Chapter 13
THE FINGER OF RESPONSIBILITY
MEPH SHOWED UP AT THE HOUSE A FEW DAYS AFTER the incident.
A part of Belial wanted to slam the door in his face. He couldn’t deny he was still a little pissed at his brother for riling him up and making him feel like shit about his life. But mostly, he just felt guilty, and he knew he owed him a conversation.
So when he saw Meph sheepishly grinning on his doorstep—his right hand wrapped in gauze—Bel stepped back and let him in.
“Nice hair,” was the first thing Meph said.
Bel ran his fingers through it. He hadn’t bothered getting a haircut after his last rage attack. He supposed he was tired of fighting the inevitable.
New mansion, long hair … Maybe he was having a midlife crisis.
He and Meph sat outside on the patio with coffees. The silence was weighted, but it wasn’t awkward. They’d spent too much time together for that to ever be an issue.
“So …” Meph shifted in his seat and stared at the pool like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“Damn it.” Bel propped an elbow on his chair’s armrest and dropped his head into his hand.
“What?”
“I’m supposed to be the one apologizing. I was trying to work up the nerve, but you beat me to it.”
“Nah.” Meph fidgeted with his cup, spinning it in circles on the table. With his left hand, of course. The one with all the fingers still attached.
Bel lifted his head. “I chopped your fingers off.”
“I know.” Meph held up his bandaged appendage, that goofy grin appearing on his face.
“Why the fuck are you smiling?”
“Because, in hindsight, it’s hilarious. I can’t wait to tell this story a million times.”
Bel shook his head.
“I shouldn’t have said all that shit,” Meph said, picking up his cup and staring at the coffee in it. “Ash came and tore me a new one after, and he’s right.”
“Ash did?”
“Yeah.”
“I hardly even remember him being there.”
“You know Ash. Always quiet in the corner, observing our idiocy, and then giving us shit for it later.”
“True.” Bel nodded knowingly. He may have felt like the burden of responsibility fell on his shoulders, but he’d always known Asmodeus carried a heavy load of his own. Especially back in Hell, when Bel had been even more unstable than he was now.
“I remember what it was like when I couldn’t control my demon,” Meph said, “and I had to keep him caged with that sigil that kept me from shifting. That sucked.” He looked at Bel.
“But I guess it’s worse with the anger, isn’t it?
Because there’s nothing you can tattoo on yourself to keep it in.
You just have to … force it to stay in check.
” He shook his head. “That sounds shitty.”
Bel grunted noncommittally. It was. But there was no need for him to go on about it.
“So, yeah.” Meph shifted in his chair. “I think it’s cool what you’ve done here, getting set up in this cushy house and shit.”
Bel cocked a brow.
“I do. Maybe I was a dick because … I’m a little jealous.”
“Just buy your own house then, dumbass.”
“Well…” Meph twisted his hands in his lap. “You know how Raum collected a fortune in Hell from all his stealing, and you and Ash are old as shit so you’re just rich by default?”
“Yeah …”
“Well, I was too busy being … a demon. It’s hard to hoard gold when you’re a soul-sucking monster. I’m kinda broke.”
Bel straightened. “What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me you need money? I’ll—”
“No, thanks.” Meph held up a tattooed palm. “I don’t want any handouts. If I’m gonna do the human thing, I wanna do it without any free passes, you know?”
“Meph …” Bel made a face. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re not human and you never will be. This isn’t some kind of challenge. We came here to live.”
“I know. And that’s how I want to do it.” Meph shrugged. “I’m making money selling my art. It’s kinda awesome.”
“And then you spend it all on shoes.”
“It’s my money,” he replied with a grin. “I can do what I want with it.”
Bel shook his head, but truth be told, he understood where Meph was coming from. He could imagine how it would feel to earn a living from actually doing something productive. Not just by raiding some poor fucker’s lair and stealing his hoard.
In truth, he admired his brother. Meph had been dealt a shitty hand, and now look at him. Making his own way and building a real life for himself all on his own.
“You know …” Bel took a breath, unable to believe he was actually about to say this. “If you and Iris actually want to live here … you can.” He winced, already sure he was going to regret making that offer. “Temporarily. Until you get your shit together and find something better.”
Meph froze with his cup halfway to his mouth. He set it down. “You’re serious?”
“Can’t promise I won’t lose it again,” Bel added, taking his turn at staring at the pool to avoid his brother’s gaze. “But I’ll do my best.”
“Are you sure you’d actually want us here? Wasn’t the whole point of moving to get away from everyone?”
“Yeah.” Bel blew out a breath. “You were being a dick, but you were also kinda right. Maybe being alone isn’t the answer either. I’m just as on edge after a couple weeks of living alone as I was before.”
Meph’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not just offering us a place because I told you I’m broke, are you?”
“Of course I am.”
“Well, then, no. Thanks, but no.”
“Don’t be a fucking—”
“I don’t need your pity—”
“It’s not pity,” Bel snapped, “and if you tell me I’m pitying anyone, I’ll pop your eyeballs out with a rusty spoon, then make you swallow them and chase them down with your own blood. I don’t do pity.”
Meph’s brows shot up. “Graphic. Even for you.”
“I’m serious.”
“Fine. But I told you I wanted to make my own way, and this kinda sounds like cheating to me.”
Bel smiled suddenly as an idea occurred to him. “How about this? Instead of paying rent, you can work for me.”
“Doing what?” Meph asked suspiciously.
“Cleaning the house and doing upkeep on the yard and pool. I need to hire someone, but I don’t want some human traipsing around, getting into my shit.”
“Wait. You want me to be your fucking maid?”
“Yep.” Bel’s smile was evil. “You said you don’t want any handouts. Here’s your chance to earn something in a completely human way.”
“Well, shit …” Meph slumped back in his chair and blew out a breath.
“Plus, if you want Iris to stay with your lazy ass, it’s high time you learned some basic life skills. Can’t believe she still puts up with your shit.”
Meph winced. “I’m working on it.”
“Have you ever cooked her a meal? Unlike us, she actually needs food to survive.”
He winced again. “I can order takeout.”
“Wow,” Bel deadpanned. “She must be totally impressed by your ability to use the Uber Eats app and spend all your hard-earned broke-ass artist money.”
“Fuck,” Meph groaned. “You’re relentless.”
“Just telling it like it is.”
“What about Iris? What’s she gotta do to pay her way if she lives here with me?”
“Nothing. You’ll be responsible for both of you.”
“What? Why? That’s not fair.”
“Because you’re a lazy fuck, that’s why. Life’s not fair. Deal with it. Or rent your own place that you can trash, and see how long your woman stays with you.”
Meph groaned again. “You’re brutal, man.”
Bel sipped his coffee, feeling smug. There was no way Meph would agree.
He’d made a compromise, taught his brother a lesson, and managed to continue living solo, even after trying to make changes as Sunshine had encouraged.
This way, he was absolved of all blame, and Sunshine couldn’t say he hadn’t tried—
“Fine,” Meph said, sitting up straight again. “I agree.”
Bel froze with his cup at his lips. “What?”
“I’ll do it. I’ll be your damn maid and landscaper and pool boy and whatever the hell else if Iris and I can live here.” It was Meph’s turn to look smug. “And I can tell by the look on your face that you thought I’d never actually agree, and you’d get to go back to loner living. So suck it.”
“Damn it,” Bel said.
“Which room’s mine?”
“The basement suite. Better yet, the fucking crawl space.”
“What, we can’t have the room next to yours?” Meph’s grin was evil now.
“No.” Bel set his cup down and jabbed a finger in Meph’s direction.
“And if I hear you two fucking even once, I’ll toss both your asses out the front door.
My house, my rules, got it? I want this house spotless and the yard looking like a fucking Zen garden.
No second chances. You don’t make a mess.
You don’t touch my shit. And you don’t eat my food until I say it’s ready.
And this is a temporary situation, got it? ”
“Got it, boss.”
Bel shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was agreeing to this. “When are you moving in?”
“Iris’s lease is up at the end of next month.”
“Fuck my life.”
Meph was still grinning. “You know Lily and Mist are gonna want to move in too when they get back from traveling, right? And there’s only one suite.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“They get home next week.”
“When we come to it,” Bel growled.
Suyin lay awake in bed, thinking. She’d stayed in the library for a long time after Murmur left.
So long that she heard him return from checking his wards and then lock himself in his bedroom.
She’d been immersed in reading and hadn’t stopped until her eyes were closing.
The books he’d chosen for her to study were fascinating, but she was most interested in the one he’d written himself.
Unsurprisingly, it was nearly as convoluted as The Book of Gamigin.
His penmanship was atrocious, and he often went on long tangents until she’d forgotten what the original point he was trying to make was.
But the more she read, the more she started to get a grasp of how his mind worked, and she had to admit it impressed her.
The book was packed full of information, and yet he’d told her there was an entire section of his library full of books he’d written. This was obviously only the tip of the iceberg. To say she was curious was an understatement.
And she couldn’t lie … She was curious about Murmur, too. How his mind worked. What motivated him. What he’d seen and done in his impossibly long life. Why he was half mad and a control freak. Why he was so secretive. And most of all … what the hell he was planning with that damned spell.
She was nervous about the casting, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.
Perhaps it was because she’d had access to his library for several days now and she still hadn’t found any answers to her questions.
Or perhaps it was because Murmur seemed like an unstoppable force, yet even he seemed unsure of his success. That put her on edge.
She wanted answers, and she was running out of time to get them. If the spell was successful and Murmur had his way, she’d return home without any idea what he’d done or why.
She sat up in bed suddenly, covers falling to her lap, as an idea formed.
Murmur had forbidden her from touching anything on his desk, which meant the information she sought had to be there.
And Murmur was also currently asleep—a rare occasion, from what she’d observed.
If she didn’t start taking risks, she wasn’t going to get anywhere.
She’d decided to play nice so that when her chance came to learn more about herself, she would feel secure enough to take it, trusting that he wouldn’t hurt her in retaliation.
Well, a chance had come.
She leapt out of bed before she lost her nerve, dressing in a hurry as the cool air prickled against her skin. She started to put on her boots and then changed her mind. Her footsteps would be quieter in just her socks.
She slipped out of her chambers into the stairwell and climbed the steps silently. At the top, she pushed open the door and padded down the hall, pausing outside Murmur’s bedroom and listening for signs he had awoken.
Hearing nothing, she entered the library, grateful for the quiet door that whispered shut behind her. Everything was dark, just as she’d left it when she’d blown out the lanterns and let the fire die.
She didn’t waste time. She’d come here with a purpose and knew what she was looking for. At Murmur’s desk, she studied the array of scattered papers. The first time, she’d been caught before she could learn anything, and she was hoping to remedy that now.
She already knew that flipping through The Book of Gamigin would be fruitless, so she concentrated instead on reading Murmur’s notes. She looked at his messy scrawl and grimaced. It was worse here than in the grimoire he’d written. She could barely tell if she was reading English or Sheolic.
She picked up a random sheet of paper and dropped into his chair, holding it in front of her face and trying to make sense of it. The only illumination came through the window from the red sky, and she didn’t dare light a lantern in case she was discovered.
Souls contained behind … What the hell did that say? Additional force … required? She squinted at the page. Form … portal? But that didn’t make sense.
And what souls were contained? Was he trying to get more for his army? But surely he already had a way to trap them. Maybe he’d lost his way of getting new souls somehow, and he was trying to get it back?
It might explain his obsession, since he derived much of his fearsome reputation from the ghosts who swirled at his feet. But something about that explanation didn’t ring true.
She kept reading.
“Angel blood … outer layers. Added fortification.” Angel blood? She glanced over at the sigil on the floor, the lines painted in dried blood. Where the hell would he get access to an angel? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
She skimmed over the next section, which appeared to be a list of somewhat disturbing ingredients. Pickled heart, liver, claw of winged demon, incubus semen—gross—blood of … She peered closer at the last word, trying to decipher—
A howl split the quiet.
Her spine snapped straight, and she scanned the dark library. Chills raced up her back. That terrible sound of despair had come from very close by.
Another cry echoed through the halls. It finished in a hoarse groan, and she suddenly realized she knew that voice very well.
She was out of her chair running before her next breath.