Chapter 31
RED LETTER
SUYIN SAT UP STRAIGHT, FOLLOWING THE BLOOD DROPS with her gaze until they disappeared into the smoky gloom. They seemed to lead toward the far wall of bookshelves.
She stood and followed the trail. It led her all the way to the back of the room, stopping in the center of a long line of towering shelves.
She scanned the books, first peering at her own height and then crouching down and looking lower. And then, using the shelves like the rungs of a ladder, she climbed up a couple of rows and scanned the books there too. Nothing jumped out at her.
As she was climbing down, she saw it.
A tiny piece of paper, stuck to the side of a nondescript book spine. The paper said, Suyin.
Her heart leapt into her throat, and she stared at the book. At the top of the spine was a very small sigil that could have just been a decoration on the cover.
But she didn’t think it was.
Jumping off the shelves, she pulled out the knife holstered at her hip and used the sharp tip to prick her finger. Then, sheathing the blade, she climbed back up the shelves and pressed the drop of blood into the sigil.
Immediately, the entire shelf lurched.
With a yelp, she tightened her grip on the shelves, and only her quick reflexes kept her from toppling onto her back.
The entire shelf unlatched and shifted open. A hidden door. Of course there was a hidden door in here. Why was she even surprised?
She jumped off the shelves again, sucked the blood off her fingertip, and then gripped the edge of the big shelf and hauled it the rest of the way open. It was stiff and took a lot of strength, but she finally pulled it wide enough to slip through.
It was pitch-black inside, so she pulled out her phone and switched on the flashlight. Her battery was precariously low though it had been fully charged before she left. Unsurprising—hellgate travel always messed with electronics, and being in Hell probably did too.
The light illuminated a small table with a big stack of books, maybe a dozen or more. There wasn’t much space in here for more, and she figured it was more of a hiding place for valuables than any kind of room.
The books were old grimoires, their covers worn and faded. On top was a folded piece of paper. Holding her phone up with one hand, she smoothed it open with the other, her heart racing when she saw her name at the top, written in Murmur’s familiar scrawl.
Suyin,
The contents of my library are yours. I can think of no other I would give them to. What that says about me, I’m not sure I don’t care. Take whatever you want, but the books in this stack are the most valuable in my collection. I want you to have them. Left here, they will fall into unworthy hands.
I couldn’t do it. I guess it doesn’t matter why anymore.
She read and reread the note several times, each time trying to convince herself it didn’t mean what she thought it meant. But each time, she only grew more certain it did. Her heart sank deeper and deeper until it felt like it plummeted out the bottom of her.
She picked up her stack of books and slipped out of the dark room, using her back to push the door shut. Placing the books and her note carefully on Murmur’s desk, she approached his still form. She moved slowly as if dreading what she was going to find, though she already knew what it would be.
He hadn’t moved. His wounds hadn’t closed. He wasn’t healing and regenerating.
“Why?” she whispered, staring at his features. Demons couldn’t die without hellfire. It couldn’t be possible.
I couldn’t do it. He was talking about the mark.
“I don’t forgive you,” she tried to whisper, but the words caught in her throat.
A banging on the library doors startled her, and her head snapped up.
“Master!” a muffled voice shouted.
Her eyes widened. Murmur’s subjects couldn’t know he was … indisposed. She was certain any kind of weakness would send the entire castle into a frenzy. And then there were the fires on the plains.
“Master, the defense wards are down, and the legions draw closer! I know we’re not to disturb you, but we must know what to do.”
She scrambled to her feet, racing over to the window and peering out over the territory below. The fires in the distance were demons. And not just any demons. Legions—armies. And they were approaching Murmur’s lair.
“Fuck,” she breathed. This was not her problem. She needed to get out of here. But …
She spun around and stared at Murmur. She wasn’t leaving him. Surely he wasn’t actually dead, and she couldn’t leave him here in the middle of an approaching battle. She’d go back to being angry once this was over.
“Master, are you here? I know we aren’t to disturb you in your tower, but I will come in to make sure you’re okay if you don’t respond!”
Mind made up in a flash, she ran across the room to the door, and then cracked it open, giving thanks that she’d somehow managed to hold on to her altered form this whole time. With her creepy eyes and claws, the visitor wouldn’t realize she was half human.
Outside, a short, red-skinned demon with stubby horns and leathery wings wrung his hands nervously. He stared up at her in obvious surprise. That made sense. She wasn’t supposed to be here. No one was supposed to be here.
“Where is the master?” the demon asked, leaning as if trying to peer around her shoulder.
“He’s … busy,” she said, still racking her brain for a way out of this.
“I must speak with him,” the demon said. “It’s urgent. The territory is under attack.”
She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out how much to give away and how loyal Murmur’s subjects were to him. Did they hate him for his obvious neglect? Were they bored and wished he sent them out warring?
Then she figured she’d just ask him outright. “How loyal are you to Murmur?”
The demon’s eyes bugged. Immediately, he looked nervous. “Very loyal. Extremely loyal. The most loyal.”
Okay, he was probably mostly afraid of being impaled if he answered wrong, and she didn’t blame him.
“Do you prefer him as a master to Paimon?” Murmur had told her that Paimon’s subjects had automatically become his as soon as he took over her territory.
The demon nodded empathically. “Oh yes, our master is the greatest master.”
“You don’t wish you were out … fighting? You know, conquering new territories and shit?”
“No, no.” The demon waved his hands, and this time she had the sense that his response was genuine.
“We’re tired of fighting. All we ever do is fight, fight, fight, for centuries.
But we’re tired. We want to rest. Master doesn’t make us fight.
Master lets us stay here. As long as we obey his rules and leave him alone in his tower, he doesn’t hurt us, he doesn’t make us battle, and he doesn’t feed us to the goraths for sport. We are very loyal to Master.”
Weren’t demons supposed to love fighting, for the sole fact that they were demons? Wasn’t violence and bloodshed supposed to be the entire purpose of their existence? And yet, these demons were tired and wanted to rest. They were grateful Murmur neglected them.
She would never have believed it before she’d spent time here herself, but now … the idea of demons who just wanted to be left alone didn’t seem so outlandish.
She took a breath and decided to trust this little red fucker.
“Listen closely,” she said, and immediately the demon leaned in. “Murmur has performed a very difficult spell to … increase his power. So he’ll be twice as strong as he was before.”
The demon’s eyes widened. That was a crock of shit, but she wasn’t about to let word get out about what had really happened. And Murmur could thank her later for boosting morale with his subjects. Because he’s not dead. It’s not possible.
“But because of this spell,” she went on, lying through her teeth, “he’s indisposed while he recovers. He left me in charge in his absence.”
The demon nodded. “You are his consort, the only one to ever receive gifts from the Master and be allowed within his treasured library. This is wise. The Master always has a plan.”
His what now?
“What should we do?” the demon asked. “The boundary wards are down, and enemy legions are running freely across the plains.”
“Just …” She wasn’t a demonic battle general.
This was way outside her pay grade. Still, the demon said he didn’t want to fight anymore, so she’d go with that.
“Stay inside the lair where it’s safe. Organize your defenses and protect the castle, but don’t bother charging out to meet them. You’ll be exposed out on the plains.”
“Yes, mistress. Thank you, mistress.” He bowed.
“Whatever happens, don’t let anyone come up here. No one can disturb Murmur’s tower, okay?”
“Yes, Mistress.” The demon hurried away to fulfill her orders, and she slammed the door, leaning against it to catch her breath.
This was so fucked up, but she had her priorities. And as much as that awkward little demon had suddenly made her care about the state of Murmur’s territory, she had to take care of herself first.
She locked the door behind her, knowing it wasn’t going to keep out any real intruders. Murmur had given her his entire library, and she was taking the responsibility seriously. Even though he’s not dead.
As such, she found a piece of chalk and spent several minutes drawing a ward on the back of the door. Murmur would probably be able to break it with ease, but regular lesser demons wouldn’t, and it was better than nothing.
Then she went back to his prone body, crouched down and hooked her arms under his, and tried to drag him.
In a low squat, she managed to move him halfway to the hellgate before she had to stop and rest. She was strong, but damn, he was heavy. How much did seven feet of solid-boned demon weigh? Bastard was going to throw her back out.