The Fallen (Hades Castle Trilogy Book 1)

by C. N. Crawford

  His head snapped away with the blow, then his face shot back toward me, fire burning in his eyes. Fast as lightning, he grabbed both my wrists, then spun me around, pinning my arms down to my waist. Once again, I felt myself pressed against him—iron muscles under an exquisitely soft material.

  He leaned down, his mouth near my ear. “You’re unusually strong.” His deep voice slid through my bones. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

  “What’s interesting about that? What do you want with me?”

  “You will find out soon enough.”

  He dropped his grip on me, and I caught my breath again as he moved away. I turned to see him stalking out the door. Dread raked its claws through my heart.

  7

  Lila

  Twenty minutes later, I stood in a hall with Zahra by my side. Saxophones and trumpets blared through the walls, the sounds of people with the good fortune to enjoy the night.

  We were outside Ernald’s office, waiting to face the real music.

  Zahra sniffled, wiping a tear from her cheek, which made me feel horribly guilty. I’d got her mixed up in this.

  Candlelight danced over the cramped hall, where the red paint had faded and chipped over the years. A faint yellow and black slogan on the wall across from us read Bibliotek is the Bee’s Knees!

  Wasn’t feeling that at all right now, to be honest. What I felt, in addition to the guilt, was more an oppressive sense of dread, and also a few splinters piercing the soles of my bare feet.

  It seemed something unfortunate had happened after Count Saklas’s visit. While I sat in that boudoir, pouring myself another glass of champagne and regretting everything about the evening, the count went to see my boss.

  “It’ll be fine, Zahra,” I said.

  “It most certainly will not be fine,” she hissed. “Ernald summoned me, and asked about my meeting with the count. He wanted to know exactly what happened. And what could I tell him? Because I wasn’t bloody there.”

  “A lie?” I offered.

  She shook her head. “I tried. But Ernald figured it out pretty fast, because apparently the count told him about a fight that I didn’t know about at all. Did you hit him, Lila? Did you hit the bloody count? The ruler of Albia? That is not what I told you to do.”

  I bit my lip. “I panicked. He’s scary.”

  “Do you know how much trouble we could be in?”

  “I’m not worried about trouble with Ernald. I’m worried about the count. He sounded like he was coming back for me for some reason.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It was hard to think clearly. It was like he got into my head. I think he could control my thoughts. He grabbed me around the throat, and I just freaked out. I panicked.”

  She blew out a long breath. “Okay. Fine. Well, hopefully Ernald will be reasonable.”

  “This is fine. I just need to go into permanent hiding, from the count and the gangs. I can live on one of those boats in the canals, take it up north maybe. Get a cat for company.”

  “You’re babbling.”

  The door to Ernald’s office swung open, and I found myself looking not at Ernald, but at the rosy complexion and blond hair of Finn. Besides Zahra, one of my closest friends.

  It wasn’t until his eyes swept up and down my body that I remembered I was still in a sheer lace robe.

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Heya, Finn.”

  You’d think that after all the time we spent in here, he’d be used to the sight of breasts, but his blue eyes were wide as saucers. He pushed the door wider. “Ernald wants to speak to you. Both of you.”

  Unlike everything else in the Bibliotek, there was no faded paint in Ernald’s office. It was all dark wood and stacks of books, with a real electric light that powered a lamp on his paper-strewn desk.

  No office window for Ernald. He was a man who liked to keep his back to the wall at all times. So instead of glass, a panorama had been painted on the wall behind him—a castle on a hill.

  Ernald himself leaned back in his chair, puffing a cigar. He was always dressed to kill, his white button-down shirt crisp and striking against his dark skin. In his three-piece suit, he looked more like a banker than an ordinary denizen of East Dovren.

  Two chairs stood empty before his desk, and Zahra and I each sat in one. The heavy silence in the room was broken only by the sound of the chair creaking as I planted my mostly-bare bum in it.

  Finn stood off to the side, eyes focused determinedly away from my lace camisole. He stared at a blank space on the wall, his jaw working.

  Ernald was doing his thing where he let the silence stretch on forever while everyone pissed themselves, so he completely had the upper hand by the time the actual conversation started. I’d been through this enough times that it no longer unnerved me.

  “Ernald,” I began. “I can explain. The Rough Boys wanted to mutilate me—

  He held up a finger, and I fell silent. He didn’t want me to deprive him of the awkward silence.

  He managed to lean even farther back in his chair, and blew out a ring of smoke. “Count Saklas came to see me. Seems the two of you ladies thought it would be a laugh to switch for the night.”

  “Not a laugh,” I started. “The Rough Boys—“

  “Not interested in excuses,” He said, suddenly leaning forward. “Don’t give a toss what your reasons were. If he’d decided to close us down for the many laws we’ve been breaking, we’d dance our last dance at the deadly nevergreen.”

  A chill rushed over my skin. Just like some cultures had dozens of words for snow, Albians had dozens of terms for hanging. Climbing the tree, ladder to hell, twitching over the abyss, the last dance, and the deadly nevergreen. We were a cheerful sort that way.

  “But he’s not shutting us down,” I pointed out. His phrasing had told me that much.

  Ernald cocked his head. “Look, at the end of the day, it’s my job to make money, isn’t it? And Count Saklas has made me a very good offer. Very good indeed.” He steepled his fingers, the hint of a smile now forming on his lips. “Not just me, Lila. He’s made you a good offer.”

  I stared at him. “Offer for what?”

  “He wants you to be his …” He cleared his throat, then looked down at the paper before him. “His amanuensis.”

  I looked between Finn and Zahra, wondering if anyone was going to fill me in on what the fuck an amanuensis was, but they looked as perplexed as I was.

  “Okay. What’s that?” I asked.

  “Courtesan, I should imagine,” said Ernald. “Not sure why he wanted you, but maybe he likes being punched. Not my place to judge.”

  I stared at him. “Sorry, what?”

  Ernald shrugged. “Some men like a bit of fight. Makes it more exciting.”

  I drummed my fingers on the armrests. “But he didn’t seem interested in me in that way. I mean, he left without anything happening. Also, at the risk of sounding like a downer, he’s somewhat of a murderer. There are bodies hanging outside his palace.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you.” Ernald shrugged. “World is full of bad people.”

  “He’s not people,” I countered. “That feather Zahra uses, you know it’s a real angel feather, right? There’s people out there convincing themselves these things are bird feathers. But we know better.”

  “Course we do,” said Finn.

  “He’s an angel of death,” I said. “I could feel it on him. He glows with a terrible power. He’s got fire in his eyes, and this sort of divine wrath thing. It’s really off.”

  Ernald blew out a smoke ring. “Sure, and I understand your divine wrath concerns. But he has offered us a considerable amount of money. Very considerable indeed.”

  Well, now he had my attention. I needed money. And moreover—maybe this was my chance to find out what happened to Alice. “Us? Both of us?”

  “Twelve thousand crowns to me, and two thousand to you. Per year.”

  Two-thousand crowns nearly solved
my mum’s debt problem. But not entirely.

  Zahra snatched the paper out of Ernald’s hands. “All due respect Ernald, but that’s not what it says. It says twelve thousand crowns to Zahra Dace. That’s me. And two thousand to you. Per year.”

  Ernald grabbed it back, his eyes narrowed in a warning. “Well you won’t be getting any, will you? You’re nothing to do with this, apart from your name being on the contract.”

  “I’m not asking for any money.” Zahra nodded at me. “But that means twelve thousand should go to Lila, who is pretending to be me. If Lila is taking the risk, she should get the money. What have you got to lose, Ernald? You’ll be behind a desk.”

  I stared Ernald down, arms crossed. “I’m not risking my life for the beggar’s portion.”

  Despite my negotiations, I knew I wanted to do it. Even apart from the money, I wanted a chance to see inside the castle. Was Alice still in there? Maybe I could actually see her again.

  And if I was going to do it, I might as well get as much money as I could out of the situation. “If I take this job,” I added, “I will be consorting with an enemy of Albia. If I ever make it out of there alive, I’ll be an outcast. A traitor to the Albian kingdom. I’ll need all the money I can get.”

  “A traitor to your kingdom?” Ernald didn’t like my bargaining. In fact, he looked like he was considering leaping over the table and smashing my head into it. “First of all, there is no Albian kingdom. Not anymore. Can’t have a kingdom without a king, can ya? Second of all, things weren’t exactly better when we had a king. He was a prick. Lastly, six thousand crowns for me, eight for you. My final offer. And if you argue any more, the deal is off. I’ll fire you from my employ completely and leave you to negotiate with the Rough Boys on your own.”

  I sighed, but nodded anyway. It was more than enough to pay off Mum’s debts. Not only that, but I could pay the Holy Sisters to look after my mum and keep her out of trouble.

  I glanced at Finn. Unlike Ernald, I trusted Finn completely. “Finn, what do you think?”

  Finn had his hat in his hands, and he was toying with the brim. “Seems dangerous, boss. And people say he’s planning something. Something that will happen soon. A storm of death or something.”

  “What are you on about?” asked Ernald.

  “Mass killings, I think,” said Finn. “Total domination. Destruction. They’re going to start killing all the Albians in Dovren. Rounding them up. Starting with the children.”

  “And how exactly would you be privy to that sort of information?” asked Ernald.

  Finn shrugged. “There are Albian spies. Watching what he does. You hear things when you keep to the shadows. But like I said, he’s dangerous. We all know that.”

  “Everything is dangerous,” Ernald shot back. “Turning down the man who rules our nation is dangerous. Not having money to pay the Rough Boys is dangerous. There is no decision on the table that is not dangerous, but one of them comes with fourteen thousand crowns, so let’s do that one.”

  The man had a point. “Fair enough. But what do we know about him?” I bit my lip. “If he’s dangerous—can he even be hurt?”

  “They can,” said Finn. “I know a man who saw a dead angel. He swears by it. The angel’s wings were cut off, so it was just the stumps. He was floating in the dark river. White feathers all around him, blood staining the water. I heard they’re immortal, except they have a weakness. Don’t know what it is, though.”

  I frowned. “I didn’t see any wings. He must keep them hidden.”

  “Is it settled then?” asked Ernald.

  “Here are my conditions,” I said.

  Ernald rolled his eyes. “Here we go.”

  I lifted a finger. “One. Two thousand five hundred goes to pay the Rough Boys. Stop them from coming after my mum. Then I want to pay a cloister house to look after her, so she stops racking up debt. Dry her out, make sure she gets off the gin. The rest of the money goes into a safe deposit box for me, with a key only I can access.” I glanced at Finn. “And I need Finn to oversee that.”

  “Lila.” Ernald touched his barrel-chest, sounding hurt. “It’s almost like you don’t trust me.”

  “You’re literally a thief,” I said.

  “Coming from the other thief,” said Ernald.

  “And two, I want a really good dagger,” I added. “Not the old dull one I have now.”

  Ernald scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “You don’t plan on stabbing the good count, do ya? It’s not a good idea.”

  “I just need self-defense in general. That’s it. For all we know, amanuensis means ‘someone I can murder for fun.’”

  “If he planned to murder you, you’d hardly get an annual wage for that,” said Ernald.

  True. The money was interesting, I supposed. Count Saklas didn’t have to pay me. Those who opposed him swung from the gallows. He made the laws.

  “Fine,” said Ernald. “You get a new dagger, and the cloister house, and the lot. Zahra will pick out your courtesan clothes so you’re not in your usual rubbish attire. The money will be in a safe deposit box for you alone, in East Dovren bank. Finn the Trustworthy will deposit it under your real name. You’ll have your receipt and the key in the morning. Then, you leave for the castle. And make sure to look nice. And smile and all that. You’ve got to be lovely. Not being funny or nothing, but you’re not really good at that, typically. Being lovely.”

  My stomach tightened. “Tomorrow morning?”

  Finn caught my gaze. “You’ll be careful, Lila, won’t you? The last time I saw Alice, she was heading into that castle.”

  The last bit of that was unspoken—and she never came out.

  I took a deep breath. “Well, maybe I’ll find her there.”

  8

  Lila

  I sat up, drowning in dread. I hadn’t even fully woken up, and already adrenalin was pumping through my veins. Today, I was about to become an amanuensis to the Angel of Death. Whatever that meant.

  I cast a long look around the little flat I shared with Mum. We lived on one side of a ramshackle room. Drying clothes hung from a line above our bed. The place looked just about like it always did, except today, a maroon velvet suitcase lay in the middle of the floor.

  Mum snored next to me, sleeping off another brutal hangover, her gray hair spread around her head. Red capillaries bloomed on her cheeks—gin blossoms. She wouldn’t wake before noon. Then, she’d try to find another place to get drunk.

  Except she’d find herself bundled up, on the way to a cloister house.

  She wasn’t this bad before Alice disappeared. But that broke her heart.

  When I glanced at the clock on the wall, my heart started to thump. I didn’t have long before Finn was supposed to stop by.

  Rising from the bed, I stretched my arms over my head. Clearly, I couldn’t go into the castle smelling of the slums. I slid a teakettle onto the stovetop.

  While I waited for it to warm, I stared at the room, wondering if it really was the last time I’d see the inside of these shabby walls. Over the years, I’d tried to spruce our place up a bit. I’d once attempted to paint a garden on one of the walls, but painting over exposed brick was hard. It now looked cheerful and deranged at the same time, like a five-year-old had been put in charge of the decor.

  A dingy curtain divided our side of the room from the Wentworth family on the other side. Already, the Wentworth kids were up and screaming.

  There were five Wentworths, permanently sick with fevers, always coughing, hacking, yelling. Every one of them, down to the five-year-old, resented us for living on the side with the window. Well, they could have the bloody window now, because Mum and I would both be out of here.

  When the teakettle started whistling, I poured the hot water into the washbasin, then filled it up the rest of the way with cooler water. I started peeling off my clothes—the gray shirt and pants I’d slept in. Fully naked, I stepped into the basin and started scrubbing myself, so hard I was practically taking the skin o
ff. The soap smelled a bit like olives.

  We didn’t have plumbing inside, just water we got from a well in the back. When we had to use the toilet, it was a shared outhouse that made me gag. Terrible as the angels might be, I would not miss this place.

  As I bathed, I sang a quiet tune about falcons, soaring free over a city.

  The creaking of the curtain rings made my stomach lurch, and I stared at the leering face of Mr. Wentworth. Pervert.

  “Do you mind?” I hugged my knees into my chest.

  He stuck out his tongue and waggled his enormous eyebrows. “Heard the kettle going. Thought you might be giving me a little show. Show us the rest, then.”

  I threw the soap at him, hitting him hard right in the mustache. “Piss off, Martin. If it weren’t for your kids, I’d have killed you in your sleep ages ago.”

  While he slunk away, I rose and dried myself off. Then I opened the suitcase, surveying the new tools of my trade: the ridiculously small knickers, the silky dresses, the rose-scented perfume, the makeup. The fine dagger I would keep sheathed at my thigh at all times.

  I dabbed some perfume on my neck, then picked out some black lacy underwear to put on. There were ribbons and straps that connected to stockings, and the whole enterprise was infinitely more complicated than underwear needed to be. It seemed men liked as many ribbons as possible.

  Once I’d managed to fasten everything, I strapped on the dagger holster. Using the reflection in the steel kettle, I applied my bright red lipstick.

  Then I selected a dress—a black, silky gown with a backline that went down to my arse. It was a wildly impractical cut, but at least it was black, which was my favorite color. And when I slipped into it, the material felt amazing against my skin.

  I stepped into another pair of heels, teetering as I did. I couldn’t stay in these things permanently. No, I’d pack my black leather shoes just in case. They were ragged and threadbare, but at least I could walk in them.