Chapter Twenty #2
I raise an eyebrow. At least I try to, but the strap across my head prevents it. “So the Cult of Hades is a bunch of demons? What about that one I saw you with in Boston?”
Waring clears his throat, looking sheepishly at the others. “Not all demons are in the Cult of Hades,” he explains.
“Are you outsourcing to demons now, Adam?” Chuck says.
“Can we move this along?” Hecate snaps, speaking for the first time. “I’d like to be able to finish out the rest of the gala.”
“Let’s get back on track.” Waring leans over to Hecate, and mutters, “Can you mute him?”
Hecate rolls her eyes. I notice she mutes the whole computer so Chuck can’t unmute himself. Smart.
Waring turns back to me. “Although you so helpfully got rid of one demon, he must have had an accomplice, because the grimoire is missing.”
The trick to not looking surprised is to keep your muscles relaxed. It’s hard with the amount of pain I’m in, but I think I manage it. This new information means either that there was, in fact, a second demon, or that the others got away with the book without being seen.
Good for them. With Ezra having already escaped, it probably wasn’t easy finding a way out once the original plan was no longer an option. But they managed it. Because you have to be able to problem-solve on a job, even and especially when the leader gets taken out of play.
Rule #36: Always know your exits.
Am I a little irked that they all got free while I’m strapped to a table under the watchful eyes of leaders from all five syndicates? Sure. But we go into every job knowing we might need to leave someone behind. Or be the one left.
“So,” I say, “you put the codex on display even though you knew there was a horde of demons trying to steal it?”
“The collective noun for demons is ‘legion,’ ” Thea says distractedly.
“My bad.”
Thea’s eyes are glazed over. I’m sure CJ’s family has intel on them, knows they lived with my family through their teenage years. But if Thea knows who I am, she doesn’t show it.
I look back at Waring. “If you didn’t want Hades to be resurrected, then why not destroy the book? You apparently have demons working for you. All it takes is a little of their hellfire.”
There’s a weighted silence after that. Finally, Waring says, “It’s not so easy.”
I hold back a smirk. There’s only one reason people don’t destroy dangerous objects, and that’s because they want to use them. The syndicates have kept the grimoire safe all these years hoping someone would eventually be able to translate it. So they could use the spells themselves.
“We want to hire you,” Waring forces out haltingly, like he regrets the words even as he’s saying them. “Find the grimoire, steal it back, and then work with us to keep it away from the Cult of Hades.”
I laugh. Because that’s what you do in the face of absurdity.
“I mean, sure, yeah. Just let me go, pay me up front, and I’ll have the book right back to you.”
Waring purses his lips, impatient. “I know you want to resurrect your brother.”
That kills my laughter pretty quick. I’d forgotten he’d mentioned my brother in Boston.
His gaze doesn’t waver. “I can tell you where he is.”
“I know where he is,” I snap.
Waring gives me a patronizing smile. “Of course, but Tartarus is a big place.”
That knocks the wind out of me. It’s one thing to have a theory that your brother’s soul is in hell. It’s another thing entirely to have it confirmed. I take a deep breath and count to five.
This is good, I tell myself. This is confirmation. I was right. And if I stay on the current path, I can get him back. Just as planned.
“I don’t need your help,” I say, my voice surprisingly steady.
Hecate lets out what can only be called a growl. “This is a waste of time. Kill her. We’ll get someone else.”
“There is no one else.” Waring bites out the words, but when he turns back to me, his face is a polite mask. “Help us and we’ll help you resurrect your brother. You’ll need us, Elle. You’re out of your depth.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Trust me,” Waring says softly. “You have no idea what you’re up against.”
Remember, kids: If someone tells you to trust them, it’s because you can’t trust them.
He stands, towering over me, staring at me with those uncanny unblinking eyes. “Take the job. You’ll get your brother back. You’ll be duly compensated. And most importantly, it’s your only way out of this room alive.”
I’ve spent the last however long scanning every part of the room I could see, subtly and systematically testing the resistance on my restraints, shifting as much as possible to see if I have any resources still in my pockets.
But I still have no plan. The best I can come up with is to agree to this, find the codex, and then manage to slip away with it.
That plan only works if there was another demon who nabbed the codex.
If it was my crew, I can’t risk leading the syndicates back to them.
The door opens, and a security guard walks in, covered head to toe in black armor, kind of like what Tolliver wore to take away Poppy and CJ.
“I told you,” Hecate snaps. “No interruptions!”
“Sorry,” the guard says, their voice distorted by the mask.
Actually, I think that’s exactly what Tolliver wore.
The guard tugs twice on his ear. In his other hand is an opaque jar, and I know what happens next, so I take the deepest breath I can.
He drops the jar.
It smashes on the floor and golden smoke starts to fill the room. For a moment, I panic, but suddenly, Ezra is beside me, placing a mask over my nose and mouth.
“Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?” My voice is still gravelly and now muffled by the mask.
Ezra pauses from undoing my bindings. “I’ve got the inches where it counts.”
“Ew! We’re not close enough for that kind of joke.”
I try to push myself up, but he has to help me to my feet.
“I meant jumping distance,” he says. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
I double over once I’m standing, but with a little effort and a lot of Ezra’s support, I get myself upright.
“I have no idea what this smoke does, so we better hurry,” he says.
“You came back,” I croak.
He rolls his eyes, dragging me toward the door. “Yeah, well. I’m the second-story man, and I’ve got a discreet exit for you.”
I get better use of my legs the farther we go, but as we hurry down the hall, Ezra’s still taking more than his fair share of my weight.
“Besides,” he says, “this is what happens when you don’t prepare for every eventuality. I came back to tell you I told you so. You are all helpless without me.”
“All?” I ask.
He sighs. “Everyone got out. With that book thing.”
It seemed too much to hope for. That the others got away and that they sent someone back for me. Not only that, but we got the grimoire. We have the resurrection spell.
We’re getting Dante back.
“Also,” Ezra says, “there’s a crow that looks like it came from Jim Henson’s nightmares. What’s up with that?”