Chapter 23 #2
A chill raced down her spine. This was not the dwelling of a normal person. It looked like the scene of the villain’s domain in a horror movie. The place where the stupid teenagers would be lured to and killed. Their blood would probably spatter over the walls dramatically in the climax.
It was a reminder that Murmur was … multifaceted. She had seen a side of him that she doubted many had. He could be playful, naughty, and oddly sweet. He could also be cold and cruel, and he slept in a murder room.
Turning back to the bed, she sat on the edge of the mattress and scooped up a stack of loose pages from the nightstand. The sketches were actually quite beautiful. He managed to capture the vibe of whatever scene or face he was drawing with a few well-placed pencil strokes.
She uncovered the next paper in the stack, and her eyes widened.
It was her.
It was so clearly her, she could have paid a professional artist to draw a portrait and not gotten a better result.
Her head was half turned, her chin lifted, which gave her a fierce, prideful look, and her eyes were subtly narrowed as if she was suspicious of the world and everyone in it. An accurate portrayal.
He had told her he’d found her because of a vision, but she hadn’t realized he’d seen her face this clearly. A sudden suspicion had her uncovering the next sketch and the next, sifting through the rest of the pile. As expected, they were all of her.
In one drawing, she was glancing over her shoulder, her hair blowing as if she was moving quickly.
In another she was reaching back to tuck her hair behind her ear, glancing sidelong at the artist. In the last one in the pile, she was running, and her heart stuttered in her chest when she realized what it was depicting.
She was rushing down a dark alley, brick walls rising on either side of her. She was stooped slightly as she ran, as if chasing something. Beneath her grasping hands was a quill scribbling illegible letters.
It was her own damn dream.
She’d forgotten about that stupid dream until now, but here was a chilling reminder of what her intuition had been trying to tell her.
She’d been chasing something she couldn’t read—knowledge, understanding—and it had led her to Murmur.
The one who had all the answers she sought.
The explanation couldn’t have been more obvious.
This whole experience was starting to feel a lot like destiny.
She shook her head. She needed to get a grip.
Putting the sketches back, she rose from the bed. There was no sign of her clothes anywhere, so she crossed the room to the tall wardrobe and pulled it open. The inside was a mess. Clothing was stuffed into every possible crevice and hung out of drawers that barely closed.
She breathed a laugh. The damned demon was walking chaos.
Opening a random drawer, she found a long, tunic-like shirt. She donned it and laughed again. It was enormous and fell to her knees. The fabric was so thin, she could see her nipples through it, and the cut in the neck was so low on her, she was in danger of falling out of it.
She shrugged. Murmur had seen her naked. There was no need for modesty now.
Exiting the bedroom, she headed toward the library. For some reason, her stomach felt fluttery. She supposed it made sense to be nervous to see Murmur after what had happened between them. This was uncharted territory for her.
When she slipped inside, the air was warm and the fire burned bright. Murmur stood by the window with a book in one hand, his head down as he read, hair falling over his face. He wore only a silken black robe, belted at the hips.
Her heart gave a little kick at the sight of him.
Then she shook herself. That was not what this was. They’d had great sex, and she no longer hated him with a burning passion, but that was as far as it was going.
He looked up, sensing her presence, and his lips curved. Setting the book on the desk, he held out a hand. “Come here, witchling.”
She crossed the room and went to him without hesitation.
To her surprise, he scooped her up and rested her against his side like she was a goddamn toddler. She would have been pissed except he held her with a hand on her ass and there was nothing remotely paternal about the way he looked at her.
“I see you helped yourself to my wardrobe,” he said, hooking a claw in the neckline of the loose shirt and taking a shameless peek inside.
She swatted his hand without any real effort. “You stole my clothes.”
His smile was wicked. “I was hoping you’d show up naked.”
“Your bedroom is freezing. And you don’t have any blankets. When was the last time you lit a fire in there?”
His smile dropped. “Never, since I moved here anyway. I try to spend as little time there as possible.”
She took a breath and said with false casualness, “Interesting decor.”
He frowned.
“The walls are … unique.”
He shut down fast, like she’d expected. She could tell he was about to change the subject, so before he could, she quickly said, “Are they all from visions?”
“Mostly, yes. And sometimes, my souls project things at me while I’m sleeping. Seeing as they were mostly the scum of the earth while they were alive, their thoughts are unpleasant, to say the least.”
“So why keep them around? Why not send them to the Nine Rings where they belong?”
“Power, Suyin.” The way he said it, he might as well have added “duh” at the end. “It’s always about power.”
She nodded, saying nothing, because she couldn’t argue with that. If she’d lived in Hell, she would have been obsessed with power too. It was likely the only way to stay safe.
They fell silent for a time, and she allowed herself to relax in his grip, though she must have looked absurd. Her hair was a mess, she was wearing the largest shirt ever made, and Murmur was holding her against his side with one arm like she weighed nothing. She probably looked like a manic doll.
And then Murmur said, “The sigil is ready.”
She stiffened and glanced at it. The last she’d seen, he’d erased an entire section. But when she looked now, she saw that he had indeed finished repainting the lines. Everything looked fresh and new. She must have been asleep for several hours for him to get that much done.
She looked at him with a frown. This was a good thing.
If the spell was successful, she could finally go home, get back to her life, and assure everyone she hadn’t been murdered.
The coven needed her. There was still so much she wanted to explore in this library, but nothing mattered more than getting back to Earth.
And yet, a moment later, she heard herself say, “You owe me an explanation. You can’t do the spell until you’ve fulfilled your end of the deal.”
You better not be stalling, Su. There’s no way you’re that stupid.
Murmur carried Suyin to the couch and sank into the worn cushions, positioning her on his lap so she straddled him.
“In answer to your question,” he said, diving right in, “allow me to first clarify that it’s not that I don’t like touch, but rather that I don’t like to be restrained.
” The sooner he got this conversation over with, the better.
“I kinda figured that,” Suyin said. “Does it bother you for me to sit like this then?”
“A little,” he answered honestly, “but I can control it.”
Her brow furrowed. “I can move.”
“Stay.”
“But—”
“I’m aware it’s not a rational response, and I can control it to an extent. And I want you here. So stay.”
“Okay.” Her soft smile did something to his insides. “So are you gonna tell me why?”
“It’s boring.”
“I somehow doubt that.”
He lifted a hand and studied his claws. “Long ago, Paimon, the former ruler of this lair, captured and imprisoned me for a decade or so. I was restrained and tortured until part of my mind fractured, and I’ve been that way ever since.
Eventually, I escaped and swore I would one day exact revenge.
And I did.” He dropped his hand. “And now, here we are.”
Suyin shook her head. “Yeah, no, that wasn’t boring.”
“It’s boring because it’s average. Find me a demon that has never been captured and tortured in his immortal life, and then I’ll be impressed.”
She snorted. “Fair enough. But it’s still pretty fucked up.”
“It was a very long time ago.”
“But you’re still affected by it.”
“As I said before, after I escaped, I allowed the memories to control me for long enough that they became part of my personality. Mortal or immortal, we are all the sum total of our experiences—on Earth or in Hell.”
She pursed her lips like she suspected he was making light of things.
But what could he say? That he was ashamed that even now, a thousand years later, he still shuddered every time his bedsheets became tangled in his legs or his clothing was too restrictive?
That he’d stabbed people just for daring to touch him?
It was a weakness, and he supposed it was only logical to want to hide it, even now when she’d forced him to expose himself.
“Why did Paimon capture you in the first place?” Suyin asked, showing once again how quick she was to get to the heart of the matter.
“I wasn’t always the loyal supporter of Lucifer that I am today.”
She blinked. “Is that a joke?”
“Yes, Suyin, it’s a joke, seeing as I am currently plotting to overthrow him at this very moment.”
She rolled her eyes. “So you’ve tried before.”
“I put my support behind another who did.”
“Who?”
“Her name is Naiamah, and she’s a Queen of—”
“Oh, I know who Naiamah is,” Suyin said. “When I lived in New York, I was friends with a group of witches who practice black magic and serve Naiamah. They were always trying to get me to join their coven.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“They’re big into male sacrifices. They like to catch creeps and sacrifice them for power rituals and shit. I’m not necessarily against killing rapists, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be the one doing it.”