16 A SNOWBALL’S CHANCE IN HELL #2
The rest of the room was in equal disarray.
There were stray garments tossed haphazardly about, and there were deep claw marks torn in the bed canopy.
When she squinted, she could discern frantic writings on the walls, interspersed with incomplete sigils, and haunting, abstract faces. The sight sent a chill down her spine.
Thankfully, there was no one within, and she backed out and closed the door behind her. The bedroom gave her the creeps, and she was now certain she hadn’t come to the right place—and may have in fact come to the very wrong place.
She decided to try the second set of doors just in case.
She pushed one open with care, exhaling in relief when the hinges didn’t squeak. That relief died when she peered into the dark room.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, so tall there were ladders placed throughout to reach the upper levels. Any remaining wall space was covered in sigils. Dried herbs, unidentifiable organs, and all manner of grisly things hung by strings or were stored in jars on shelves.
A table next to the window was riddled with crumpled parchment, all covered in illegible scribbling. Beside it, a hell-gate was drawn on the floor, the outer line clearly disrupted to render it inactive.
In the center of the floor was the strangest sigil Sunshine had ever seen. The patterns within were so unfamiliar, she couldn’t recognize a single one.
But that wasn’t what caught her eye. In fact, she barely spared the room a glance.
Facing that strange sigil, positioned off to one side, was another table. Seated at it, slumped forward with his cheek resting on folded arms … was the Necromancer himself. Sound asleep.
His skin was a ghastly pale gray, and the shadows around his closed eyes were so dark they looked like black bruises. Even his lips were whitish with only the faintest hint of color. She might have assumed him dead if not for the steady rise and fall of his ribcage.
His hair was silvery white and wound into a loose braid that had slipped over one shoulder to lay over his arms. Black horns swept back along his skull, curving up to sharp points above his head. His brow was furrowed, and the look on his face indicated his sleep was not restful.
Even sitting, it was obvious he was lean and tall, and the curve of his spine where he leaned over was strangely graceful. A long, barbed tail curled around the base of the chair he sat on, the end twitching slightly.
Sunshine had inadvertently wandered straight into Murmur’s personal chambers and caught him napping in this … What was this place? A workshop? Perhaps this was where he practiced the necromancy he was so masterful at.
That was when she noticed the book.
The book.
She hadn’t known what it looked like. She had never seen it before and had nothing to go on beyond a brief description given by Adriel. Yet somehow she knew with certainty that she was looking right at it.
It was there— right there —on the desk where Murmur slept. One of his arms lay half over it, as if he’d slumped forward in the midst of reading.
She could take it right now. She could creep forward and slip it out from beneath his grasp. There was even a hellgate, not ten feet away. All she’d need to do was complete the broken line, activate it, and she’d be gone in seconds.
Her mission would be complete. She would reascend. Her penance would finally be paid after all these centuries.
But she would have left Raum behind.
In the end, there was no question. She was fully aware she might never get such a chance again, but she simply couldn’t do it.
She was just beginning to back out of the room when, as if to illustrate the permanence of her choice, Murmur suddenly awoke.
He mumbled something incoherent and then jerked upright, head snapping in her direction.
She froze as he stared right at her, unsure if her heart was pounding or if it had stopped altogether.
His eyes were horribly bloodshot, his irises a blue so pale it was almost white, and the tiny prick of his black pupils looked unearthly against the unusual color. The dark shadows around his eyes, the sickly paleness of his skin … He was uncanny to behold.
“I specifically stated I was not to be disturbed,” he growled, but it came out slurred as if he wasn’t yet fully conscious. He flexed his claws, digging the long black tips into the desk. “And you dare to walk into my private chambers?”
He thinks I’m one of his servants. But of course he did. She was hidden by her cloak, and because of the amulet, he wasn’t aware his territory had been breached. And he was likely still half asleep.
“Get out!” he roared, so she turned and fled.
After fleeing the tower, Sunshine snuck around the shadowy corners of the castle for another hour until she finally struck gold.
It seemed the demons had given up angel hunting, because more began to fill the halls of the lair, making it harder for her to find suitable hiding places.
She overheard several heated debates over whether to tell their master they’d seen an angel in his territory after he’d given orders not to be disturbed.
While she was sure that was something Murmur would want to know, it seemed their fear of being impaled on the turrets was enough to make them second-guess their logic.
Her luck came while she was hidden behind a statue of a dragon chewing on a severed limb.
“You’re late relieving the guards on the prisoner,” one demon shouted at another as he hurried past.
From her hiding place, she could peek over the statue’s wing tip, and she watched a pair of gargoyles rushing down the passage. They’d been stopped by a group going the opposite direction.
“Shut yer face,” was the tardy demon’s response, and that was the entirety of the conversation. But it was more than enough. “The prisoner” could only mean one thing.
She waited until the group passed and then made her move, inching out of the alcove and hurrying after the guards, her hood so low she could barely see.
They led her through a maze of passages, and she quickly forgave herself for not finding the way to the dungeons sooner. The castle was a labyrinth.
Once they took a set of twisting stairs belowground, the halls turned into rough-hewn tunnels with jagged low ceilings. After another minute or so, they reached a barred gate across the tunnel, currently resting open.
While Sunshine ducked into a crevice to hide, the gargoyles she’d followed were chastised by those they’d been sent to relieve. Quietly, she unsheathed one of her blades, pressed her back into the stone, and waited for her moment. Two demons she could handle, but four was more of a risk.
But if the dungeon guards were changing, that meant the original two would be coming this way, where they would surely spot her. If she faced them, the other two would hear the fight, giving them time to gather defenses and potentially call for help.
Until now, she’d managed to avoid any combat situations. If she had her way, she would never have to draw a weapon at all. But for Raum’s sake, she would not allow herself to be ruled by her fear of the past.
She unsheathed her second blade.
And then she stepped out from around the corner and rushed the bickering guards before she had a chance to stop herself.
She stabbed the first two demons in the sides of their necks simultaneously. Then she jerked her knives free and tossed one blade and then the other into the eyeballs of the other two.
Hands free, she turned to the first demon she’d stabbed, gripped his horned skull, and snapped his neck. She spun around with a high kick to knock back the second when he tried to grab her, and then she caught his head before he fell and snapped his neck too.
The other two were gathering their wits despite the blades protruding from their eye sockets, but they weren’t fast enough. She lunged forward, pulled her knives free with a jerk, and then swept both her arms out, drawing the razor-edged blades across their throats.
They hit the ground at the same time and bled out together.
Lowering her arms, she straightened, heart pumping at double speed. She felt … invigorated. Empowered.
She smiled. And then she stepped over the bodies and hurried down the tunnel to find Raum.