7. Leah
Leah
There are no stars in Infernum. It’s the first thing I notice when I open my eyes. I’m definitely not in Strata anymore.
Shit. Bound to a table as a ritual sacrifice is now the second worst place I’ve woken up.
I pull myself up off the ground. The earth is soft and loose, despite the sharp brown rocks dotted to my left and right. As I brush the dirt from my fingers, I realize there’s no voice whispering in my head anymore. Those intense sensations—the feeling of something else occupying my body—are gone.
I’m entirely alone—inside and out. Even better, said body seems to be in one piece, though my arm stings where I got cut, and my muscles ache almost as badly as my head and stomach. I’m trying not to think about why my nightgown feels so damp beneath the stolen robe.
There’s no sun or moon here either, just like the folk tales say. Their absence from the sky drives home exactly how screwed I am, with no way back to the world I know except through the aether. And it hasn’t escaped me that the rift I came here through is definitely closed.
How long have I been unconscious?
I stare at the sky, trying to wrap my head around what I’m seeing.
The purple expanse is punctuated by sporadic flares of orange, like the reflection of flames flickering against a window at twilight.
I can’t tell if it’s night or not—does Infernum even have night the same time we do?
—only that it’s light enough to see most of the immediate landscape around me.
I’m on a plateau, a rocky outcrop with a sheer drop on either side.
I scoot cautiously over to the nearest edge, looking down to see the steep bank of a mountain ridge.
It runs down to a wide valley, dotted with more spears of rock like the one I’m on, stretching up toward the strange sky.
Wrapped around their base, sprawling across the valley floor, is a city.
A demon city. It hits me then, seeing the glow of lamps lighting thousands of buildings all crowded together. The place is crawling with creatures I’ve been warned will destroy my life or steal my soul if I’m not careful.
Infernum might not physically be the underworld of Strata, but there’s a reason people talk about it as such. If you sell your soul to a demon, everyone knows this is where you come when you…
Shit. Am I dead? It seems a very real possibility.
The demon asked me if I wanted to be free—and he did free me. Does that count as a deal? I always thought there was more involved in a demon tricking you into giving up your soul.
And you’d think if I was dead my head wouldn’t hurt nearly so much.
But if I’m not dead yet, there’s every chance I will be soon. Because I’m in a fuck ton of danger.
Forget whatever nightmare stories I’ve heard about Infernum, I’ve seen demons tear enough ephilium apart with my own eyes to know that my soft, human flesh isn’t going to fare well against any of them.
I suspect most demons won’t look kindly on my presence here, never mind that I didn’t actually choose to come.
I’m a long way from the protection of Pax’s walls and the Concords now.
Think, Leah, I tell myself, trying to breathe through the spiking fear. No one is pointing a knife at me anymore, so that’s an improvement. Things aren’t as bad as they could be. Don’t lose your head. There’s a way out of this still.
I need another rift. The slight problem is I don’t know the first thing about the runes needed to open one. But down there in that city, there must be demons coming and going from Strata all the time.
Wingers are only prohibited from fighting in Pax. They’re still free to enter the city for “peaceful” reasons, like drinking at our taverns, enjoying our music halls, or getting us to make cursed bargains when we’re down on our luck. You know, tourist stuff.
I pull the hood of the robe up around my face.
That should keep me safe from cursory glances at least. There are plenty of demons who look almost human to begin with, and they have ways to disguise themselves so it’s almost impossible to tell.
Maybe I can sneak around, find a rift, and slip through it before any demons notice me.
Definitely before whoever piggybacked in my mind on the way here decides to turn up again.
First, however, I have to get off this rock.
There looks to be a fairly straightforward route down to the city by foot. It might require a bit of climbing in parts, but I have some practice at that from scavenging.
I start to ease myself down, following the natural path created by the stone formation. I keep one hand on the rock face to steady myself. My legs don’t feel stable after being kidnapped in the middle of the night, nearly sacrificed, and dragged to another realm.
I dislodge a pebble with my foot and send it skittering down the ridge, my eyes automatically following its descent. In the same breath, a sensation prickles up my spine, like someone’s running a finger along it, and a whisper dances past my ears, slithering into my mind.
“Where exactly do you think you’re going?”
Oh no.
That low, resonant voice sounds again, though this time the words ring through the air ahead of me instead of in my head.
“Though I will say, it’s good to see coming through that rift didn’t keep you down for long. You must be stronger than you look.”
I whip my head up, taking an instinctive step back when I see a man standing on the path in front of me.
Demons are terrifying, vicious creatures, but I’ve seen that they come in all forms. And this one is undeniably beautiful.
His raven black hair falls in soft waves to his chin, framing full lips and a jaw that could be carved from the stone of this ridge.
He’s intimidatingly tall, with broad shoulders that slope into muscled arms, their toned shape visible even under the fabric of the dark clothes he’s wearing.
He looks like he could be about thirty by human standards—which of course means much older in demon ones—maybe like two hundred?
I only know it takes demons something like a hundred years to become adults.
The tunic and deep blue cloak—which contrasts strikingly with his tawny skin—are both notably old-fashioned, though look as exquisitely crafted as their owner.
It’s a clever face for a monster to wear. He’d look entirely human—not a horn or wing in sight—if it weren’t for his eyes. His pupils are ringed with a corona of scarlet, the red eating into the dark brown of his irises. They almost freeze me in place as they fix on me. Almost.
“I’m afraid there isn’t anywhere for you to run,” he says, nodding to the foot I’m edging backward.
“At least, not anywhere I can’t reach you.
” I gasp as his voice caresses the inside of my mind, not prepared for the feeling of him brushing up against my consciousness again.
He taps the side of his head with a smirk of his irritatingly perfect mouth.
“Those hooded fools left us both a parting gift. You have a back door in your mind now, and I hold the key. I can possess you anytime, in any realm.”
“Then why weren’t you there when I woke up?
” I blurt out, still slowly backing away.
If I could get away from him, then that would absolutely be my first choice.
But if he’s right about me being stuck with him, I want to get as many answers as I can.
If he’s in the mood to share, I’m more than willing to work out what defenses I might have against him.
“I can’t hold the connection if you lose consciousness,” he answers, a slight smile still playing on his lips. “But that doesn’t really help you.”
Fuck. That was the same thought I just had. Can he hear everything I’m thinking?
He takes a few steps toward me, the edges of his cloak flaring slightly. That’s when I notice the strange flicker of shadow at his back, the light not quite falling right around his shoulders.
“What is your name, human?”
The moment he stepped toward me, I could feel that same power that crackled above me in the sorcerers’ chamber.
He’s strong. And not just in the way that his broad chest and muscular frame suggest. It would be highly unlikely I could best in him a physical fight, but I have absolutely no hope of protecting myself from his magic.
I’ve got nothing to rely on other than my wits. But that’s hardly new.
“Rose,” I answer, testing something out. “Rose Radley.”
He nods, accepting the answer without question.
So I can lie to him. Which means he can’t read every thought I have. Perhaps he only hears the ones I consciously speak into whatever corner of my mind he’s lurking in.
“I imagine, Rose, that you might be wondering why I’ve brought you here.”
“To hand my soul over to your masters?” I ask, wanting to test another theory of mine.
His eyes trace my features, calculating. “It’s not mine to give.”
I exhale with relief. Sure, maybe he’s not telling the truth, but I don’t see why he’d bother deceiving me when he holds all the cards.
“I thought maybe when I asked you to free me…when I blacked out at the rift—”
“You thought you died?” His smile is back, sharp and unforgiving. “Are humans still telling that silly tale about Infernum being part of the afterlife?”
When I don’t answer, he gestures to the city below with a sweep of his hand. “You’ll find that everyone here is very much alive, Rose Radley, including you. And a soul snare needs to do more than just answer a cry for help before he gets to claim you.”
Something about the way he says those last few words makes me swallow hard.
He extends his hand toward me, his fingers beckoning impatiently. “Now come, I have a job for you.”