Chapter 3 #2
I raise my brows suggestively. For all intents and purposes, I let everyone believe I fuck Isadora regularly, for her sake and mine. The biggest surprise to my Court is that I have not taken a mistress as well. Apparently, my father had a harem, but I’ll tackle that beast when I get to it.
Helene exits, and Baal walks to the cherrywood bar across the room, pouring an onyx-hued drink. He holds it out to me, and I shake my head. Shrugging, the Demon knocks it back in one swift gulp then pours another before making his way toward me.
“You said you were going to come to me,” I prompt. “Why would you think I’d be awake after you finished with Helene?”
Baal raises a brow incredulously. “You mean aside from the fact you are sitting here right now, mere hours from sunrise?” He chuckles.
“It is well known, the odd hours you walk these halls, Raph. Servants whisper your name like a ghost haunting these castle walls. You are seen and then not. I do not care where you go, but if you were fucking Isadora like you claim to be, I would think you’d be sleeping better. ”
Fuck. I should have seen that coming. The servants feed the gossip mill the way Death feeds me souls.
“I won’t press you on that,” Baal continues, sitting in another chair across from me, “because I have news.”
I raise a brow in invitation.
“We have an unexpected visitor.”
My still-aching heart races. “Who?”
Baal shrugs. “I am not sure who she is, but she has come from Hades and Persephone’s realm and is under their protection.”
She. Of everything Baal just said—the most alarming of which should be that the God of the Underworld has sent a member of his court to infiltrate mine—the only thing my brain lassos onto is the word she.
A woman.
Baal furrows his dark burrows, undoubtedly because of the expression on my face. My mouth parted and cheeks aflame, I must look ridiculous. I school my features to neutral.
“And how did you come across this information?”
His answer is a sly grin and a lift of his brows.
“You know,” I shift slightly in my seat, “one might think you harbor affection for the goddess.”
It’s Baal’s turn to look like a love sick school boy. His expression now mimics my earlier one, which he quickly washes away with a look of abhorrence.
“Titan, not goddess. And are you crazy? She would sooner cut off my cock rather than suck it.”
“Who said anything about sucking cocks?”
Baal gifts me an aggravated stare. “The point is, Raph, nothing will ever transpire between her and I.”
He’s a lying prick, but I don’t press him. I’m more concerned with his original piece of information. “Any more intel on the trespasser?”
“Technically, she’s not trespassing. And no, she hasn’t woken yet. When she does, you’ll be the first to know.” He smirks. “After me, of course.”
I ignore the subtle taunt as my heart stutters. “What do you mean, ‘woken?’ How did she arrive?”
Baal tilts his head curiously, and it’s then I realize my voice carries an odd sliver of panic. But why?
“Is there something you aren’t telling me?” my friend asks.
I grit my teeth and remain silent.
Baal leans forward, placing his forearms on his knees, and clasps his hands. “If you’re worried about the implications of her being Hades’ spy, I can have her immediately thrown in the dungeons and interrogated until—”
“No,” I unintentionally growl.
The Demon leans back and sinks slowly into his chair, eyeing me like I’m some sort of lunatic. And who could blame him? The mention of this woman elicits all sorts of foreign sensations, has me acting like a complete buffoon, and I can’t even pinpoint why.
“Watch her closely,” I say, calmer than I feel.
“I want to know the moment she wakes and her intentions for coming to Hell. I’m sure whatever excuse she offers will be a blatant lie, but I want to be informed, nonetheless.
So, however you get your information from your lady friend, make sure it’s delivered immediately. ”
Baal simply nods in understanding.
I tilt my head in gratitude and bid Baal goodnight as I rise from my chair and head toward the door. My fingers find the iron ring, and I pull the door open when Baal’s voice freezes me in my tracks.
“To answer your earlier question, she ate the pomegranate.”
My body stiffens, jaw clenching at his statement, and I face him. “The pomegranate?”
Baal again nods.
The pomegranate that sealed Persephone’s fate is legendary, not only in the mortal realm but mine as well.
The mortal legend says one bite of the fruit imprisoned Persephone in the Underworld, condemning her to spend half a year as Hades’ Queen.
My own sources tell me Persephone willingly ate that pomegranate, though, and from what I know of their relationship, she loves the God of the Underworld irrevocably.
She is the only woman who can bring Hades’ to his knees—for more than just carnal pleasure.
My chest tightens unexpectedly, and another unbidden, foreign sensation floods my system. I shrug it off, rolling out my shoulders, aware Baal continues to watch me intently.
“Odd that Hades gave her the pomegranate,” I say.
Another nod. “Indeed.”
Odd, because up until this point, Persephone had been the only woman to have ever eaten the sinister fruit.
“Do you think Hades plans to take her as a wife as well?” As I say it, a scorching flame engulfs my insides: rage. Raw, unfiltered rage.
What. The. Fuck?
“Doubtful.” Baal’s answer douses the flames, though he continues to scrutinize me. I do my best to remain unbothered, even as my insides writhe with anxiety.
I nod and place one foot over the threshold before turning back to the Demon of Debauchery, another question weighing heavily on my tongue.
“What happened to her after she ate the pomegranate?” It’s a fair question.
Baal raises his brows. “Her heart stopped.”
The wooden door hinge splinters beneath my tightened grip. I feel the blood drain from my face, and before Baal throws me one more speculative glance, I duck from the room.
There’s no way. Not a chance in…well…here.
I descend the stairs quickly, winding through sharp turns and long corridors, my mind racing with the implications of what I just heard.
Could it be a coincidence that the night I awake with an ache in my chest is the same night her heart stopped? And if so, what does that mean?
And who is she?
I come upon a large, dark wooden door set back into a smooth slab of stone. The door shouldn't be there, and if anyone else were to come upon this corridor, it wouldn’t exist. It’s for my eyes only. My space. My solitude.
My peace, if I can even call it that.
Closing the door behind me, I head towards the far right, where a plush, dark red couch rests against the wall, smaller chairs of a similar color surrounding a black fur rug with the head of Hell Beast. Twice the size of wolves with eyes like dark rubies, Hell Beasts are feral, ferocious creatures who can be summoned to commit the most heinous acts.
Unsurprisingly, it’s typically mortals who summon them, though the occasional witch has bartered their soul for one of my Beasts to do their bidding.
My body unceremoniously drops onto the couch, and I squeeze my eyes closed.
Although I fight it, my mind drifts to thoughts of my unexpected visitor and the alarming sensations wracking my body.
Unfortunately, there is not much I can do until the wretched wraith stands before me and I can ascertain on my own if she is some sort of sorceress or enchantress.
To have suffered her own form of death to get here speaks volumes, so whatever she is coming for must be extremely important.
Another soul, I’d wager. A lover, most likely.
Again, rage burns bright and deep within my chest, and I do my best to tamp it down.
Whatever her reasons, I have no doubt she will lie, a beautiful, complex lie that would send normal men crumbling to their knees.
But I am no man.
I am the Beast of nightmares. The Bringer of Darkness.
The Devil.
A nefarious smile curls my lips as I close my eyes.
My mind summons the appearance of the mystery woman as I create it from a blank canvas, procuring the human image of Scylla I had originally imagined: dark brown hair threaded with gold, stunning sea green eyes speckled with blue, skin warmed by a Mediterranean sun.
My heart thumps faster, absent of the foreboding ache. No, this time, it beats with anticipation for the hour I finally meet her and bring to light her sinister motives.
My vicious, beautiful liar.