Possessed (Hades Castle Trilogy Book 3)

by C. N. Crawford

  “Tell us what we want to know,” I hissed. “And maybe we’ll let you live.” Behind bars.

  Her only response was a horrified scream, and she started to run for the stairwell, tripping over one of the bodies.

  Samael’s hand shot out, and he grabbed her by the neck, cutting her screams short. Choking her, he lifted her into the air.

  The silence that followed was worse than her screams.

  Lila

  He dropped her again on the floor. Her head smacked against the marble, and she looked dazed.

  “Who is the Baron?” Samael asked, his quiet voice laced with venom.

  She stared up at him, her face contorted with fear. She scrambled to get up again, but half her body was now covered in blood from the floor, and she slipped.

  God save me, this was sad.

  But her wild gaze landed on the gun, lying on the floor. As she reached for it, Samael grabbed her by the throat, lifting her again. He turned her to face him. She pulled at his hands, kicking him in the chest, her eyes crazed, like a spooked horse’s.

  I saw it again, how he looked from her eyes. The living nightmare. For a moment, his dark gaze flicked to me. I read nothing in his expression—no emotion at all, like his soul had retreated into the shadows. Then, his impassive gaze flicked to Alice once more.

  “I don’t think you’re going to tell me what I want to know, are you?” His quiet, dreadful voice slid through my bones.

  I didn’t want to watch this, yet I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I stared as he threw her over the balcony, and the sound of her screams made nausea rise in my gut.

  Sadness pressed on me, but I tried to forget what it had been like to watch Alice die. I knew she was our enemy, but had he really needed to kill her? She could be in custody right now instead. We could be interrogating her.

  Swallowing my anger, I focused on looking for those who were still alive. We scoured the building—every floor and every alcove, searching for Sourial and Oswald.

  On the lowest floor, I saw just how many people Samael had killed. A veritable army of the Free Men lay dead on the floor, throats cut. I tried not to look at Alice—that pale shock of hair among the dead.

  Emotion clogged my throat. “Weren’t you afraid I was going to be the one to spill mortal blood?” I said quietly. It was a sort of joke, but grimness pervaded the atmosphere.

  If the Baron was among them, we had no way of knowing.

  By the door, Samael crouched down, staring at the floor between two bodies. “Lila! I found something.”

  I crossed to him and peered down at a door inset into the marble floor. Faintly, I heard someone screaming beneath it. Bingo.

  Samael pulled on an iron ring, opening the wooden hatch.

  Oswald’s shouts rang from below, and my pulse started to race.

  “Help me! Please!”

  Samael jumped into the hole, and shadows swallowed him. I lowered myself down after him, landing on a hard floor in the dark. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out a cramped dungeon. Two forms lay by one of the walls, looking broken and crooked.

  “Count,” Oswald called out. “Please help me. Thank God you’re here.”

  I gasped. “Oh, God, Oswald. Are you okay?”

  In the shadows, his arms were chained to the wall above his head.

  Next to him, Sourial lay with his head slumped forward. He wasn't moving at all.

  My heart skipped a beat. Was he even alive?

  Samael started ripping the chains off the wall—first Oswald, then Sourial.

  “The keys are on the other side of the room,” rasped Oswald. “Hanging from the wall.”

  I knelt next to Sourial, touching his throat for a pulse. I could feel it dimly under his skin, but he was completely unconscious. I pressed my hand on his chest and felt it rising and falling slowly. But along with that, I felt a large gash, like someone had tried to carve his heart out. I grimaced.

  “Is he alive?” Samael asked in a quiet voice.

  “Yes. I think they actually tried to kill him, but I guess he got lucky and his mortality expired in time.”

  I turned to see Oswald leaning against Samael. “What happened?” I asked. “Did you see what they did to Sourial?”

  He shook his head. “He was like that when they brought me down here. It was part of their threat—give them information, or I’d end up like him,” he blubbered.

  “What did they want to know?” asked Samael.

  “They wanted to know about you, and if you were going to marry Harlow, or the other one. They wanted to know if you could be killed, if I would poison your tea if they returned me. I didn’t tell them anything. Thank God you arrived. They would have killed me if I hadn’t agreed.”

  “We will take you home.” When Samael stepped into the ray of light that came from the opening above us, Oswald let out a shriek. The light beamed over his copper horns.

  “He's fine,” I said quickly. “Just a bit demon-y these days.”

  “I don't understand,” Oswald stammered.

  I waved a hand. “Don't worry about it, Oswald. It’s just an angel thing. We need to get the two of you home. I’ll fly with you.” I handed the book to Samael. “Can you put this in your backpack?”

  “Got it.” Samael shoved the book in his bag, then knelt down and lifted Sourial. He looped the bag over his arm. “Let’s go.”

  Oswald cleared his throat. “Sorry—I’m going to fly carried by a woman?”

  “A demon woman,” I said. “A very strong and powerful demon woman.”

  “I’m grateful for you saving me,” he said, “but this really hurts my self-image.”

  “It will be our little secret, Oswald. No one needs to know.”

  “Before we go out?” asked Oswald. “What’s going on up there? What happened to all the Free Men?”

  “We killed everyone,” I said. “Or more accurately, Samael killed everyone.”

  “You killed people too,” Samael said in a reassuring tone.

  “They’re all dead?” Oswald yelped. “There were so many of them.”

  “And we got the book,” I added. “Now Oswald, get into my arms. On the way back, I want you to tell me everything you witnessed here.”

  We flew through the dark night skies, the wintry winds streaming over us. Only when we crossed over the Weald did the warm, humid air temporarily hit us.

  Unfortunately, Oswald wasn’t able to tell us a single thing as we flew, because he immediately passed out. Sourial hung limp in Samael’s arms. Samael flew close to me, and I could feel his wings beating the air. When he turned to look at me, his eyes had returned to their usual gray. The bronze horns were gone. Was that how it would be for him as a demon? Flickering in and out of his different forms?

  “Lila?” His quiet voice carried on the wind. “When we were in the library, you looked a bit terrified when I caught your eye.”

  I already knew what he meant. Around Alice, I’d fallen back into my old habit. When I was with her, I saw the world the way she did. I’d seen him from her eyes. “It was a disturbing situation,” I said. “And you didn’t need to kill her. She could have been a captive.”

  “Just because she was your sister she should be treated differently?”

  I shook my head, flustered. I was trying not to cry. “Because she could have been a source of information. And a prisoner. The good guys take prisoners. They don’t kill their captives.”

  “I told you. I’m not a good guy.”

  I snorted. “Bollocks.”

  “She wasn’t going to give us any real information.” His voice was a sharp blade. “I could read her as easily as a map. She was a liability if we left her alive. She’d already escaped once, hadn’t she? Why would I make the same mistake twice?”

  Silence fell between us. I was too tired to continue the conversation, and I just wanted the night to be over.

  Then, more softly, he added, “Or maybe that kill was the uncontrolled rage of my demon side. I think when I saw wh
at they were doing to you up there, what they intended and how they were hurting you, I snapped completely. I think I lost it.”

  My throat tightened, and I felt the tears stinging my eyes. “It’s just that I knew her when she was little. She patched up my skinned knees. She knew all of my nightmares, my hopes and dreams, and I thought I knew hers. I just didn’t realize she really believed that she was on a mission to restore Albia to greatness. She always said she wanted to be a queen, but I thought it was just a fantasy. Just pretend. She actually tried to make it happen. And whoever promised that it could happen was a liar, because they left her to die.”

  My heart squeezed. She was a monster. But the problem was, I remembered what she was like before she was a monster.

  “Lila?” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

  Lila

  Just as before, the first thing we saw when we entered the castle was Harlow standing at the top of the stairs. She wore a gleaming white gossamer gown that hugged her figure, and left her shoulders bare. A crown of flowers rested on her blonde curls.

  She stared at me carrying Oswald’s sleeping body, and her hand flew to her chest. “I was so worried about you my beloved, that I could not sleep a wink! Where have you been? Was it the Devilcross Highwayman?”

  “Yes,” I said, before I had a chance to think about it. Who cared what she thought?

  Her cheeks paled. “Where have you been all night, count? I was looking all over for you, my betrothed.”

  Awkward.

  Samael simply fell silent, which seemed to be his way of handling awkward situations. I wished he’d just tell her to leave. When was he going to tell her the wedding was off?

  But he wasn’t looking at her at all. Instead, he caught my eye and said, “Let’s get these two to beds where they can rest. You can take Oswald to his room, and I’ll call for a healer.”

  I sat on the edge of Samael’s bed, wishing I could shake off the grimness of the evening. I wanted to be back in that gleaming, golden pool, listening to the birdsong and watching the butterflies flit around me.

  It had been paradise. And everything that came after? That felt a bit more like hell.

  As I watched Samael pull off his bloodied cloak, I reminded myself that we were victorious. We had the book now. We could sever its ties to me for good. Samael had thought the Free Men might have copies of the book—this would ensure that none of the copies could be used to control me. And without the ties to Lilith, the Free Men would just be ordinary mortals. Easy to kill.

  Samael sat down next to me on the bed, and pulled the book from the bag.

  “Why doesn’t this feel like a victory?” I asked.

  He flashed me a smile, innocence shining in his eyes again. Vulnerability. “It is, Lila. It’s just not the end. We don’t know who the Baron is, or if he’s dead. We have to catch every last one of the Free Men.”

  “Yeah.” I tried not to think about how he’d looked when he threw my sister off the balcony. I loved him no matter what, but that was a memory I wished I could destroy.

  “I’m ready,” I said. “Let’s get this done with, once and for all.”

  He flipped the book open, scanning the pages until he paused at one. Brutal-looking swirls decorated the borders of the page. On the top, someone had drawn a picture of chain links, breaking apart. The strange letters glowed with divine light.

  Sitting close to me, Samael started to read in Angelic. His native language sounded beautiful on his tongue, and his ancient power thrummed over my body.

  Warmth spilled across my skin. It felt as if pure, warm light were washing through me, freeing me. Before, I’d felt empty. Now, I felt as if Samael’s words were filling me.

  I saw the hill again—the hill from long ago, where the sycamore once grew. Then, I watched the castle rise from the soil, shining in the sun. But this time, it wasn’t the Raven King with me. It was Samael—beautiful, demonic Samael, looking perfect with his horns, his dark eyes. The image faded, and I knew I was free.

  Already, I felt my connection to my army of beasts strengthening. I felt their eyes snap open, their heads turn.

  They were mine again. And they were coming for me.

  I opened my eyes, smiling at Samael. “It’s done. And I’m getting my army back.”

  He brushed my hair off my face. “You should get some rest, Lila. I’m going to check on Sourial.”

  As he left, I looked down at myself. Blood covered my leather trousers. After the darkness of tonight, I’d never before felt so desperate to clean myself.

  My legs were stiff as I crossed to the bathroom. I turned on the tap, filling the tub with steaming hot water. While the bath filled, I peeled off my clothes. Running water was an amazing invention, and I hoped that someday, everyone in Dovren could get it.

  Naked, I dipped my fingers into the hot water. Even though I was free from the book, my heart was still racing too fast. Worries snagged at the back of my mind. Puzzle pieces that couldn’t quite fit together.

  Maybe it was because I could still hear Alice’s screams in the recesses of my thoughts.

  Or maybe it was the sense that this wasn’t really over.

  When the bath was mostly full, I stepped into the steaming water, instantly feeling my tense muscles relax. I slid down deeper, and grabbed the bar of soap. I started to scrub myself, clearing off all the dried blood.

  Was some of it Oswald’s blood? I bit my lip, trying to remember his injuries. It had been dark when I carried him through the skies. There was so much going on, but I didn’t remember seeing much blood on him.

  But something else was rattling at the back of my skull.

  We still didn’t know who’d written that note to the Free Men when we flew into Devil’s Acre. Someone who heard our exact conversation about the Hunted Friar’s Passage.

  We’d thought it was Sourial, of course. But if it wasn’t his handwriting, then who overheard us?

  Samael had said that the room was soundproof, and that was why he used it for meetings.

  But someone else knew this castle inside and out, better than he did. Someone else knew the places where Samael would forget to look.

  My heart thumped faster. Was it possible …?

  I jumped out of the bath, drained it, and toweled off fast. Frantically, I stepped into my leather trousers, wiped the blood off as best I could, then ran into Samael’s room.

  I flung open the wardrobe doors. I didn’t want to put on my bloodstained shirt, so I pulled on one of his dark sweaters, which draped down to my thighs. Finally, I slipped into my shoes.

  I yanked the door open, then rushed for the stairwell and bounded up the stairs until at last, I got to the meeting room. A fire burned in the hearth, filling the room with the scent of smoky cedar. Catching my breath, I turned in a circle.

  And there it was—the dumbwaiter. I’d had one in my room as well.

  I hurried over to it and pulled up the wooden hatch. It was a bit larger inside than the one in my room.

  But Oswald was tall, wasn't he? I wasn’t sure he could fit in it. In fact, I wasn’t even sure I could.

  Only one way to find out.

  I hoisted myself up and climbed in, then folded my body so I fit. I just barely squished myself into the space, pulling my legs tight against me.

  Okay. So I could fit. But Oswald? No way.

  I slid out one leg at a time. I had to find Samael and tell him there was a way to overhear the conversation. Someone from this castle had forged that note. Someone about my size.

  That little twat …

  Of course.

  Footsteps sounded behind me, making my muscles tense. I whirled to see Harlow standing before me.

  Before I could open my mouth, she rammed a dagger into my heart.

  Samael

  When I finally returned to my room, just before daybreak, I found that Lila was gone. Her bloodstained shirt lay on my bathroom floor, but that was it. The wet sheen of the tub looked as if she’d bathed recently. Had she
just rushed out of here? Naked?

  I crossed back into my bedroom, where I found the wardrobe open. I supposed she could have dressed in my clothes, since hers were dirty, but … why the rush? I could have ordered new clothes.

  A sense of foreboding clenched my chest, and I looked down at my own clothes—soaked with blood and gore.

  Was it any wonder she ran out of here? I was a nightmare. I always had been. It was just that I’d never cared before what people thought of me.

  I stepped into the bathroom and peeled off the blood-soaked clothes. I filled the tub with hot water, then stepped into it, steam wrapping around me. Already, my body was healing from the battle wounds.

  My chest ached. As soon as I cleaned myself off, I was going to find Lila. I wanted her close by me right now.

  Of course she’d fled. She’d seen me slaughter her own sister without mercy. Even if I thought Alice had to die, Lila should not have seen it.

  A normal person would have asked Lila to leave, ended it discreetly. A merciful person would not have picked up his bride’s sister and thrown her over the balcony in front of that bride’s eyes. And then when we’d walked around, searching for Oswald, Lila must have seen her lying there among the bodies …

  I was a creature dredged from nightmares.

  I needed to civilize myself. Then, I’d get her back.

  When I’d finished cleaning myself, I rose from the bath. As I toweled off, I couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d seen me.

  In that moment when I killed Alice, I’d been death, my emotions as distant as a twinkling star. Death did not stop to wonder how people felt. Death was an inexorable force of destruction, a tidal wave of darkness that descended and crushed all in its path.

  That was what Lila had seen.

  Not just Lila. Lilith, too. Corrosive guilt spilled through me when I glanced at my window. Lilith would remember death well. Midnight-eyed death had carved out her heart, had thrown her into the moat.