Chapter Twenty-Three
Twenty-three
“What a pleasant surprise.”
It’s the same voice Luke and I heard from the top of the staircase. Beliar’s face boasts just as much arrogance. A grin lifts his lips as he stands. “It’s not often my sacrifices deliver themselves to my doorstep. Did you come in on the newest shipment?”
My brain whirrs, both for a response and a way out. The exit is steps away but our odds just shot way down, and they weren’t very high to begin with.
“I’m like DoorDash,” I tell Beliar, trying to stall. Krystal and the women behind me continue nudging their way toward the door. If I can keep him talking long enough for them to make it, we might still have a shot at getting out of here. “I arrive when you least expect it.”
His brows rise, clearly not understanding the reference. Good. That means whatever time he spent in my world wasn’t long. Just long enough to cause trouble.
“I don’t need a fifth sacrifice, but it couldn’t hurt,” Beliar informs me, stepping into the foyer. “You’re a fool for coming here. And fools always travel in packs, do they not?”
My mouth parts to throw another nervous quip at him, but Luke’s voice booms from the top of the stairs.
“Beliar!”
In the light of the enormous chandelier suspended overhead, I have a clearer visual of Luke’s shoulder as he descends the grand staircase. The arrow still sticks out of it, and blood soaks the entire top quarter of his jacket. His left arm hangs at his side while his right clutches the dagger.
Beliar’s grin grows. “My sacrifice and my target coming right to me? You’re spoiling me.”
“Bold of you to defy your king for your own personal gain,” Luke challenges.
“Your imbecile of a kin is no king of mine,” Beliar spits. “But an opportunity for revenge is hard to pass.”
Confusion rocks me. My gaze cuts to Luke, but his doesn’t leave Beliar.
“So it’s true then,” Luke says, resignation in his tone. “He sent you after me.”
“A questionable choice on his part,” Beliar muses. “I was planning to collect my sacrifices and off you in the process, but of course you just had to be a pain in my ass. Luring you back here worked out for the best. I fulfilled my end of the deal, and I expect to get paid handsomely for it.”
“What’s he talking about?” I ask Luke.
Beliar’s brows rise. “Oh, she doesn’t know sending me to the overworld was your brother’s elaborate way of dragging your ass back to hell? How special it is that I get to break the news.”
I did know that, but something isn’t clicking. Because Beliar used the words kin and king in the same sentence, which would mean—
“Your brother is the devil.” I stare at Luke, pulse thundering my ears. “Tell me he’s lying.”
“Usually, almost always,” Beliar boasts. “But not right now.”
“My brother”—Luke nods, finally meeting my eyes—“is the devil.”
Shock reverberates through my chest at the confirmation. “The devil,” I echo, feeling hollow.
Beliar laughs, the sound deep and pompous. “The devil. Say it again and he might just appear.”
Luke keeps his eyes on Beliar, but his hard expression flickers at my words. “This doesn’t change anything.” He inclines his head toward the women. “Remember what we’re here for.”
Despite the arrow wound, he’s as swift as ever as he crosses the foyer to attack Beliar, who expects it, twisting out of his reach and pulling a weapon that looks medieval from where it hangs on the wall. A giant axe-like thing with a curved blade. He swings it and Luke narrowly dodges him.
I’m so mad I can barely breathe. If Luke’s brother is the devil, what does that make him? Now it makes sense why he kicked Luke out. Why he could. Luke said only the devil could pardon people from hell. I hadn’t connected the dots, but I should have.
So many questions with no time for answers. But this is still a rescue mission. And it’s up to me to see it through.
Krystal and the other women have inched their way to the front door, as I hoped. With Beliar distracted, no one stops me from opening it. Together, the five of us stumble into the night.
I realize my fatal mistake too late: I forgot about the statues guarding the front.
They spin toward us at the commotion. Bows raised and arrows notched, they let them fly. I twist to avoid them. The movement throws Poppi and Madeline into Krystal and they tumble to the ground, taking the woman whose name I don’t know with them.
Dagger in hand, I lunge before the statue closest has time to ready another arrow.
I expect the blade to scrape against its stone facade, but it sinks in as if he’s made from as much flesh and blood as me.
My mouth parting with a gasp, I stare straight into his golden eyes as he explodes into shadows.
“Brie!”
The weak rasp of Krystal’s voice pulls my attention to the second statue already sporting a ready-to-fly arrow aimed at me. Before letting it rip, a fire poker beats his arm, making him falter.
Madeline stands beside him, swinging the poker with reckless abandon. Swiveling from me to her, he releases the arrow. It skewers the center of her chest, its metal tip shining red as it appears through her back.
“No!” I scream. I chuck the dagger as hard as I can. It sinks into the statue’s abdomen, clattering to the ground a moment later as he dissipates.
I dive for Madeline. She collapses to the ground at an awkward angle, legs bent under her, arms splayed, torso twisted, thanks to the arrow protruding from her back.
“Madeline.” Her name is a sob ripped from my chest. She stares at the sky, eyes blank.
“You have to go.”
Luke stands above me, framed by the swirling twilight clouds above. Pain is painted across his face as Krystal, Poppi, and the third woman cling to him. All four of them look ready to keel over.
My heart aches for Madeline. I can’t even take her body with us. Resting her head on the ground, I grab my dagger and sprint with Luke down the steps, wiping my eyes as we go.
“How could you not tell me that your brother is the devil?” I yell at him, anger fueling me forward and burning away the grief. “How—”
“I know,” he cuts me off. “I’m sorry. Just like you, I was running from my past. I didn’t know how to tell you, but I should have.”
“No shit—”
“You are not running from me!” Beliar bellows.
Luke pauses, glancing back. Beliar stands at the top of the steps, beside Madeline’s body.
He holds the menacing weapon in one hand and looks at the sky.
Glee dances in his eyes when he trains his sights back on us.
“The Reckoning is coming. My archers will return and hunt you down. I needed four for the sacrifice, and four I will get. Your hours are numbered.”
“We have to go,” I urge Luke, trudging onward through the maze of shipping containers.
“No.”
“Yes!”
Ducking behind the nearest container, he gently offloads Krystal and the other women, leaning them against the siding. Taking off his backpack, he drops it at my feet.
And then he grits his teeth and grabs the shaft of the arrow.
“What are you—”
He rips it out. Blood coats it, thick and wet. I stare at him in horror.
“How can you be so stupid?!” I screech, reaching for him as he stumbles. He evades me, barely finding his balance by pressing a bloody hand to the steel of the container. “You shouldn’t have removed the arrow. That’s what was keeping you from bleeding out!”
He shakes his head, blinking hard. “I’m not going to heal with it in.”
“You’re not going to heal like this! You needed to wait until we could rest and I could find gauze and apply pressure and—”
All the things we need to do die in my throat as he glances back in Beliar’s direction. “I have to deal with him before The Reckoning happens. If the archers come back while he’s alive, they’ll stop us. You need to leave. Follow the map to the house. You’ll be safe there.”
He’s still holding the arrow. His eyes widen at the red staining his hands, as if just now realizing what he’s done.
“Come with us,” I beg. Tears turn him blurry. “At your house back in the overworld, I said you were unmissable, just like me. But that’s not true. I’d miss you. So, please, Luke, come with us.”
“I’ll miss you, too.” His voice cracks as his bloody hand cups my cheek, forcing our gazes to lock. He’s shaking his head, as if trying to convince himself out of something.
“Come with us,” I repeat, harsher. Maybe I convinced him. His eyes are contemplating—
“Fuck it,” he breathes.
And then he kisses me.
For a heartbeat, it’s just us. The feel of his lips against mine, the desperation inside me willing him to run with us.
Even though I’m mad, even though I’m confused, even though everything is so wrong, the movement of his mouth against mine feels disastrously right.
Like everything has an explanation and will work out, as long as we can sort through it together.
But then he’s pulling away with a shudder. He drops the arrow and digs the keys to the van out of his pocket, folding my hand around them. I stare at my closed fist, belatedly recognizing the kiss for what it was: a goodbye.
“You did well, Brie,” he whispers. The same words that flooded me with emotion only a day prior. Now, with tears clogging my throat and my lips burning from his, the effect is ten times worse. “You’re almost there.”
Before I can say anything, he’s storming back toward Beliar.
Reeling, I grab the backpack and loop my arm through Krystal’s, who loops hers through Poppi’s, who holds tightly to the third woman still holding the bow like a cane.
Beliar says something to Luke, but I can’t hear it over my own panting as I drag Krystal and the others past the remaining containers to the van. Without sneaking around, it’s a much shorter distance to close. I slide the back door open, ushering them inside.
Krystal’s the last to go. She shakes in my arms as I help her up. Once she’s in, her half-lidded eyes find mine.
“Tell me this is all a bad dream,” she pleads. “Tell me we’ll wake up.”