Chapter 8
ROOM WITH A VIEW
TO HER SURPRISE, MURMUR REMOVED HIS COAT AND gave it to Suyin to wear as a disguise, before hustling her through his lair like she was escaping the paparazzi. Which she kind of was, considering she was a living mortal in Hell—not something demons saw every day.
The coat was so large on her, it swept the floor, and the oversized hood completely covered her face. She wrapped the massive thing around her like a blanket, surprised at the softness of the heavy black leather.
She cradled her bags of apples and carrots and the remaining two water bottles like the precious cargo they were, and she tried to keep up with Murmur’s long strides without stumbling. Sure, she’d eaten and had some water, but she was going to need more than that to get back to full strength.
She was dimly aware of following Murmur down a long underground tunnel, climbing a winding rough-hewn staircase, and then passing through a high-ceilinged hall.
Any time they crossed paths with other demons, all of varying shapes and sizes, the creatures folded nearly in half, chanting “Master” until they were out of sight.
With their noses practically hitting the ground, it made it easy for Suyin to go unnoticed.
Murmur ignored them entirely. Either he wasn’t into bowing and scraping, or he was just as coldly indifferent to his servants as he was to her. The notion was oddly reassuring. At least she wasn’t the only one on the receiving end of that empty stare.
At the end of a long pillared hallway, they passed two sentries and began to climb another staircase that spiraled upward in wide circles.
Creepy statues decorated the entranceways to the different levels, but Suyin barely noticed them.
She was just trying to keep from falling on her ass.
Or worse, into the enormous hole in the center of the stairwell.
There was no railing, just a straight drop to the bottom.
She supposed for a winged demon, it would be a convenient way to ascend or descend the levels, and it had probably been designed that way on purpose. Then she glanced at Murmur’s tall back in front of her.
He wore a loose shirt, and his long white hair was braided into a thick rope. Surely he had wings. Why climb the stairs then? He could have carried her easily.
She would have fought him tooth and nail though, and she figured that was probably the reason. She was exhausted, and though a part of her would have given anything not to have to walk, another part of her relished that tiny victory.
Making this demon’s life worse than the hell he lived in was her new primary objective.
After several levels, the adjoining floors ended, and they continued climbing stairs around and around, suggesting that they were entering a freestanding tower of considerable height.
Her entire focus narrowed to lifting one foot and placing it on the next step and then repeating the action on the other side.
She refused to show Murmur even an ounce of weakness. That alone gave her the strength to climb the rest of the way up.
Eventually, she saw a ceiling overhead and knew they were close to the top.
The staircase passed through a hole to a landing with a single wooden door on the left.
There was a statue of a centipede monster across from it, set into a small alcove in the stone.
The steps continued ahead, but unlike the open stairs below with the death drop, these were enclosed behind the walls of the level they now stood on.
Murmur had stopped on the landing and was waiting for her to catch up. As she did, he frowned at her sweaty, flushed face like he didn’t have a clue what was wrong with her. Bastard.
He unlatched the door, stepping into a short hall, and she followed him through.
The tunnels underground had been low-ceilinged, and he’d had to stoop to keep from hitting his horns on the rock overhead.
But here in the tower, everything was built for someone his size, which of course made Suyin feel positively miniature.
There were entrances on each of the three walls, and Murmur led her toward the one at the end.
She was running on pure adrenaline at this point, and she could honestly say she’d never explored a castle in Hell before, so it was interesting enough to keep her awake.
Everything was dusty and smelled faintly rotten.
Like something had died here a while ago, leaving a putrid stench of decay permanently soiling the air.
She scrunched her nose up against the foul smell.
“These will be your quarters,” Murmur said.
“Why does it smell like something died?”
“It’s dust. I keep this level empty, and it doesn’t get much use.”
“It smells like death.”
“You’re in Hell. Everything smells like death.” He pushed open the door. “Here’s the bedroom. The other doors lead to the bathroom and study. Fresh water will be brought to you for bathing every day by the same demons who bring it for me.”
She barely heard him. She was staring at the bed. It was a queen-sized mattress with a fresh duvet and sheets. “Where did you get this bed?”
Murmur looked at her like she was stupid. “What do you mean?”
“I mean. This is Hell. That bed looks fresh out of a hotel.”
“Earth is just a hellgate away. And for demons who don’t want to break the rules by visiting without sanction, anything one needs can be purchased at the Blood Market.”
The Blood Market. Not the black market. How positively hellish.
“But the bedding looks clean.”
“And?” He looked irritated now.
“You said the floor was deserted.”
“My servants keep the linens fresh. Just because no one is staying here presently doesn’t mean I’m going to leave everything to rot.
Just because I’m a demon doesn’t mean I live primitively or enjoy groveling in filth.
” He shot her a disgusted look, like he was insulted by her mere presence.
“For a witch, I would have expected you to be less ignorant.”
She matched his glare. “I was smart enough to keep away from demons, so forgive me if this comes as a surprise.”
He rolled his eyes. “Get settled. I have work to do. You may use anything you find here, but you are not to go to the top floor.”
She wandered over to the bedroom window and peered out, eyes widening at the view.
They were at the top of the tallest point of the castle.
The black-stone structure, which looked like something out of a nightmare, was surrounded by a high stone wall topped with spikes.
A decrepit village surrounded the castle and lined the inside of the walls, and she could see the tiny shapes of demons milling about.
In the distance, red, cracked plains reached the bases of tall craggy mountains.
There wasn’t a drop of vegetation as far as the eye could see. The sky was red. Red.
She really was in Hell. It boggled the mind.
“Is that clear?”
She turned back. Murmur stood by the door all high and mighty with one eyebrow raised. He’d really mastered the sass, hadn’t he?
“Don’t disturb you. Got it.” She added under her breath, “As if I’d want to.”
“Do not enter the top floor under any circumstances, unless I explicitly permit it.”
“I think you overestimate the pleasure of your company,” she replied with a sneer. “I have no desire to spend any more time in your presence than necessary.”
“Then we are in accordance. Now give me back my coat.”
She was still wrapped in the thing like it was her favorite comfort blanket, wasn’t she? Scowling, she set her cargo on the bed, removed the heavy coat, and held it out to him.
But he was all the way across the room.
He stayed where he was, holding out one of his creepy long-fingered hands and gesturing for her to cross the room and give it to him.
She didn’t move.
His eyes narrowed. She set her jaw.
It was a battle of wills. Neither of them wanted to be the first to give in. Well, it certainly wasn’t going to be her. He’d captured and half starved her; she wasn’t going to make things easy for him.
“Give me the coat, Suyin.” His voice was low. Full of warning.
“Come and get it,” she replied, holding his stare. So what if her palms were sweating?
They glared at each other.
And then … he smiled. The chilling curve in the corners of his mouth caught her off guard, and she suddenly got the feeling he’d just changed the rules of their game. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to play anymore.
But it was too late to back down, and her pride wouldn’t let her anyway.
The smoke that danced at his feet began to churn with increased agitation. She swallowed. The shapes rose higher and seemed to thicken. Or … solidify.
And then the ghostly mass began to move. It crept across the floor, and she swore she saw the faint outline of hands, clawing their way across the wood planks, dragging their ethereal bodies toward her.
A wave of chills swept down her spine. The temperature felt like it had dropped several degrees.
Before her, a column of smoke rose from the floor, higher and higher, until the roiling black mass was equal to her height.
From the hazy gloom, a shape formed. Shoulders. A head. A … face. Sunken eye sockets, hollow cheekbones, strips of flesh hanging from an empty skull, rotted lips giving way to a mouth full of blackened teeth.
The specter stretched out a skeletal hand. Long bones, spindly fingers, decaying flesh clinging to it like cobwebs. It reached toward her. Closer, closer …
The hand curled around the coat still dangling in her trembling grip.
Instantly, she released the garment. Her blood felt like ice in her veins. The specter tightened its grasp on the fabric and actually held it. A ghost was holding onto a solid coat.
She watched the spirit drift back across the bedroom floor toward its master. The master who was giving it the power to do this and controlling its actions at the same time.