Chapter 11 The Weapon of Hope #2
The word should not have interested me, as breaches were dealt with swiftly and without much incident.
Their outcomes were rarely memorable. My domain was layered in safeguards, wards woven through the very stone of the building.
Blood-bound thresholds designed to turn away those who did not belong.
Most never made it past the outer limits.
“And yet,” I replied, already knowing there was more.
“You stand before me, making me question why it is not my head of security that does so in your place,” I pointed out, this time granting him a look, one he felt making him shiver before lowering his head.
“Yes, my lord.”
He did not elaborate immediately, and I allowed the silence to stretch, watching the way it settled into the space between us. Vor had always understood the value of restraint. When he spoke again, it was with careful precision.
“A human entered the club.”
Now that certainly drew my interest.
“A human,” I repeated, my voice neutral, though something subtle shifted beneath it. Mortals did not simply wander into my domain by accident, not without invitation or intent.
“And?”
“She claims to have summoned a bound creature,” Vor paused before continuing.
“According to Torin, she spoke of a goblin.”
The word landed with more weight than it should have.
Not because of the creature itself, but because of the human…
a girl. Because of the thought I had just dismissed moments earlier.
I remained still, my expression unreadable, despite how my thoughts ignited, and I did the very thing I told myself I wouldn’t be foolish enough to do… Fucking hope.
But I also understood why now it was Vor who was informing me of this. As it was clear the moment Torin had found himself faced with a mortal claiming to have with her the presence of a Supernatural… well, there was only one way to be sure she was speaking the truth.
“And you found no trace of it?” I asked, assuming as much given his tone.
“No, my lord,” he replied, and I leaned back slightly against the throne, fingers resting idly along the arm of bone, carved with sigils older than the city of Hell that once housed them.
Vor’s blindness did not hinder him in the ways mortals assumed. He did not see life as flesh and movement, but as presence. As a distortion against the veil. Supernatural beings cast shadows he could feel, a weight that pressed against his senses.
Mortals did not.
“And this breach?” I asked, holding back a malevolent grin I could feel trying to emerge.
“She was able to slip past me,” he admitted, no doubt expecting my wrath. The admission did not come easily, though there was no shame in it. If anything, it made the situation even more curious.
“I see,” I replied, and when he started to apologize, I sent a wave of ease rippling toward him before my words followed. “No need, Vor, but I am intrigued. What else was spoken?”
“Torin knows more, but as for the summoning she spoke of, this wasn’t something I couldn’t detect as I should have.”
I frowned at his choice of words.
“I feel as if there is a but coming.”
I heard him sigh ever so slightly before admitting,
“I did feel something, but it was not what I would have expected.”
“And that was?”
“The lingering of a spell… a very powerful spell, my lord.”
I raised a brow at that, his words only adding weight to my theory. Another layer for my hopefulness to bury me under.
I considered his words, my gaze drifting briefly toward the club below, where music continued to thrum as if nothing were amiss. A human who could summon, even unintentionally, should not have escaped Torin’s notice so cleanly.
“Where is she now?” I asked.
Vor’s head turned slightly, as though listening to something beyond the physical plane.
“She moved deeper into the club before Torin, or I could track her further.” Now that should not have been possible.
“The altar,” I said. Not a question, at this point, or they would have found her before then.
But there were many hidden passageways that branched off from the main entrance, if you knew where to look for them. As she would have no doubt gathered by now, the outer shell of this building was nothing but a ruse, designed to conceal the truth that waited beyond it.
But it seemed as though she had been drawn to the club… perhaps subconsciously to… to me.
“Yes,” Vor confirmed.
“She should not have passed it,” I stated firmly. A ripple of interest stirring within me. The altar was old magic, blood-bound and unforgiving, designed to halt intruders long before they reached the inner levels. Those unwelcome did not cross it, and mortal life was at the top of that list.
“She did,” Vor said again, quietly, and I stilled completely.
“Then she is no ordinary human,” I replied, more to myself than to my necromancer. My thoughts turned once more to coincidence, to timing, to a name that refused to loosen its hold.
“Have Torin report to me.”
“At once, my lord.” Vor inclined his head and stepped back, already withdrawing from the conversation as his role concluded. He had delivered the information. What followed would not concern him.
As he turned away, my attention shifted downward, toward the heart of the club, where the pulse of life and magic converged. Whoever she was, whatever had carried her past wards that should have stopped her cold, she had just made herself interesting.
And I did not care for coincidences.
I cared for facts.
And foolishly, right now…
I also cared for hope.