Chapter 29
RHI
Isadora blinks and lowers the blade.
“Scylla…the monster?”
I nod.
“The tattoo on Nick’s chest…” she murmurs to herself, flicking her gaze downward before again meeting my eyes. “You are Scylla?”
“Well, no,” I amend. “Not really. Scylla was my mother, but the monster lives beneath my skin. I can shift if I need to…” I trail off, remembering my suppressed powers. “Though not here, in this labyrinth.”
Isadora nods. “Well, that’s a relief.”
I smirk. “What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll eat you?”
“Honestly…” Her eyes take in the curved claws at my fingertips, traveling upward and stopping briefly on the fangs visible beneath my lips before they rest on my eyes, which I know are a poison green and slitted like a serpent’s. “...Yes.”
A chuckle crawls up my throat. “You have nothing to worry about. My preference is men.”
“Well, that’s obvious.” She snorts, clearly missing my implication.
“You misunderstand, Isadora, so let me clarify.” I take a step towards her, noting how her body stiffens. She’s fighting not to step back, to hold her ground. I admire that. “I prefer to eat men. Am I clear?”
Her eyebrows shoot to her forehead. “Oh. Oh.” Isadora licks her lips, eyes alight with understanding. “Crystal.”
“Great,” I say with sarcastic enthusiasm. “Can we move along then? I can’t wait to see what else these halls of horror have to offer.”
Isadora chuckles at that, sheathing her blades, one on either hip. She settles next to me, and we continue walking, my gaze fixed downward.
“Left or right?” she asks.
I whip my eyes forward, surprise taking root as the once-clear path has forked once again. I groan. “What are your spidey senses telling you?”
“My what?”
Sighing, I mutter, “Never mind.” While Isadora isn’t exactly terrible company, being around someone who is not used to my sense of humor, never mind that she doesn’t understand any of my references, makes me really miss my girls.
On a whim, I gesture to the left, my heart hollow as I recall the last encounter with the girls.
I’ve been in Hell nearly two weeks, and I suppose I should be grateful they haven’t made it here.
That means they are safe, probably at Alystair, attending classes and causing havoc, especially in Cicero’s class.
A smile tugs at my lips thinking about Astrid blatantly ignoring his lesson while reading a book, or Zo shooting B evil glares, even though she stares at her like the girl hung the moon when B isn’t looking.
Even though I’m glad they aren’t here, a selfish part of me wishes they were.
“Rhi.” Isadora’s startled gasp pulls me from my wallowing.
A man stands before us with long, onyx hair and a bare, pale torso. His defined abdomen doesn’t distract from the color of his eyes, which are entirely crimson, no hint of a pupil.
If my Scylla wasn’t suppressed, it would certainly hiss.
“Hello,” he says, his voice both haunting and soothing. The stranger stands between another split in the Labyrinth.
I turn my head to glance behind me, something insidious worming within my bones at this man’s presence.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warns.
“Who are you?” Isadora asks as I face forward.
“Which one of you will survive, I wonder?”
“Both of us,” I answer, glaring at the stranger.
He smiles, a razor sharp grin despite a mouthful of straight teeth. “You may indeed survive this maze, but will you survive each other?”
I narrow my eyes, understanding blooming. “If you are trying to pit us against each other, it won’t work.”
Even as the words leave my mouth with conviction, my heart wavers. I still don’t know Isadora that well, and while I’m not sure I could leave her here to die as Nick demanded, if it came between her and me, can I say the same about her?
“What do we need to do to pass?” Isadora asks.
His sharp smile widens. “Answer truthfully.”
“That’s it?” My voice is heavy with incredulity. “What if we just kill you instead?”
His crimson eyes dance in response. “You are welcome to try.”
Without warning, blinding pain shoots through my entire body, akin to the electrical shocks I suffered from Jesse. Only this time, it truly feels as though liquid fire moves through my veins as I burn from the inside out.
Cementing my eyes shut, I release a bloodcurdling scream, something warm and thick running from my nostrils and ears.
When I open them, Isadora stares at me in wide-eyed horror. The stranger, however, has a look of utter boredom.
“Shall we begin?”
Wiping the blood from my nose with the back of my hand, I nod.
“Did you urge the King to forget?”
I don’t understand the question, but I realize it isn’t meant for me. Isadora blanches then shakes her head. Immediately, she lets out an agonizing scream, blood now pouring from her nostrils and ears.
“When you lie, you will feel pain,” he explains. “Each lie will spill blood. Spill enough, and you will die. Slowly.” His eerie gaze settles on me. “Will you return to him no matter the cost?”
“Yes,” I answer immediately. White hot pain shoots like lightning through my bloodstream. Copper-scented blood coats my top lip, and I shakily wipe it away with the black of my hand.
“Do you think about bedding the Prince?” His question is again directed at Isadora, and I hold my breath awaiting her answer.
She swallows. “No.”
She screams, and blood pours from her eyes.
I attempt to swallow the rage swirling in my chest and climbing my throat. Had she not just told me she didn’t love Nick, and that she understood why I was here and who I am to him? Who Nick and I are to each other?
He tsks. “It seems your hearts and brains are at odds with what is perceived as the truth. Your minds are fixated on a version of truth while your heart harbors something different. Something true.”
Glaring at Isadora before I address him, I say, “Get on with it.”
The man wastes no time. “Will you kill anyone to return to him?”
The answer on the tip of my tongue is no, but I think about my heart thudding frantically in my chest, harboring a newborn hatred now that Isadora admitted to still wanting Nick.
“Yes,” I answer through gritted teeth. Squeezing my eyes shut, I await the pain. The blood. But nothing comes.
Blood blooms high on Isadora’s cheeks. She understands what that means.
“And you.” That scarlet stare swivels towards Isadora. “Will you do whatever it takes to become Queen?”
“Yes,” she says without hesitation, and nothing follows.
I face Isadora the same time she turns to me.
“And there you have it,” he says with morbid glee.
Isadora’s fingers twitch, inching towards her blades. My own fingers dance toward the hilt of the sword on my hip.
“The truth is painful. Bloody,” he taunts. “Its revelations are almost always catastrophic.”
Not always, I think. Again, my thoughts stray to my girls, to the time I revealed Nick’s prophecy to each of them, that I was the one to kill him.
Zo had embraced me, had sworn to find a way to keep us both safe.
Astrid had confided her own suffering before embracing me as well, and Scarlett had merely shrugged and said, “you love him,” believing that alone would suffice.
L'amor che move 'l sole e l'altre stelle.
No, I will not kill Isadora today.
“Tell me something,” I say, my focus trained on Isadora, but then I turn my head toward the crimson-eyed stranger. “Your questions were decidedly vague. Why would you leave out specifics?”
A dark brow lifts. “Such as?”
I’m pleased to detect a hint of annoyance in his voice. “You asked Isadora if she still wished to bed the Prince. There are several. And,” I pause, “Raphael is the King, not the Prince. Which means you purposely asked a vague question to lead me to believe she still wants Raphael.”
Isadora stares at me, blinking slowly, eyes alight with understanding. When the stranger makes no rebuttal, I face him. His eyes are narrowed, appearing like blood-red slits in his alabaster face.
“And yet she urged him to forget you when he first arrived here.” He nods towards Isadora. “Didn’t you?”
“I did, but—” Her words disappear, as though her voice has been stolen. She clutches at her throat, confirming my suspicion.
At that, I pull my sword. The stranger merely chuckles.
“I am a Demon, sorceress.” My heart drops, the voice that leaves his lips a mimicry of Nick’s. Even the grin that now curves his mouth is reminiscent of his wolf smile. “No weapon can harm me.”
You didn’t tell me I’d be fighting actual fucking Demons, Nicholas, I send to him. How do I beat him?
Fuck. Nick growls. His name. If you call out his name, that will make him vulnerable. Tell me what he made you do, and I can better figure out who you are up against.
My attempt to reach back out to Nick is thwarted when the Demon lunges for me. I step back and swipe towards his neck, but he is too swift. He turns to me with a vicious growl, his mouth open and displaying rows of crude fangs.
“Sneaky little sorceress,” he croons. “Using a telepathic connection to communicate with your lover.”
Shit.
Just as he takes a step towards me, he grunts, his face twisting into a mask of pain. He reaches behind him to yank one of Isadora’s blades from his shoulder and swivels his head a disturbing one-hundred-and-eighty-degrees to hiss at Isadora. He crumbles her blade in his palm.
I take that opportunity to plunge my sword directly through his stomach.
His outraged cry is a cross between a scream and a snarl, and his neck cracks as it again whips towards me. I attempt to yank the sword from his abdomen, but the Demon merely smiles as he grasps the other end of the hilt and keeps me from withdrawing it.
With lightning swiftness, his fingers wrap around my neck and squeeze, lifting me from the ground. My sword clatters on the floor once he pulls it from his stomach with one vicious tug.