Chapter 36
HANG ON LIKE GRIM DEATH
MURMUR SURVEYED THE WRECKAGE OF HIS LIbrARY. The portal had torn the room apart, ripping pages out of open books and scattering his notes in every direction.
He wandered over to the window and stared out at the plains. There was no sign of the approaching legions. The fires on the mountainsides were gone. Lucifer had retreated to his territory to regroup after losing his souls.
Murmur didn’t give a shit.
He didn’t give a shit about anything—Belial, Lucifer, his precious fucking spell, and all he’d achieved to get to where he was.
He’d never stopped to imagine how he would feel once the spell was complete.
He supposed he’d thought he would finally be able to sleep.
He would finally rest, take a breath, enjoy his success.
But now that he was here, he felt worse than he had when he’d been so driven to succeed. Because now he had nothing left. He had worse than nothing, because the one thing he wanted more than anything else had forsaken him, and he didn’t blame her one bit.
How did someone move on from this? What was he supposed to do now?
A knock at the door pulled him from his heavy thoughts. “Master? Master, are you there?”
He debated ignoring the demon. His servants knew better than to enter the library, and he really wasn’t in the mood for company.
But that stupid soul-given part of him wanted to make sure the pathetic creatures who served him were at least safe from harm.
Now that his mind was clear of the screams and he’d learned what it felt like to have his figurative heart torn from his chest, he sympathized with them more than he would have in the past.
He strode across the room and flung open the door, finding one of his tower guards outside. In the past, Murmur would have threatened to skewer him for daring to come up here and disturb him. Now, however, he was just tired.
“Master!” The demon began a routine of rigorous bowing in which his nose nearly scraped the ground. “Master, Master—”
“Stop.” Murmur held up a hand. “What condition is the territory in?”
“The legions are gone, and though the High King was spotted flying toward us, he has also disappeared. Word has spread that His Unholiness is back in his territory with his legions.”
He’s regrouping. And this territory will likely be the first place he comes when he’s ready again.
“So all is quiet?”
“It appears so, Master. Thanks to your mistress’s excellent instruction, we stayed inside the castle walls, and no one was injured. The legions simply turned and left before they ever made it to the walls.”
“My mistress?”
“Yes, she told us you were performing a dangerous spell to increase your power, and that when you returned, you would be stronger than ever. And she commanded us to stay protected within the castle walls and defend them, but not to ride out and fight the legions.”
“Of course she did,” Murmur muttered.
She resurrected you even after learning you planned to sacrifice her. And she protected your servants and lair. You don’t deserve her. And she deserves far more than you could give her anyway, even if you hadn’t betrayed her.
“So are you better now, Master?” the demon asked. “We were concerned for your wellbeing.”
“I’m fine.”
“The spell worked, then? You are more powerful than before?”
More like powerless. “Something like that,” he muttered, already backing into the library to retreat behind closed doors.
“Very good, Master,” the demon said, beginning his fervent bowing once more. “We are happy to serve you and eagerly await your orders.”
“Just … go take a night off.” Murmur flicked his fingers dismissively. “There’s no need to be hovering around my tower all the time anyway. Go celebrate your victory or something. I don’t care, as long as it’s not here.”
The gargoyle’s eyes lit up like Murmur had just popped out of the chimney in a red suit with an armload of wrapped boxes. “Yes, Master! Thank you, Master!”
Murmur slammed the door and leaned his forehead against it, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing he could disappear.
He had a distant memory of feeling the tether of Suyin’s resurrection spell drawing him back to Earth. He’d felt such hope then. He’d thought he was on his way to a second chance.
But this felt like more torture. This felt like he’d died again and been damned straight to the Rings.
He straightened and spun around, crossing the room to the hellgate. On a whim, he connected it to the one he’d left in his abandoned former lair in case he needed a quick escape, and he stepped through into an empty study.
He’d occupied this lair for many long years before taking Paimon’s territory. It wasn’t a castle like his current dwelling, but more of a haunted manor. His ghosts had once stalked the halls, but now his entire territory had been deserted, littered with bones and fading necromancy wards.
He’d lived his solitary life, working toward endless goals, for as far back as his memory extended. Even before he’d set out to overthrow Lucifer, he’d been incessantly striving to amass more power and reach some new pinnacle of achievement in his necromancy practice.
He strode across the room to the cloudy windows, the foul-smelling dust of Hell stinging his nostrils.
The lair hadn’t fallen into the Abysmal Sea during Lucifer’s ground-shaking tantrum as he’d feared it would.
But as much as Murmur may have wanted to return to his lonely, lifeless existence here, he couldn’t.
He had to look after all the fucking demons who had sworn to serve him the day he’d overthrown their former mistress. No matter how badly he wanted to disappear, even die again, he had to take care of his minions, like a bunch of unwanted children.
He stared at the empty sea, feeling hopeless. In the distance, his resident kraken’s enormous tentacles shot out of the water, catching some hapless creature flying overhead, bringing it down to its gaping maw to consume.
How many hours had Murmur spent at this very window, watching the kraken fondly? Sometimes he’d captured flying demons and then released them over the water for the kraken to catch, like the beast was some sort of pet.
The monster’s tentacles waved in the air, and he stared at them, desperate for a sign. Anything to give his empty life meaning.
He’d served his purpose. He’d kicked off the war, and he’d positioned Belial to be at the head of it, whether the demon liked it or not. He’d even found a way to make the death sacrifice work without hurting Suyin—though he couldn’t undo the emotional hurt he’d caused in the process.
He was done. He had died. It would have been the perfect end to his long life. Fulfillment of all his goals and a final sacrifice for the woman he’d learned to love before he’d lost her.
But he had chosen to return to life, and he didn’t understand why. Why was he alive if his death would have been a neat little bow tied on top of his life’s work? Why was he alive if—
So you agree with me finally. You love her.
Murmur stiffened. “It appears so. Not that it makes any difference now.”
Pretty weak love you’ve got there if you’re giving up on her that easily.
He ground his teeth. Apparently, being resurrected and losing his souls hadn’t cured him of the disconnect in his mind that caused him to converse with himself. At the moment, he regretted that immensely.
“I am not—She asked me to leave. I’ve done enough harm to her. I won’t dishonor her by ignoring her wishes. She told me to go, so that’s what I did.”
I’m just saying. You wanted a purpose. Well, there it is.
“What could you possibly—” His eyes widened. “You’re saying that just because she doesn’t want me in her life doesn’t mean I should leave her unprotected.”
Precisely. She’s up on Earth, all alone, with no one watching out for her. She might have her witchy friends, but I guarantee no one will protect her the way you can.
“Yes,” he breathed. “That’s it.”
He would rebuild his soul army—No, he wouldn’t build an army.
Not yet, anyway. He needed a break from the screaming.
He was only now adjusting to the quiet. But he would entrap a few souls, just enough to form a personal guard for Suyin.
He would channel all the energy he’d once spent perfecting his spell into protecting her.
And she needed it, too. She was a Cambion, likely the only one in existence. And now that she had that information, she might tell others. And those others might betray her and tell others. Word could get out. She could be in danger.
“I’ll protect her,” he told himself and the voice in his head and the kraken out in the sea waving its tentacles. Yes, that was the sign it was trying to tell him.
Suyin might never want him again. She might never forgive him. But that didn’t matter. Because that wasn’t what love was, was it? Love was supposed to be unconditional. And since he was apparently a defective demon, he was going all-in.
If she never wanted to speak to him again, so be it. No matter what, he would make sure she was safe. That would be his new objective.
Her park stalker was back.
A week passed, and Suyin cleaned her house, and her landlord begrudgingly fixed her front door. She started shifts again at Le Repaire, assuring everyone she’d had a good trip and enjoyed her time out of the city. She didn’t have the energy to tell them where she’d really been.
Every night, she checked out the front window, looking for the unmistakable silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered man across the street. He wasn’t always there, and it became routine for her to scan the park in search of him. Then she would close the curtains, shut him out, and go to bed.
On the seventh day after Murmur left, she was walking home from Le Repaire, texting on her phone while crossing the street—not smart, she knew, but anyone who told her so could fuck right off—and she tripped, the toe of her platform boot catching on the curb when she went to step onto it.