Lucy
Interitus.
Fuck.
I blink up at her. Everything I knew of Thalia melting away. Every bottle of wine we shared, every coffee and shoulder to cry on. All of it was a lie.
She’s an angel.
No. She’s a fallen angel.
When she threw me into the underworld, I didn’t want to believe it. But as I stare up at her, those enormous wings tipped in jet black quivering behind her, everything I knew and loved about Thalia died, and in its place stands a venomous fallen angel: Interitus.
If I’m here, the Veil fell and Architecti was released. Interitus got what she wanted. So why is she here? Why has she come for me?
The runes on my arms and legs hum in response to seeing her, as if they already know why she’s here. As if by standing in Interitus’s presence, there’s some unspoken covenant forming between us.
Well, not this time. Not over my dead bo— I halt mid-thought, because I’m not dead.
Mortem sinks his teeth into my shin. He’s right, we need to get the fuck out of here.
Interitus hasn’t moved. Her eyes have darkened and are so focused on me there’s no doubt that I am her target.
Her prey.
I’ve had to deal with predators my whole life. I just got rid of Ignatius, I have no plans to allow another one in.
I round on her. “What do you want? You already got what you came for, the Veil was torn open, Architecti is free. Leave me alone.”
“Got what I want? You have no idea what I want…” Her eyes trail over my skin, skittering and widening as she focuses on the runes.
It’s like she’s peeling away layers of me to examine what’s underneath.
I stand there, awkward, exposed as she rifles with metaphorical pliers and tongs and cold metal forceps.
I shiver, pull the curtain tighter and edge away from the balcony railing.
She moves.
One step closer.
Mortem hisses, a plea to leave.
But I’m fixated on Interitus. Pierced by her gaze.
“Then tell me…” I demand a little too forcefully and way more confidently than I’m actually feeling.
“Oh, Lucy, I’d think it was obvious… I want… you…”
Her words aren’t sexy or kinky. They’re not smooth or silken. Nor are they mellowed with lust and honey.
Her words are cold, calculated and filled with a menacing hunger that turns my stomach and makes my teeth chatter.
“Lucy,” Mortem whines. His claws join his teeth, sinking into the fleshy pulp of my shin, snapping me out of the reverie.
“You can’t have me,” I bark and then I run.
Mortem and I race down the stairs together. Feet pounding as hard and fast as we can.
My thighs burn and sweat trickles down my neck as my arms pump left and right and left again.
I give everything, moving like electricity through the hallways and down the stairs.
“She’s behind us,” Mortem says. “Faster, Lucy. There’s a door on the left, it has a mind of its own but use it.”
The last couple of steps are uneven and my feet stumble, but I fling myself at the door. Interitus spreads her wings wide, dimming what light remains as she lands on the ground floor.
“GO,” Mortem hisses.
I rip the door open. The roar of my breath thunders in my ears, a cacophony playing alongside the rapid beat of my heart.
We stumble inside as Interitus’s fingers grab for the handle, and I slam the door shut.
I stare at the door, panting, waiting for her to rip it open. It stays shut.
We made it, we’re sealed inside.
“How? Wasn’t she opening the door as I yanked it closed?”
“I told you, it has a mind of its own,” Mortem says. “Never opens to the same location twice in a row.”
“Wait… twice in a—so it could open here again?” I ask, a frisson of panic fluttering in my gut.
He meows in confirmation.
“Let’s keep going then…” I say.
He trots off into what appears to be a ballroom. And it’s filled with shades.
Soft melodic music drifts around us. Shade couples dance to music made from old memories and warm hugs.
It’s a lilting, hypnotic sound. I wonder how long they’ve been trapped here.
Hundreds of body-shapes paired together, arms around necks, their translucent feet hovering above the ground, drifting listlessly to the tune.
It’s beautiful and haunting and makes my chest ache. As we make our way through the ballroom, one by one the shades stop dancing to stare at us.
It makes my skin crawl in the same way Interitus did.
“Why are they staring?” I whisper.
“Because you’re glowing. Shades don’t glow.”
“I’m not a shade…” I say, not quite a question but not quite a statement either.
“Whatever you are, you’re not meant to be here. Look at how different you are to them.”
I glance down at my body again and then back to them. He’s right. They are translucent where I am opaque.
Solid.
I don’t look much different than when I was living, truth be told, save for the fact my skin is now home to hundreds of runes.
I study the ones nearest my hands. From one angle, they almost look like the contract runes Midnight drew for me, but they shift and warp too quickly for me to get a proper handle on them.
“I need to find out what is happening to me, and there’s only two people that will know.”
“Ignatius and Architecti?”
“And they’re both in Ora City, so I guess we have to try…”
Mortem’s butt wiggles like he’s going to pounce, but he jumps in excitement and it makes me smile. A spark of hope balloons in my belly.
I don’t have a soul but maybe Ora will let me in anyway. If I can find a Veil tear, then maybe I can find my way back to Midnight and explain.
And this time, I’d be going home with a broken contract. Ignatius wouldn’t have any control over me; I’d be home and free. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
“I need food. And maybe a nice female pussy…”
I raise an eyebrow at him, my nose wrinkling.
“…cat. Pussy cat.”
“You’re vile.”
He licks his side, sticking a leg right up in the air in a contorted pose that makes my hips squirm.
“Get me to Ora and I’ll supply you with a lifetime of tuna.”
He doesn’t need telling twice. He hops up and strides out of the ballroom.
The tower must distort spatial reality, because after the ballroom we walk for at least two hours.
Through rooms and halls and foyers and more rooms. It’s a maze that twists and turns and never seems to have an end.
I’m reaching the end of my patience. The runes tingle, I’m thirsty and the backs of my knees want to conk out.
“I thought you knew where you were going,” I whine.
Mortem glares at me. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot you’d been here before. Would you prefer to navigate?”
“I see the grumpy arsehole is back.”
“I told you, hungry.”
I sigh and close my mouth. He leads me back out into a separate foyer that has another staircase.
“We’re going in circles,” I mumble.
His gaze sharpens to a level of potent vehemence that only a feline is capable of. Gods, he’s so temperamental.
“Fine,” I say and raise my hands. “Staying quiet.”
He pads across the foyer and up a very long set of spiralling stairs. When we reach the top, it opens out into a library.
“Oh,” I breathe.
He tilts his head at me in a deeply regal feline way. It’s so smug I want to put a boot up his arse.
I shake my head and enter the underworld’s demonic library. It makes the Finis version look like a toddler’s bookshelf.
“I thought we were looking for an exit, not a library?” I whisper.
“There’s a door to Ora’s demonic library up there.” He flicks his eyes to the ceiling. “You should go,” he says, nibbling at his paw beans.
“I should…”
“But?”
My whole body sags.
But… Midnight. What I did to her was beyond hurtful. What if she doesn’t hear me out?
He purrs, an understanding sort of sound. But it doesn’t make the ache in my chest any better.
“You think she won’t forgive you?” He puts his paw down and shakes his body far too much like a dog than a cat has a right to.
I nod. “I wouldn’t forgive me.”
“Better to try and fail than never try at all.” He doesn’t wait for an answer and trots off towards the heart of the library.
I follow reluctantly. The demonic library is grand in a dark and sinuous way. The walls are made of obscure statues, arches made of arms endlessly reaching for something out of their grasp. Carved in stone, perpetually destined to fail to reach their destiny.
It’s creepy.
The windows are darkened by the ample black clouds hovering low in the sky outside.
The walls are lined with bookshelves made of a wood so ancient it’s aged into a dusty-brown mud colour.
Every book is bound in blood red leather.
Some small, slotted in neat rows. Other books are half my height, rising up to my hip.
And others still are treacherously balanced on their shelf, liable to collapse with the lightest touch.
My hands itch to pull them out and feel their glorious covers. The embossing and that aged-paper scent that smells like childhood and knowledge.
I find a couple on demonic language and contracts, pick them up and slide them into my pockets as they’re small enough to fit. Lex would appreciate them.
The light in here is the reddish glow of a burning volcano on the horizon. Just enough to see, not enough to feel safe. There is an ever-present knot in my gut, knowing that Thalia—Interitus—is chasing me.
A second knot for the fact I don’t know what she wants from me, only that it doesn’t feel good.
Mortem tilts his head in the direction of an arch. It’s empty save for a faint cloud of mist hovering between the stone arch in the darkness.
“That’s the portal?” I ask.
“Yes, thank god, my fur is about to fall out I’m so starved.”
“Has anyone ever told you how dramatic you are.”
He hisses at me. I huff out a laugh.
There’s a crashing in the distance like someone threw open a door and flung aside a trolley of books.
Mortem’s eyes widen and he evaporates, reappearing a moment later on the other side of a plinth.
“Interitus?”
“Meow,” he nods and starts pacing.
“How do I make it work?”
He tilts his head at me. “What do you mean? It is working…”
I glance from Mortem to the stone archway and back again. “Now isn’t the time for joking.”
“It’s literally working,” he says, his tone shorter and sharper than before.