Chapter 6 #2
I push aside my jealousy and take her in.
I’ve grown so accustomed to my green eye that I’ve learned to blend its view with my own, but it seems I sometimes miss things because of it.
With a little focus, I see the receptionist for who she truly is.
Skin like parchment, a mouth filled with multiple rows of razor-sharp teeth, eyes as dark as night, and long fingers with claws to match her teeth in deadliness.
“Creiddyla is a flesh-eater,” Malakai whispers. “A half-breed, driven by loyalty. She sees and hears everything that happens here. Over the years, she has managed to keep out her fair share of unwanted guests.”
“You mean to say you not only provide them with housing but also with jobs?”
He gives me a short nod and a squeeze as I start to deflate. “Most of those working here also live in our homes. At an employee discount, but part of their wage still comes back to us.”
Now I can’t take my eyes off her. She shifts uncomfortably in her chair, clearly aware of my stare.
“Elly,” Malakai says, his voice filled with an emotion I can’t quite place.
I don’t look at him, despite wanting to find out what exactly this emotion is. Instead, I drag my gaze to the floor, feeling slightly embarrassed about my outburst.
“I’m serious. If there’s one thing you should know about purebloods, it’s that we’re too stuck up to do anything but play with a half-breed or a human.”
I know he means himself as well, and I also know he’s definitely too stuck up for it.
“I was human”—I finally look at him—“once.”
“And now you’re better than anything else walking this earth. You’re perfect.”
I open my mouth for a retort, but I’m cut off before I can.
“Lord Deimos.” Thomas enters the lobby, his voice cutting through the moment, clearly oblivious. “It’s good to see you here. Allow me to show you to your office.”
Stepping back from me, a secretive smile on his lips, Malakai turns on his heels and follows him, gesturing for me to do the same.
Despite his words, I can’t help but stop at the receptionist desk as we walk past. I let some of my magic run free, just enough for her to feel it. Creiddyla goes white as a sheet when she senses it coiling around her.
“Look at him like that again and I’ll have you eat your own eyes,” I spit, jealousy flaring up briefly.
She nods, shaking and avoiding my gaze like her life depends on it. Because it does. “Y-yes, Lady Deimos. My sincerest apologies for my behavior.”
I give her a final look, retract my magic, and follow Malakai and Thomas.
They’re standing around the corner, holding the elevator door open as they wait for me.
Thomas frowns at me, but Malakai has a grin on his face that tells me he knows exactly why I made them wait.
He looks almost proud of me for threatening one of his employees.
“This is your private elevator,” Thomas starts.
“It only stops on the basement levels, the ground floor, and your office with these keys.” He pulls out a keyring holding two identical keys and places one in the keyhole next to the touchpad.
He presses a button, and the door closes.
As we ascend, he hands Malakai the keys.
“These are the only copies, of course. They also open the office doors,” he adds.
Malakai wordlessly accepts the keys, takes one from the ring, and hands it to me.
There’s a ding, and the doors open to a spacious office.
“Everything has been arranged according to your specifications. The files you brought in have all been discreetly sorted in the cabinets.”
As Thomas speaks, I walk to the windows.
Just like everywhere else, they go from floor to ceiling, providing an amazing view.
It shows the whole city beneath, and I’m certain it must look even better at night.
Looking down at it all, I wonder what it must be like to have wings, to be able to fly—up so high in the sky the world below looks like a collection of miniatures, the wind in my hair…
“Thank you. This will be all for now.”
“Yes, Lord Deimos.” I hear him turn and start to walk away until Malakai’s voice stops him in his tracks.
“Is our guest ready to see us?”
Thomas gulps, clearly uncomfortable. “Yes, Lord Deimos. He’s awaiting you.” The shake in his voice makes me look up.
“Thank you. You can go now.”
Thomas curtsies to Malakai, then to me, and leaves through a door in a frosted glass wall on the left of the office.
“A guest?”
“You’ll see,” Malakai says, a glint in his eyes speaking of trouble. “But first…” His voice trails off as he opens one of the two doors next to the elevator.
Curious, I follow him into a dark room, dimly lit by candles burning with a fire similar to our fireplace—magical and eternal.
Malakai pulls out his dagger and cuts his hand, and I instantly know why. I take the dagger from him, cut myself, and join him in drawing the transportation circle. A permanent one will certainly prove to be a convenience. We’ll need one at the house.
“Already taken care of, love,” Malakai says while he heals the cut on his hand. “In the library, when you left earlier,” he answers my unspoken question while healing my cut in turn. “These are not only for convenience but for protection as well.”
I frown at him, and he elaborates. “This whole building is warded to prevent someone from transporting inside, just like the house. The only way to do so is directly to a permanent circle, which only allows our blood to enter.”
“Does this also apply to transporting out or within the space?”
“No, but using the circle saves energy and blood, so I recommend using it, especially for longer distances.”
We leave the room, and Malakai puts a spell on the door, allowing only us access.
“Does this mean,” I start to say, approaching the windows once more, “you’re going to spend all your time here, working?”
“Some of it, yes,” he answers as he stands next to me, both of us looking out over the city. “But most of it can technically continue without me. Which means I’ll focus mainly on the parts too delicate or important for someone else to handle.”
“Like?” I ask, slightly tilting my head.
“I’ll show you.” Malakai takes my hand once more and guides me back to the elevator. Inside, he presses a button to bring us to the lowest basement level.
We enter a dimly lit underground complex with an interior reminiscent of our prison. It’s all burnt umber stone walls, dark brown wooden doors, and high arched ceilings. Knowing him, it was definitely designed this way on purpose.
“Real estate, huh? I was unaware you needed a dungeon for that,” I remark, unable to keep a smile from my voice.
Malakai laughs while he leads me through a maze of hallways.
Screams reach us from up ahead, and when we come to a stop, it’s clearly coming from the other side of the door. “Torture room?” I ask him.
He opens the door in reply, revealing what is indeed a torture room.
We step inside, and my gaze falls on the man strapped to a tilted table. Judging by the multiple open wounds and burns on his body, his torturer has been busy.
The air is thick with the smell of blood and burned flesh, making my skin tingle in an unfamiliar way.
My magic seeps out of me and absorbs it all.
The way it reacts to the gore feels almost alive with energy, sizzling and cracking, twitching against my flesh.
And then I remember how my magic is his magic—blood magic.
Just like that, Malakai’s magic touches mine, intertwining as if trying to become one. The sensation is unlike anything I’ve felt before—soft and loving yet hard and vicious at the same time. It reminds me of us, and it feels so right. More than I could ever have imagined.
“My lord. My lady.”
The voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I turn around.
A woman in black leather steps out of the corner the man had been looking at.
She comes to a stop in front of us and curtsies.
She has dark beige skin, hazelnut-colored eyes, and dark brown hair hanging loosely over her shoulder.
The bloody pliers in her hand reveal she’s clearly the one doing the torturing—without getting a single drop of red on herself, which is something I never imagined I would find impressive. Maybe she can teach me a thing or two.
“Anything?” Malakai inquires.
Her eyes fall on me, looking me over in a way that reminds me an awful lot of Isra, before she shakes her head. “He’s a stubborn one.”
Malakai looks the man up and down. “Give us the room.”
“Of course, my lord.” She curtsies again and leaves us.
Malakai turns to the man while taking off his jacket and handing it to me.
Over his waistcoat, he wears a leather shoulder holster with his dagger strapped to his side.
He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and then takes his dagger in hand.
Suspecting where this is going, I carefully take a few steps back, clutching his jacket in my arms. My magic feels giddy with excitement at the promise of torture, the promise of blood thick in the air.
The way it rolls over my skin tells me he feels the same.
“Too many things have gone wrong lately, which hasn’t happened for centuries.
It tells me, Andrei”—Malakai turns and directly addresses the man—“someone is being disloyal. You and your brother have been receiving messages from someone, doing their bidding. You’re going to give me a name.
Unless, of course, you prefer to end up like Nikolay. ”
Andrei shakes his head, whimpering. Tears well in his eyes as he speaks in a language I don’t understand.
“Manners, Andrei,” Malakai snaps. “The lady would like to be a part of the conversation.”
Andrei looks at me, hope blooming in his eyes. Malakai slashes him across the arm, and blood immediately gushes from the wound. Andrei whimpers, his gaze dropping.
“She’s not here to help you,” he hisses. “You can only help yourself.”