Chapter Nine #2
“In our time apart, I’ve done some thinking,” he adds and I can hear the smirk in his tone. “I’m willing to let you have all the succubi you want.”
Smacking the contract out of the air, I rip myself away from his touch.
“Go fuck yourself, Kassil,” I snarl, storming into the hall.
“Gods, I didn’t think I could love you any more than I already do,” his laughter trails into the hall behind me. “I adore you when you prove me wrong.”
The irony of an archdemon talking about love isn’t lost on me. Demons don’t have hearts. Demons don’t love. They don’t love anything more than they love themselves.
Darkness engulfs me, ferrying me away from the archdemon. It vanishes as quickly as it had appeared, delivering me to the one place in the Tower Netharis only allows his children—the dormitory level.
Here, Kassil cannot reach me.
Here, I’m trapped when I need to be searching for this nyraphim Netharis has locked away somewhere. Quickly, hopelessness begins to flood me—finding this creature that shouldn’t be in the hells is a monumental task.
And I’m running out of time.
Crossing the room, I fall into my bed and stare at the ceiling. My wings create a protective cradle around me, and I sigh. My mind whirls with thoughts. Sickening possibilities, dreadful choices, and slivers of hope.
Pulling the amulet from the pouch on my hip, I hold it above my face, letting it dangle freely. The moonstone glints even in the dim lighting of the hells as it spins. An array of colors shine on its surface, iridescent hues over the white mesmerize me.
As the pendant slows in its twisting and spinning, a small engraving on the backside of the pendant catches my attention. Stopping the pendant with my other hand, I turn it over. There’s an engraving here.
Dearest daughter,
Fall in love with life.
Celesta
With a bitter laugh, I throw the chain over my head and tuck the pendant under my robes. The long chain allows for the pendant to hide with ease, falling to rest between my breasts, over my still heart. A cooling sensation thrums where the silver meets my skin, reminding me of her touch.
Fall in love with life?
She has no idea who I am, what I’ve become. Does she know about the things I’ve done in Netharis’ name? The treachery and deceit, the disregard for others—all for myself. Is it possible for me to fall in love with anything?
The use of daughter tells me there has to be a pendant for Vaelyn. She wanted to see him that night. I can’t be sure why, but something in my bones tells me it’s because he’s the heir of the hells. What better way to strike at the god of death than to capture his most prized possession?
I doubt Vaelyn would ever consider leaving the hells. He’s never wanted anything more than what he’s been given. Why should he want more when he’s as untouchable as Netharis himself?
My mind continues to wander. To Sunshine, to Celesta. Both have said things that leave me plagued with questions.
“She thought it would be the male. I told her she was wrong.” Sunshine’s words fill my ears.
“Perhaps it is you after all. She was right.” Celesta’s quickly follow.
Right about what? And what is it they assumed?
Shaking the thoughts away, I sigh.
It doesn’t matter.
I need to focus on escaping. Which means finding this gods damned nyraphim.
One hurdle at a time, otherwise I’ll trip and fall.
And fail.
In a whirl of shadows in the center of my room, Ylara appears, her eyes wide. As I bolt upright, she says, “Kassil is appealing Netharis for clearance to this floor. You have to find somewhere else to stay.”
Shit.
Rushing toward me, Ylara takes my hand. “Pack your things, I have an idea.”
?????????????
This layer has sat empty for the last three centuries.
And it shows.
The cluttered room lies covered in a thick layer of dust that springs into the air under my footsteps.
Ylara locks the door, and crooking her fingers, casts an old magic ward.
Tiny blue-silver runes shimmer into existence, racing down each wall, over the windows, along the floor, ceiling, and door, creating a protective curtain.
“A sound and light guard,” she says quietly. “And only the three of us will be able to pass through the ward.”
Ylara, Vaelyn, and myself.
Magelights bloom as I move further into the room, intricate sconces of gold and crystal illuminating the space, revealing the depth of the disarray. Drawers left open, chairs toppled, shelves cleared.
Abandoned in a hurry under the threat of Netharis.
It’s as hidden as I can hope to achieve within the Tower.
Neglected and forgotten, Netharis isn’t likely to have granted Kassil permission to access the layer that once bustled with dozens of high-ranking Houses of succubi and inccubi. There’s no reason for him to have it.
Especially not after our debacle with Druka.
Netharis let me keep access, not as a kindness.
As a punishment.
He wanted me to see the hollowed layer following her banishment. A reminder that my choices, regardless of how small, reflect upon Netharis’ House, upon his status. My romantic involvement with a succubus caused an uproar among the Layer Lords as I’d already been promised to Kassil.
Letting my leather messenger bag strap slip from my shoulder, it drops to the floor without grace. A plume of dust shoots into the air and I scowl. Tearing the tattered white sheet from the couch, I let it fall to the floor and claim the corner seat, folding my legs under me.
Thankfully, this is not her quarters.
I don’t think I could handle hunkering down in Druka’s room despite the countless hours I’d spent in them centuries ago.
Ylara seats herself on the opposite end of the couch, letting her head fall back against the headrest. She stares at the vaulted ceiling.
“I tried to get more information from Sunshine,” she says with a drawn sigh. “She didn’t give me a location, but she gave me a description of the obsidian jar the nyraphim is being held in.”
Letting my head fall back, I do the same and stare at the ceiling. “Jar? Not box?”
She nods. “Inscribed with both Yggdrasil and Malbolge runes supposedly.”
A talon finds its way to my teeth as I rip through my memories, scouring for any object fitting the description I may have come across.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such a thing,” I deign with a huff.
“Neither have I.”
“How can a nyraphim exist within the hells? It shouldn’t be possible.”
“You know as well as I do the gods bend the primordial order to suit their needs when they deem fit,” Ylara answers, her tone near patronizing.
“Is it all gods, or is it just Netharis?” I muse dryly.
Ylara scoffs a laugh. “Do any of the other gods matter when they have the power to intervene but do not?”
My brows raise with the truth of her pointed question.
“I didn’t know you harbored such anger, Ylara,” I say softly, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.
Ylara turns her head, shifting her piercing stare to me. Pulling my gaze down from the ceiling, I let my head fall to the left to meet it.
“Not anger,” she says, “disgust.”
Fair enough.
She sighs. “Are you going to tell Vaelyn?”
I purse my lips. “He would know where such a jar would be.”
“He’ll tell Netharis.” The concern in her voice matches the expression upon her face.
“It won’t matter if we don’t find the nyraphim.”
?????????????
Turns out, being lectured by the heir of the hells is a lot like being lectured by the god of death himself.
So many little things I never noticed before make themselves apparent—gestures, facial expressions, the way he speaks… Netharis has molded my twin to be like him, and the realization sits heavy against my chest.
“Are you even listening to me?” Vaelyn snaps his fingers in front of my face and I wince. He sighs. “You’re not.”
Crossing the room, he throws himself into a high backed chair near a bookshelf.
“I have a lot going on,” I admit quietly.
“Clearly,” he counters in a displeased tone.
“I’ve made my decision, Vae,” I shrug my shoulders.
“A decision that will result in you being locked away for eternity,” he snaps back sharply.
“I don’t care.”
“And you,” he turns his irritation to Ylara, “you didn’t stop to think of the dangers of helping her in this?”
Ylara gives him a wicked smirk. “Are you going to threaten to lock me away too, heir?”
“Ylara,” I urge tiredly.
Having Ylara and Vaelyn in the same room is an argument waiting to happen. Vaelyn likes to be the dominating personality in the room, and Ylara feeds on it, challenging him at every turn. Over the centuries, I’ve learned to keep the two separate.
Vaelyn pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Yes, I’ve seen the jar. No, I don’t know what lies within.”
“Where?” My body tenses.
“His study. On a shelf behind his desk.”
“Look at that, the heir has his uses after all,” Ylara digs, rising from her seat on the couch.
“Where are you going?” Vaelyn asks, bewildered. “You can’t just go and take it.”
“Sure I can,” Ylara laughs. “He never notices me.”
“He’s in there with Kassil and Arzak right now. Even if he doesn’t notice you, they will.” He pauses, “How in the nine hells will an obsidian jar help Ves?”
Both Ylara and I remain silent, staring at our sibling.
“I see,” he sighs, nodding. His cerulean eyes meet mine. “Ves, I need you to really think this through. Doing something like this—trying to escape—I won’t be able to protect you from him.”
“Because you’ve done an immaculate job of protecting her thus far,” Ylara unleashes herself, her voice dripping with venom.
Vaelyn springs to his feet, snarling. “And what have you done, Ylara? How often do you stand against Netharis on her behalf?”
“You know exactly what I’ve done,” Ylara growls in return as inky fog begins to drip from her clenched fists. “And what I’ll continue to do.”
My own irritation begins to rise. “Enough!” I shout and their heads swivel.
“I’ve never asked either of you for anything.
But I am asking now. If I want any chance of escaping the hells, I need that jar.
Sooner rather than later.” I level a pointed stare at Vaelyn.
“If you do not want to help, fine. But you cannot breathe a word of this to Netharis.”
“Ves, you know—”
“As a favor to me,” I interrupt him and his scowl softens.
“A favor?” he scoffs a laugh. “And if I want to collect upon it later?”
“Should it suit you, you’re welcome to. Though I’m not sure how I’d be able to return a favor if I’m either in the living realm or locked in obsidian.” I reply with a callous shrug.
Vaelyn smirks. “Done.” He reclaims his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “What you need is a distraction. Something to get Netharis out of his study.”
My brows raise.
“That’s it? That’s all it takes? A promise of a favor, and you’re willing to help?” I stare rather incredulously at my brother.
“The promise of a favor from the demon responsible for nearly cleaving the hells in two? Yes. Yes, I will take that.” He nods firmly.
Ylara scoffs, rolling her eyes.
Ignoring her, Vaelyn says, “I can provide the distraction. You and Ylara can search his study. It’s a matter of when you want to do this.”
Excitement, panic, and fear braid themselves together in my chest, causing it to tighten. “There are a few things I need to collect before I’m ready. Things I can barter, sell. I’ll need funds for mortal commerce systems.”
“I can grab them for you,” Ylara says. “Tell me what you need.”
“In the library, there is a book. Fated Celestials. It was the one I was reading near the fireplace the night we went to Ollora. Also, the obsidian box—the carved one.”
Ylara nods.
“What is your plan when you emerge amongst the living?” Vaelyn asks, rubbing his chin. “Do you plan on trusting Celesta?”
A strange tingle works its way up my spine and my innate vibrates. A warning. The urge to lie strikes and I hesitate.
“No,” I answer with the truth. “I’ve no intention of drawing the attention of any god.” At least that isn’t a lie.
“Where will you go?”
The urge punches me again. But this time, I listen.
“With any luck, I’ll find myself in Lightvale or Elias.” The lie rolls too smoothly off my tongue.
Vaelyn’s brow arches. “Cities in human led countries? You realize we’re half fae, right?”
I nod. “But humans will be less likely to notice I don’t uphold fae traditions.”
“Smart.” Ylara gives an approving nod.
“And how well do you think you’ll acclimate as a creature of the hells?” Vaelyn asks, his tone pointed. “You are a demon, Ves. What makes you think you’ll be welcome among humans? What happens when you can no longer repress your demonic urges?”
His questions open up more hurdles for me to grapple.
“If you’re going to seriously follow this through, you need to consider these things, Ves,” he says, giving me a firm stare.
“One thing at a time, Vae,” I answer, my voice barely audible.
Gods damn Vaelyn and his doubt-inspiring logic.
I can’t trip and fall now.