Chapter 9 #2
When she didn’t respond, he leaned forward, using his height to loom over her. The closer he came, the farther she leaned back, arching her spine painfully. He leaned farther still, propping his hands on the desk on either side of her.
She couldn’t move. If she went any farther, she’d end up completely lying on the table, and she refused to take such a submissive position. Her spine protested at the crunch in her lower back, but if she straightened, she would bump into his chest.
A chest that rose and fell with steady breaths. A chest that was the same pale gray as his face and defined with lean muscle. Shadows clung to the indents above his collarbones and the line of his sternum.
She gathered her courage and dragged her gaze up to his. The skin around his eyes was darker than ever. His face was so gaunt, she could see the clear lines of his cheekbones. It was hard to think with him so close, blocking out what little light there was in the dusty library.
“Why do you need my blood?” she heard herself ask.
He stared at her, bloodshot eyes narrowing to slits. Time stretched. Every beat of her heart thudded in her ears.
“For a spell.”
No shit, Sherlock. She was surprised he’d even answered. “What does the spell do?”
His head jerked infinitesimally toward the sigil on the floor. His tall horns exaggerated the movement. “You had a chance to study it for yourself. You couldn’t decipher it?”
She noted the challenge in his bloodshot eyes. He wanted her to be clueless and stupid, she realized. Then he would be able to dismiss her. But she wasn’t going to make any of this easy for him, not if she could help it.
“Knowing who you are and that it requires a blood sacrifice,” she said, “it’s likely necromancy.
The lines are drawn in blood and chalk. That means they need extra fortification to keep from breaking, which implies there’s strong resistance against whatever you’re trying to do.
The inner part of the sigil has burned away completely, suggesting hellfire was conjured in the process.
Knowing that, if I had to guess …” Fuck, she was just spitballing here.
In truth, she didn’t have a clue, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.
“I’d say you’re either trying to break a very powerful seal or create one. ”
His head tilted, locks of shiny white hair sliding over his shoulder. His lips drew together, but he didn’t look displeased. More … curious?
He was difficult to read. It was hard enough to see past his unnerving eyes and the black shadows around them set into that pale face. And she couldn’t think with him so close.
“So?” She forced her voice to remain level. “Am I right?”
“Which is it?” he asked. “Am I breaking or creating a seal?”
Her eyes narrowed. He genuinely wanted her to guess. And while a part of her wanted to tell him to go fuck himself and then see if she could reach up far enough to gouge his eyes out, another part wanted to prove to him that she wasn’t the helpless little mortal he thought she was.
“Breaking,” she decided. “You’re trying to break a seal.”
“Hm.”
Her brows rose in expectation of a confirmation of her guess.
He smiled thinly. “I guess you’ll never know.”
Dick. She ground her teeth. “What do you want with me? Why do you have my grimoire?”
Ignoring her questions, he pushed off the desk suddenly and stepped back, and it was like all the air returned to the room. She sucked in a greedy breath and straightened out of her painful backbend.
Now that he’d given her space, she was pissed off at how much she’d lost composure. But that had been exactly his intent, hadn’t it? He’d wanted to remind her that she was still afraid of him, and he’d succeeded. Bastard. Prick. Asshole.
“I specifically told you not to come up here,” he said, staring at the sigil on the floor.
She said nothing. She had no way to justify herself. She’d known she would get caught too, but she hadn’t planned out what to do once that happened.
“No one is allowed here.” His voice was a low growl. “Those that disobeyed me in the past ended up on the tower spikes. As far as I know they’re still there.”
His head swung around, and he pinned her with a sharp look. He saw her confusion and jerked his chin toward the window.
Obeying his silent command, she unglued her rear end from the edge of the desk and took careful steps toward the dusty glass.
Pulling her jacket sleeve down, she smudged a tiny peep hole into the filth and then peered through the window.
Outside she saw the black-blood sky and the shapes of distant mountains.
She also had a clear view of the rest of the castle.
There were several more towers, all lower than the one they were in.
The tops were sharp spires. Atop those spires were bodies.
Demons had been impaled through their midsections and stacked on top of one another like a grizzly shish kebab.
She jerked back to stare at him in horror.
And he smiled.
Of course he did.
He was fucking disturbed. He had a torture dungeon and an army of dead humans enslaved to him.
He impaled demons on his towers and had the audacity to smile about it.
He’d left her to starve in a cell and only bothered to let her out because he needed her blood and didn’t want her to die.
Not only did he not care about her wellbeing, he got off on terrorizing her.
He was the enemy. He would not show mercy unless she forced him to. She had the distinct impression that he would seize any chance to betray those not careful to protect themselves in negotiations, simply because he could.
If she was going to survive this, she needed to be very careful.
“So?” That dark eyebrow arched again. “What’s your excuse? Why shouldn’t I treat you like every other person who disobeys me?” When she still didn’t speak, he added, “Now would be a good time to beg.”
His eyes burned with challenge. The corners of his mouth curved, like he was anticipating her groveling.
Instead she said, “How much more powerful would that spell be if I stood beside you while you cast it with my blood coming straight from the source?”
His smile dropped.
The silence was so charged, she swore she heard the crackle of energy.
“You have some nerve,” he snarled, and he came toward her again.
She didn’t move, though every instinct in her body screamed at her to run. She waited for his approach, expecting him to loom over her again. But he took it a step further.
This time, his cold hand curled around her throat. His touch was even icier than the specters brushing against her legs. He tightened his grip until she couldn’t draw a full breath, the tiny bursts of air making her heart flutter with panic.
He stooped until they were at eye level.
“You’re still trying to manipulate me. That makes you very brave or very stupid. Or both.”
“I … can … help you,” she wheezed through her constricted windpipe. His hand sent chills racing through her blood.
“How could you possibly be of service to me?” His pale eyes roved down her body like he was disgusted by the sight of her.
But he loosened his grip ever so slightly.
“I’ll help you cast,” she said quickly. Her voice was hoarse from being strangled.
Fucking zombie freak piece of shit. She pictured stabbing a dagger straight into his skull.
“I’ll not only give my blood willingly, but I’ll let you take it as it comes from my veins.
I’ll help you prepare. I’ll do whatever you want. ”
His brow arched, and she realized he was waiting for her to tell him what she wanted in exchange. Because in his world, nothing was ever given freely. There was no such thing as generosity to a creature like him.
“In return … I want access to this library.”
“No.”
“I won’t damage anything. I won’t take anything. I just want to study.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Are you kidding?” Suddenly, she didn’t care about the fact that the hand curled around her throat could snap her neck if he simply flexed his fingers.
“I want to learn. I want knowledge, and I can’t begin to imagine how much information is here.
If I’m going to be stuck in Hell until you figure out your stupid spell, I might as well do something useful with my time. ”
He searched her gaze, eyes narrowed with suspicion. But he was actually considering her proposal, she realized, and her heart raced with anticipation.
She was well aware that if he gave her what she wanted, it wouldn’t help her escape any faster. But until she came up with a better plan, she was trapped, and she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to explore this library. She might never get a chance like this again in her life.
He straightened suddenly, releasing her throat. She sucked in a hungry breath. They stared at each other for a moment, and then he spun and stalked away, heading toward the door.
She expected him to leave without responding, but at the last second he turned back, looking over his shoulder.
His tail flicked restlessly behind him. His souls churned at his feet like agitated smoke.
She had to admit he was impressive, with that streaming head of white hair and those towering horns.
“You will not move anything from its original place. You will not damage anything—not so much as a creased spine or crumpled page. You will not interrupt or interfere with my work in any way. You will not look at or touch anything on my desk. And you will not enter the other room in the hall.”
She nodded eagerly, scarcely believing her luck.
“And this time, if you disobey me, I will throw you back in that dungeon so fast, you won’t have time to beg for mercy.
There will be no provisions brought to you from Earth.
There will be no special exceptions made.
You’ll be treated like any other of my prisoners, chained spread-eagled to the wall, hanging by your wrists. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly,” she croaked.
He turned once more and made to leave. Just as his hand curled around the handle, she thought of one more way to push her luck.
“Wait.”
He paused again, hand on the door handle, but he didn’t turn back this time. He was pissed; she could tell by the tightening of his shoulders and the agitated swirling of his souls. But she soldiered on regardless.
“I need clothes. I can’t be expected to wear the same outfit every day. I need to wash my clothes, and I have nothing to wear while they’re drying.”
He turned his head enough for her to see his straight nose in profile. She swore she could see his jaw grinding.
“And I’m going to run out of food and water soon. I’ll need more.”
“You don’t need either of those things. Your ignorance has caused you to believe so strongly in human weaknesses that you manifested them.”
She stared at his back. What the hell does that mean? Was he telling her she wasn’t human? That was ridiculous. Absurd.
And yet … she was fifty years old and hadn’t aged in twenty-five years. She healed from wounds in hours instead of days. She was twice as strong as everyone else her size. She’d always assumed it was a highly unusual manifestation of a blood-born witch ability, but what if it was something else?
Could she really survive without food and water? And if she wasn’t human …
Then what the hell was she?
Before she could ask Murmur, however, he pulled open the door and disappeared through it with a slam.
Alone, she looked around the goldmine of a library to which she now had unfettered access, her mind racing a mile a minute. Maybe, just maybe, the answers she sought about herself could be found here. And if not in a book, then in the mind of her captor.
Once again, her plans shifted.
She still wanted to kill him, still would visualize doing horrifically violent things to him on an hourly basis, but … he couldn’t die. Not yet, at least. Not until he revealed everything he knew about her. Why she had these abilities. Who she was.
What she was.
He had answers. And she was going to do whatever it took to get them.