon in the gloom he’d created when he left. As soon as he came through the door he could see what had happened.
How long would he be?
What would he say to explain the creature?
I huffed and folded my arms, staring at the doorway. Highly alert, each creak, each small sound made my chest tighten and my heart thud erratically. Time drifted on, and I shifted on the step, my bones aching from sitting on the hard wooden ledge.
Odin cawed loudly, several times in succession, and within moments, Paymon’s hooded figure entered the hall.
He looked at me and frowned before removing his cloak and hanging it up. Flames shot from his hands to light the candles in the sconces.
“Why are you sitting in the dark?”
I shrugged before responding, “Someone made the candles go out when they left. And I’m sitting here because I’m waiting for you.”
He smiled, but the expression was quickly gone as he spot
ted my hand. He crossed the space between us with two long strides. “What happened?”
“I found the kitchen.”
His black eyes widened, and he drew in a sharp breath.
“You’re lucky to be alive.”
I jumped to my feet. “What the hell have you got in there? You gave me no warning about exploring, and you certainly never told me to keep out of the kitchen. Don’t you think that would have been a sensible thing to do considering what’s in there?”
Paymon huffed before walking to the lounge.
I followed. “I mean, what is it?”
“Sit down, Athena, and I shall explain. I can bathe your injury first, or would you like to know what attacked you?”
“I want to know what it is,” I said, sitting on the edge of the sofa.
Paymon paced the room, blocking the fire each time he passed it.
“She is an infernal,” he eventually said as he stopped at the side of the fireplace.
The creature was female?
“I should have told you about Bia, but I didn’t expect you to be running into her so quickly.”
“Bia? It has a name? Is she some sort of pet?”
Paymon chuckled, his black mood lifting slightly.
“I suppose you could call her my pet, she has lived all her life with me—the one below and the one above. She is an infernal, the lowest of the lowest creatures from our world. They hate everyone other than their own kind but harbour the most hate for demons.”
“And humans,” I added, glancing at my hand.
“She will be punished for attacking you.” He tapped his fingers on the mantelpiece.
“But you must have known what she’d do if she saw me. If she hates demons even more than humans, then why keep her? Surely she’ll attack you.”
Paymon grinned. “She is compelled not to attack me. She is usually quite docile.”
“Docile, you’re kidding me.”
“No, actually. I’m not.” He stepped away from the fire and rubbed his hands together, smiling. “If she wasn’t compelled, she would be a danger to both of us, not just you. She is a form of vampire, a primitive one, but still, a vampire. She would not have been trying to attack you to kill you, she would have been trying to immobilise you so she could latch onto you to feed.” He paused. “And then she’d kill you. You’re lucky she was under my compelment. She would have been slower than normal because of it. Usually they are very fast.”
Iniquity (The Ascent Book 1) Page 11