Chapter 11 #2
Go in. Catch her unaware. Startle her and see if she’ll scream.
He rolled his eyes. “She’d be more likely to stab me again.”
The idiotic voice in his head laughed as if it had enjoyed having a blade stuck in his jugular.
Shaking his head, he continued up to the top floor, stopping outside the entrance to his bedchamber. He’d spent the last six hours flying around his territory, and his attempts to sleep the night prior had been fruitless.
But falling into the bone-chilling terror of his death vision was the last thing he felt like doing at present, even if he was overtired to the point of barely functioning. He continued past.
You’re a wreck, that stupid little voice reminded him. You’re so tired you can’t see straight, let alone make actual progress with your work. If you tried to cast the spell right now, you’d pass out before you even summoned the hellfire.
“Will you stop it?” he snarled, pushing open the library doors. He went to the fireplace and tossed another log onto the dwindling fire. “I’m sick of your pestering. If you’re going to be in my head, couldn’t you think of something useful to say for once?”
I’m you. Tell yourself that.
He gripped his hair in frustration as he crossed the room toward his desk, careful to avoid stepping on the sigil. He dropped into his chair and stared at the mess before him. “I know that. I’m aware. You’ve made it perfectly clear that I’m losing my mi—”
His head snapped up at a slight rustling sound, and he found himself staring into the dark eyes of his little prisoner.
She sat cross-legged on the floor on the far side of the room, her back against the tall bookshelves. There was a huge dusty grimoire in her lap and a stack of several more beside her. She stared at him with wide eyes, and he had the impression she’d been doing that since he walked in.
His ire rose, but their interaction the day before returned to his memory. He’d given her permission to be here, and she was doing exactly as she’d promised. Working silently out of his way, and other than the stack of grimoires beside her, she didn’t appear to have moved anything.
She was still frozen, staring at him apprehensively. Probably because he’d been arguing with himself.
He was so used to being alone that he’d become accustomed to speaking aloud to the voices in his head. Talking to himself helped him organize his chaotic thoughts. He didn’t care if it made the witch uncomfortable.
Yeah, right. Your face is hot. I think you’re blushing.
“Shut up,” he growled before he thought better of it.
“I didn’t say anything,” Suyin replied warily.
“Not you.”
She looked confused. And concerned.
He rolled his eyes and focused back on his desk without actually seeing anything on it.
He already regretted making that stupid agreement with her. What the hell had he been thinking? She’d agreed to give him her blood willingly when he let her out of the dungeon. She didn’t need to stand beside him while he cast the spell.
The difference between an unwilling and willing blood sacrifice was notable, yes.
But the difference between a willing blood sacrifice being absent or present for the casting ritual was not.
He’d convinced himself he’d agreed because every bit of extra power could mean the difference between success and failure.
But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?
“There isn’t,” he muttered to himself, shuffling papers around with no real purpose.
I think you’re lonely. You like the idea of having someone around. Especially someone with actual intelligence, who is interested in your books.
“You’re delusional.”
A sardonic laugh echoed around his mind, merging with the distant, ever-present screams of his souls. Insult me all you want. You’re just insulting yourself.
He ground his teeth. Paper. He needed paper. A fresh piece. Every sheet here was covered in scribbles that had seemed terribly important at the time but were now meaningless. He didn’t have the energy to read them and try to jog his memory about what they meant.
Feeling eyes on him, his head snapped up again, and he found Suyin still watching him. His eyes narrowed with warning. He was in a foul mood, and she was an easy target.
He hated that she’d so easily figured out what he wanted and used it to coerce him into giving her what she wanted. He was tempted to throw her back in the dungeon out of spite. He dared her with his eyes to challenge him now. See where it got her.
She stared back with a calculating expression that was not timid enough for his liking. But a moment later she dropped her gaze, focusing her attention back on her book.
He relaxed slightly. She was a pain in the ass, but at least she knew when to back down.
He returned his attention to the mess on his desk, continuing to shuffle papers around, looking for one that wasn’t filled on both sides with scribbling.
Somewhere here he had a stack of blank paper he’d been steadily working through.
He was sure there were at least a few sheets left, but he couldn’t fucking find them.
Growling with frustration, he continued sorting papers, his tail flicking with his growing irritation. He swept a pile onto the floor when he couldn’t see properly, knocking over a cup of pencils in the process.
A light throat clearing had his head snapping up.
Suyin stood on the other side of his desk.
“What?” he snapped.
She lifted her hand. In it was the stack of blank paper he’d been trying to find. “I saw this on the other table and thought it might be what you were looking for.”
He clenched his jaw and shot her the most furious glare known to man. To her credit, she didn’t so much as twitch. There was no smug look on her face, no mocking smile, nothing to push him over the edge.
Slowly, he stretched out a hand and snatched the papers from her grip. He said nothing, waiting for her to react.
She didn’t. She just turned and walked calmly back to where she’d been sitting, careful to avoid the sigil on her way.
He watched her lower herself to the floor and pull the grimoire back into her lap. She started to read, long black hair falling over her face. Several seconds later, she lifted a hand to tuck it behind her ear. An ear covered in piercings—rings and studs and all manner of metal things.
His head tilted.
She turned the page. The movement jostled the hair, and it slipped forward over her face like a curtain. She tucked it again, revealing that tiny decorated ear once more.
She was such an odd creature. So breakable. But strangely resilient at the same time.
She glanced up and caught him staring at her. Their eyes met, and hers flared slightly. She swallowed and tucked the hair behind her ear again, though it hadn’t fallen forward yet. Color rose to her cheeks, subtle on her lightly tanned skin.
Her gaze darted back to her book, but he had the distinct impression she wasn’t reading this time. She shifted positions slightly. She was too aware of him watching her to focus, and that gave him a measure of satisfaction. He liked making her uncomfortable.
Satisfied, he finally dropped his gaze to the stack of blank paper in his hand. He had no memory of putting it on the other table, and he could easily have spent an hour furiously searching before he located it.
His clouded, fractured mind was his own worst enemy, but he didn’t have any way to correct it. He simply managed it as best he could.
He stood and grabbed one of the pencils from the floor, not bothering to pick the rest up. He felt Suyin’s eyes on him the moment he moved, but she was careful to keep her head down as if she was still reading.
She was watching him, but she didn’t want him to know it. Why this pleased him, he wasn’t sure.
Sitting once more, he tried to force his scrambled mind to focus. The stress was tightening his shoulders, and the exhaustion made his eyes burn. In the back of his mind, as they always did, his souls screamed for mercy. He ignored them.
But they were still there. They were always there.
Suyin stared at the grimoire in her lap without reading it.
Her lack of focus annoyed her. She hadn’t had any trouble reading before Murmur had stormed in, arguing with himself.
In fact, she’d been completely engrossed, her mind spinning with excitement as she dove into this incredible collection of knowledge.
There was so much information here, it would take a lifetime to go through it all. She didn’t know how much time she had, but she knew it was limited. She ought to be using every waking second to absorb as much knowledge as she could.
But she couldn’t focus for shit as soon as Murmur showed up.
Instead, she let her hair slide out from behind her ear and fall over her face, and she watched him work from behind it, hoping for any sort of clue as to what the hell he was doing.
He was currently muttering under his breath as he scribbled rapidly on paper. The Book of Gamigin was open on the desk in front of him. Occasionally he would crumple up the page he was writing on and toss it over his shoulder.
He was either a madman or a total genius. Perhaps both.
Either way, she was burning with curiosity—even more than before. Whatever he was up to involved her grimoire, the one she’d struggled in vain for years to make sense of. But now she knew for certain that The Book of Gamigin contained important information, and Murmur knew what it was.
Maybe it held answers about her mysterious abilities. Maybe she could finally figure out whether her father actually wrote it or had just acquired it somehow, and why. Or whether her mother had known what it meant, and if so, why she hadn’t told Suyin.
Whatever it was, Murmur knew about it. But how to get him to open up? He was tight-lipped and disinclined to talking, unless it involved threatening her.
At that moment, he mumbled something incoherent, swept another crumpled page off the table, and then began flipping through the pages of another grimoire on the desk, still muttering grumpily.
If she’d met him under any other circumstance, even if he was in human form, she would have steered clear. Everything about him, from his haughty expressions to his unpredictable reactions, was one big red flag.
And not “red flag” as in Iris’s shitty, toxic ex-boyfriends. “Red flag” as in potential serial killer with a murder room in his basement.
Which, technically, was completely true. She’d seen his dungeon.
Still, after watching him for a while, she had to admire his concentration. He continued reading and writing and muttering without looking up once. It was like he’d forgotten the world existed.
Maybe she ought to give it a try. She glanced at the grimoire in her lap and forced herself to focus once again. Maybe it was Murmur’s intense concentration permeating the library, but before long, she got lost in her own studies again.
She’d always been resistant to studying Sheolic magic, but that was before she’d found this library. And been kidnapped by a demon. Every grimoire here was full of black magic, but she was starting to realize that she didn’t care what it took—learning to protect herself was worth any risk.
Hours later, she looked up again, blinking when she remembered where she was. Realizing her legs were numb, she straightened them, wincing at the stretch of muscles that weren’t used to sitting cross-legged for so long. Time to take a break.
She glanced at Murmur. He was still working. His hair fell over his face, and he tapped an idle claw on the desk as he read from a book. He hadn’t moved once the entire time. She couldn’t help but admire that kind of work ethic.
Making as little sound as possible, she lifted the grimoire off her lap and rose to her feet, her stiff legs protesting.
Carefully and quietly, she returned every book she’d borrowed to its rightful place.
She was dying to take one down to her room to keep reading without His Royal Craziness lurking around, but she didn’t want to push her luck.
She was quiet enough that Murmur didn’t appear to notice her leaving, and she closed the library door softly behind her, the latch making only the smallest click. Alone in the hallway, she let out a breath.
She’d been in his presence for a good four or five hours. He hadn’t threatened her or done anything, but she’d been on edge the entire time anyway. Just being near him was draining, and she was ready for a nap.
Climbing down the steps, she headed straight to her room, only to stop short when she saw what was waiting for her on the bed.
Someone had left a pile of carefully folded clothing, all of it black.
Beside it there was another flat of plastic water bottles—she normally hated bottled water and disposable plastic, but she doubted it was easy to find potable water in Hell—and more food.
It was hardly a fresh-cooked meal, but she wasn’t complaining.
In fact, a smile stretched across her face as she went through the clothes. There were two pairs of black leggings, a pair of sweatpants, two black tank tops, a T-shirt, a hoodie, and several pairs of underwear.
It looked like she was going to goth boot camp. She loved it.
Murmur had actually listened to her and sent his little minions on another Earth mission. And she couldn’t help but wonder if the clothing was black for a reason. He’d been stalking her, after all. He knew how she dressed.
She thought of him sitting up there alone in his library, talking to himself while he worked, and though it probably made her stupid, her hatred of him lessened a little. A very little.
She’d never thought of herself as a forgiving person. The opposite, in fact. She was often too quick to cut people out of her life. One wrong move and they were gone, all ties severed, no second chances.
She’d never been broken up with in her life.
All her ex-partners had been somewhat cruelly dumped the second she sensed clinginess from them or they wronged her in the slightest way.
And sometimes she couldn’t even use that as an excuse.
In New York, she’d dated a girl for almost a year only to break up with her because she’d suggested they move in together.
So why was she standing here with the warm fuzzies because a demon had procured her some clothing and food? He’d only done it because he’d taken her to Hell against her will, where she had nothing to wear or eat.
Maybe you’re in danger of Stockholm syndrome after all.
“Shut up,” she said aloud, just to hear what it was like to talk to herself as Murmur did. She laughed. Honestly, it felt kinda good.