Chapter Seventeen
Seventeen
“This way.”
I led Marcellus through the narrow hallways to my rooms, conscious of the worn wood and modest furnishings.
I had no idea what his home in Hell was like—and goodness, that was a sentence I never thought I would think—but Clarence House was decorated with all Her Majesty’s taste for opulence, and I doubted he had been in many establishments as plain as this.
We entered, and Dante immediately came to greet us, jumping up on my legs and barking. I gave him a few pets, then gestured to Marcellus. “Dante, this is the Marquis of Hell. Marcellus, this is Dante.”
The two regarded each other; then Dante gave a skeptical sniff and then a short bark before returning to his bed by the unlit fireplace.
“This is our dining room and kitchen,” I said. “Hannah does most of the cooking. I am not very skilled in the kitchen.”
“I’d like to cook for you sometime, then,” he said.
My heart fluttered.
“This,” I said, walking to the left of the fireplace and opening the door, “is my room.”
He stepped inside, and I tried to see it as he was.
My bed was pushed against the left wall, neatly made up with a faded blue coverlet.
The bedside table had a candlestick and a few books on it, and there was a rug placed on the floor.
I had a rocking chair—one of the few items I’d taken from my parents’ house when they’d moved—and an armoire that held the few gowns I owned.
A dressing table was in between the bedside table and the armoire and had a mirror and a few pieces of jewelry as well as my brush on it.
It wasn’t particularly striking, but it was comfortable, and I liked it. It felt cozy, particularly when I’d had a long day of ombudsmanning.
“It smells like you,” he observed.
I sniffed. I couldn’t smell anything myself, but then again, I wouldn’t, since I was with me all the time, and therefore my scent would be ubiquitous to me.
“I hope it’s not a bad smell,” I said.
He shook his head, moving closer to the bed. “No, it smells like vanilla and grass.”
Hmm. That didn’t sound bad at all.
He picked up one of the books. “Frankenstein?” He looked at me. “Don’t you deal with enough monsters during your working hours?” He had an almost rueful tone; it felt as if he was revealing a vulnerability he hadn’t before. As though he thought he himself was a monster.
“I don’t think any of the beings I work with are monsters,” I replied firmly. “And the book isn’t really about that, I don’t think. It’s more general, in my opinion. And it’s very well written, so it’s just a pleasure to read.”
He nodded, then put the book back down, turning his attention to my dressing table. “I see you have a few necklaces, but you only ever wear that one.”
My fingers flew to the locket around my neck.
“That’s because this is special. It’s only in case of absolute emergency, but it will disable any nonhuman within six feet of it.
It contains a special mixture of sulfur, holy water, salt, and garlic.
The case is silver. I’ve only had to use it a few times, but it was quite effective. ”
“Ah,” he said. “I was wondering if you had any more protection than that cane.”
“A bit more, yes,” I said. “Though I don’t usually talk about it.” Because then some miscreant might take it with the goal of causing harm. But I figured a demon would have far more effective ways of doing that, so I didn’t need to be precious about it.
And besides, he would have had plenty of chances to do me harm, and he had done nothing but the opposite thus far. Plus there was the whole pesky “I’ve fallen in love with him, God damn it” aspect, so I couldn’t really pretend there was anything to keep secret anymore.
Except that. I could not tell him about that.
He continued moving about the room, his expression making it look as though he was cataloguing everything. I stood awkwardly in the middle, wondering just what it was he was interested in.
“Your rooms—are they typical for a Londoner?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I suppose; some families live in lodgings much larger than this. The other residents here have similar rooms. People like the Duke of Astelwyth are just one person and live in houses as big as Clarence House. Why do you ask?”
He nodded, as though I was confirming something he thought. “We don’t have these types of living arrangements in Hell,” he said. “It can be difficult to find privacy.” He met my gaze, the amber in his eyes glowing especially bright. “I long for that. Privacy, I mean.”
I felt an ache inside at his words. He hadn’t revealed much vulnerability up to now, but it felt as though he was opening himself up to me.
It felt more intimate than the intimate things we’d done—likely because it was clear those things were more common with him, whereas sharing confidences was probably exceedingly rare.
“I do too,” I admitted. “Though I wouldn’t want absolute privacy.
” I thought of some of the beings I’d met, like dragons who still insisted on living in caves, or trolls who resided under bridges.
Alone, and not at all interested in changing that.
“I am fortunate to have such good friends in Miss Wright and Miss Green. We understand how each other is, and we aren’t intrusive.
” I thought of Lily’s and Hannah’s probing questions.
“Well, not more intrusive than very good friends are,” I amended.
“You are fortunate.”
I gestured to the rocking chair, while I perched on the bed. “Do you have any such friends in Hell?” I asked.
He sat, then laced his fingers together and looked down at the floor before answering.
“Not really. It’s an odd position to be in, being the son of the Devil.
I’ve got power, power second to only one, but that means I have an unfair advantage over everyone else.
And in Hell, the balance of power is all. ”
“Here too,” I said ruefully.
“I’ve noticed,” he replied in a dry tone.
“Speaking of which,” I said, “I’m more convinced that the goal is chaos. Specifically, chaos caused by provoking an irreparable rift between London and Hell. Who does that benefit?”
He leaned back in the rocking chair, his expression shifting to surprise when the chair moved.
“Have you never been in a rocking chair before?” I asked, laughing.
“No,” he said, tentatively rocking some more. “It’s an odd sensation.”
“Very soothing, I find,” I replied.
He knit his brows together as he rocked. “I can see that. Conducive to thinking. What were you saying?”
“Who benefits if the Devil and the Queen have a falling-out?”
“Anyone who isn’t the Devil or the Queen?”
I glared at him. “Well, obviously. But what would be the far-reaching consequences?”
He shrugged, spreading his hands out in a wide gesture. “Chaos is its own consequence, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter what happens as long as there is disruption.”
I considered it. “Hmm,” I said slowly. “I see what you mean. The goal isn’t the goal, per se, but the disruption. So whomever is behind this is just causing trouble?” I frowned. “In which case it could be literally anybody. Including the Devil and the Queen.”
“Well, I promise you it’s not my father,” Marcellus said. “He’s far too lazy to think of something like this. And he’d never want to look vulnerable.”
“I don’t think it’s the Queen either. She would just have to drain a few people to get her point across, not do anything nefarious.”
“So we can cross two suspects off our list,” he said with a wry smile. “And it’s not you or me,” he continued.
“We’re making excellent progress,” I remarked. “Now we’ve got four nonsuspects.”
He grinned. “We only need to rule out another hundred or so beings, and we’ll figure it all out. We can do that in a week, can’t we?”
The reminder, again, that he would be leaving struck hard, and I worked to keep my expression neutral. I didn’t want him to know the extent of my distress at his upcoming departure.
“What is it?” he asked.
So much for neutrality.
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “Just contemplating how many more London attractions we’ll be seeing in the next seven days is all.”
He exhaled. “He hates being bored. When he’s bored…well, you remember the black death? He was very bored that month. He was even more delighted when the whole thing lasted for years after.”
My eyes widened. “That was him?”
He nodded.
I shuddered.
“I should get going,” he said, rising from the chair. “We’ll lay everything out tomorrow—my father will be busy with Jirzinar until the afternoon.”
I didn’t want to ask with what. Probably better I didn’t know.
“Yes, of course,” I said, getting up as well.
He grasped me by the shoulders and stared down into my eyes. His long, inky-black lashes framed the gold. “I am going to kiss you now, Cora,” he said.
“Yes, you are,” I said, tilting my face up.
He smiled, then put his mouth to mine.
I knew by now that he didn’t have to exert any of his power to make me kiss him. Actually, I wanted to kiss him most of the time, an aching want that didn’t ebb, regardless of what I was doing.
Darning my stockings? Wanting to kiss Marcellus.
Taking Dante for a walk? Wanting to kiss Marcellus.
Drinking a cup of tea? Remarkably, still wanting to kiss Marcellus.
I slid my tongue into his mouth, gently teasing his.
His hands were now at my waist, holding me tight against him.
I put my left hand on top of his, dragging it up my torso to my breast. He growled, low and deep in his throat, and then began to caress me, his clever fingers unerringly finding my erect nipple through the layers of fabric.
Then he moved his mouth to my neck, his hot breath on my skin as he held me close and continued to torture me—exquisitely, of course—with his touch.
I knew my bed was directly behind us, but I also knew I didn’t have any protection, and I had no idea about demon reproduction, so I didn’t want to risk anything until I learned more.
And then, I promised myself, I would risk everything.
Meanwhile, he’d reached to where my neck met my shoulders, and he bit me, gently, and I moaned. My whole body ached for his, so it was a good thing I was intelligent enough to be aware of the consequences, because otherwise I would be begging for him right now.
“We should stop,” I said, even though by now my hand had made its way to his ass and was gripping it, feeling the hard muscles under the round shape.
“Yes, I can tell you want to,” he said with a chuckle.
“Well,” I replied, “I don’t want to, but we should. We’ve got things to do, and this isn’t one of them at the moment.”
He drew back, and I felt the loss immediately. “Why not?”
It was a simple question.
“It’s not the right time,” I said, my voice sounding unconvincing even to my own ears.
He gave me a skeptical look. “But I’m here, and you’re here, and your bed is just over there. I fail to see the problem.” He narrowed his gaze at me.
I exhaled. “Of course you don’t, which is where the problem lies.
You’re a demon, with demonic morality. I am a human, with human morality.
These two things are different. I don’t want to do something where I am uncertain of the consequences, especially something like this—” I said, gesturing to my bed.
“And while this is undoubtedly fun”—at which point I reluctantly let go of his ass; I didn’t want to be a complete hypocrite—“I think we both need rest so we can figure out who wants to destroy the fragile peace we’ve worked so hard to achieve.
I don’t want chaos to ensue just because you are so pretty. ”
One corner of his mouth curled into a wry smile. “Thank you. You do know we are both adults? That we can make decisions without worrying about any kind of morality? As long as we agree it is all right between us, why is there any need for outside morality?”
Well, at least with the discussion turning philosophical, I wasn’t quite so ready to leap on him, so there was a benefit to all this, I supposed.
“I don’t wish to.”
His lips thinned. “That’s all you need to say, then. I’ll take my leave.”
I put my hand on his arm just as he was about to turn. “No, it’s not that I don’t wish to, it’s—”
“I don’t understand you,” he interrupted. “First it’s yes, then no, then yes again. Is this a human thing? I have never been with a human.”
It shouldn’t have, but it pleased me that I would be his first…human. When it happened, I meant. Because I knew it would happen eventually, just not tonight.
If he wasn’t a pettish idiot. Which, since he was male in appearance, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t be.
“Look,” I said, taking his hand in mine. “It is not that I don’t wish to. It is that now is not the right time. We both need to focus—we can’t be too distracted.”
His expression cleared. “Ah, so it’s not that you don’t wish to. It’s that you are concerned the experience might be so exhilarating we will forget our mission.” He gave me a smug look. “I can understand that.”
I rolled my eyes as I nudged him toward the door. “Yes, that. You will be so tremendous I won’t be able to focus on anything else.” I gave him another gentle push. “I will see you tomorrow. We can review everything we know then.”
“Good night, Cora.”
“Good night, Marcellus,” I replied, shutting the door after him.
I sighed as soon as I heard the outer door close. That might have been one of the most difficult things I’d ever done, but I couldn’t jeopardize my job, my way of life, and my future for a night in bed with him.
Though I was sorely tempted.