Chapter 1 #2
Justin couldn’t care less about the house.
It had been his home for years, but he didn’t need to own it for it to continue being his home.
He could understand why Yancey was so angry, though.
It wasn’t that Caitlin had left the house to Calyx—although maybe that was a tiny part of it, too.
It was the secrecy. It was Caitlin not telling the rest of them about it.
It was them having to find out when her will was read.
It felt as if she hadn’t trusted them, and Justin didn’t understand why.
He’d never done anything that would cause her to feel that way, had he? What about the others?
He didn’t know, and it didn’t matter anymore.
Caitlin was gone. She’d made her decision when it came to the house and everything else, and they’d all have to deal with it.
Yancey was clearly dealing with it in a more complicated way than the rest of them.
He’d taken it harder, almost as if Caitlin had done all of this to hurt him.
It wasn’t something she would ever do, but Yancey was hurt and grieving, and he wasn’t thinking clearly.
Maybe Justin could reach out to him once he was sure that Yancey had cooled down and try to talk things through.
In the meantime, he would have to find something to do.
He looked around the motel room he’d grabbed for the night. It wasn’t far from the house, but he didn’t feel like going back, not right now. All of them needed to cool down. Besides, Griffith had no doubt stayed with Calyx. Those two were inseparable.
Justin flopped back onto the bed. He had a few weeks before he should go back to the house.
What could he do with this time? He didn’t have friends.
He only had his brothers, and until now, they’d been enough.
They still were. They just needed to get a clear head and give themselves time to grieve Caitlin.
He groaned. This was the worst Christmas ever, wasn’t it? And it had been Caitlin’s favorite holiday, too. She would be appalled to see the way they were behaving, but in part, it was her fault. Justin felt guilty thinking that since she wasn’t there anymore, but it was true.
The sound of a car door slamming shut made him jump.
He sat up and squinted out the window, wondering why he hadn’t closed the curtain.
From where he was, he could see the entire parking lot.
That meant he couldn’t miss the father hauling his daughter high up into his arms, or the man’s wife coming around the car, laughing.
She leaned closer to kiss his cheek, and the daughter giggled and reached for her mother.
Justin’s heart squeezed. Those people were a family. They loved each other.
Justin couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just lost the only people who’d ever been his family.
No. He couldn’t think that way. He couldn’t believe that this was anything other than temporary.
He’d be back in a few weeks, and he’d talk to Calyx, and Calyx and Yancey would make peace.
In the meantime, though, he needed to find something to distract himself, and the family that was now going up the stairs to their room gave him an idea.
He bit his lower lip. He knew his father.
The man had raised him until his death, and Justin missed him dearly, but he couldn’t get him back.
He still had his mother, though, unless something had happened to her.
He’d never reached out, but his father had told him everything he could about her—including that Justin should stay away from her and the area where to find her if he ever wanted to look for her.
Justin thought that maybe he did.
He’d never been to Hell, and it scared him a bit, even though he was half-demon. It didn’t feel like he belonged there, but he didn’t have to belong. It would be just for a few weeks. He’d go to Hell, find his mother, talk to her, and come back.
Of course, that was going to be expensive.
Opening portals to Hell wasn’t cheap, and while Calyx would have done it without asking for payment, Justin couldn’t go to him.
He’d have to find someone else to do the job for him, and he wasn’t looking forward to spending that much money, but now that he’d thought about it, he couldn’t stop.
He was going to Hell, quite literally. He would find his mother, maybe ask her why she’d left him and his father. Once he had his answers, he’d come back, go home, and talk to Calyx.
Yes, that was a good plan. Justin smiled as he flopped back onto the bed. He liked having a plan. He liked knowing that everything would be all right in the end. He just needed to get through the next few weeks.
When Mynor dropped his second knife, he knew he was in trouble.
He still managed to punch the closest guard, sending the demon flying, but someone wrapped an arm around his throat from behind, squeezing hard.
Mynor reached for the arm, scratching it deeply, but even with his claws embedded in the flesh, the guard who’d caught him didn’t let go.
He did scream, though, and Mynor felt a savage satisfaction at the thought that he’d hurt him.
Another guard appeared in front of him and punched him in the stomach. Mynor wheezed and had to let go of the arm around his throat. It tightened even more, causing him to see stars.
This was it, then. He didn’t have any more weapons, and hopefully, Alphan had left with the prisoners. That meant that Mynor was alone.
“Don’t kill him,” someone barked out. “Anya wants to see him.”
Mynor groaned. “Can’t you just kill me instead?”
That earned him another punch in the stomach.
His entire body hurt. He could feel blood trickling from several places on his face, as well as from cuts on his arms and chest, and one on his thigh. Recovery wouldn’t have been fun if he’d been given time to recover, but he was pretty sure he was about to die, so that wouldn’t be a problem.
The guards didn’t listen to his plea. They dragged him down the hallway, and while he tried to keep up, they didn’t slow down.
Eventually, he just gave up and flopped down, allowing them to manhandle him and drag him around.
His arms hurt as they pulled, but what should he care? They wouldn’t hurt for much longer.
He didn’t regret what he’d done today. The only thing he regretted was that they hadn’t managed to reach more prisoners.
He knew Alphan well enough to be sure that his best friend would continue this mission.
That would get him killed, too, eventually.
Mynor wished he could tell him to stop, but knowing Alphan, he’d wanted to avenge Mynor or something stupid like that.
The hallways down which they were walking changed. They weren’t in the dungeons anymore, and the walls and floor went from rough stone to simple smooth stone to ornate and decorated. That was how Mynor knew they were in the palace proper. It was how he knew his end was close.
When they reached what he was sure was the throne room, he sucked in a breath.
He managed to get his feet under him, and he pulled back against the hold the guards had on him.
One of them turned as if to hit him, but Mynor just stood there, glaring at the demon.
The demon seemed to think better of it and grabbed Mynor’s arm, roughly pushing him through the doors.
The guards came with him. When Mynor stopped walking to look around, they pushed him again. He had to walk down a long carpet, and he resisted the urge to spit blood on it. He didn’t want to make his situation worse.
Anya sat on her throne. She was beautiful, but Mynor knew better.
Her heart was black and rotten, even though her face was perfection.
She could try to hide it as hard as she could with her pretty dresses and makeup, but everyone around here knew the truth, even though they were too afraid of her to do anything.
“I heard you caused quite a commotion in my dungeons,” she drawled.
She had one bare leg crossed over the other. Her feet were bare, too, as if she felt completely safe here. She looked relaxed, but Mynor could see the hatred in her gaze. She wanted to kill him.
She was going to.
“What’s the damage?” she asked one of the guards.
“One of the cell rooms is empty. The others are intact. I made sure of it.”
She nodded. “Good. It won’t take as long to find the ones who escaped. Have you already sent guards out?”
“They’re working on it as we speak.”
“It was all for nothing,” Anya said as she turned to Mynor. “How does that make you feel?”
Mynor held his head high. “I did the right thing. I did what others should have done before me. Even if you manage to catch some of these people and lock them up again, I freed them. I stood up to you and your wicked ways. I’m ready to die for that.”
Anya’s smile was evil, and it had nothing to do with the fangs that shone bright against the redness of her lips. “Oh, you’re ready to die?”
Mynor swallowed. He was terrified, and he didn’t want to die, but it would happen anyway. He might as well face it with his head raised high. “I knew the dangers when I decided to do this. I’ll take your punishment.”
Anya looked at the guards. “Take him back and lock him into one of the cells. I’m not quite ready to kill him, and we need to fill them up again.”
If the guards were surprised, they didn’t act like it. They just nodded, grabbed Mynor by the arms again, and started dragging him back. Mynor was surprised, though. He didn’t understand why Anya was doing this. Was it some kind of torture?
Knowing her, it would be. She’d said she wasn’t ready for him to die, but as far as he was concerned, that just meant that she’d prolong his suffering. She’d lock him up for now, but knowing her, she already had plans, and none of them would be good for Mynor.
He was in trouble, wasn’t he?