Chapter 11 Delilah
Chapter eleven
Delilah
The place was immaculate, expertly designed and expensively outfitted. It was a far cry from the two-bedroom attic apartment Heidi and I had most recently called home, that was for sure.
As soon as we’d crossed the threshold, with Mal closing and locking the door behind us, the leash had disappeared, the connection to Archer vanishing in a blink.
The collar, however, remained.
Pandora wiggled urgently, clearly wanting to look around, so I released her from her pouch, holding her gently as she took in our new surroundings.
The main floor was long and narrow, as I assumed all brownstones would be. Natural woods and cream-painted walls gave warmth to the space that I would have never expected from the home of a demon.
Although, it wasn’t like I had expected skeletons and torture devices, either.
The truth was, Archer and the guys defied everything I’d ever been told about their kind. Witches and demons were mortal enemies—had been for a long time. I’d been raised to hate and fear them, blindly, and I had. But the time I’d spent in their presence was starting to change my perception.
Vine, with his hilarious antics and ineffable humor keeping things light. Corson, always so stoic and steady. I could tell he was a reliable friend to have in your corner. Mal, taciturn maybe, but visibly kind beneath it all.
Even Archer, the leader of their band of misfits, had shown compassion, choosing to leave the morgue rather than push a confrontation with the human workers which would have only resulted in their deaths.
Or worse.
At every turn, these men had surprised me, and I was left wondering what else my education at the hands of other witches had lacked.
“Come on through to the kitchen,” Vine called, already disappearing down the narrow corridor. I found him there, head in the fridge, moving items around as he dug in the back for something. “Don’t have any bugs for her, but I think there’s some frozen bananas. Maybe.”
“She’s fine,” I said, suddenly uncomfortable with Vine’s amiable behavior. “I’ll figure something out.”
“No way.” Closing the fridge, he turned to me, shaking his head. “She needs to eat.” Vine looked at Pandora, his brows drawn down in a frown. “She’s pretty small for a familiar, isn’t she?”
“She’s perfect,” I said defensively as Pandora gave an indignant huff.
“Well, you had to have a plan for her before we crashed your party. What were you gonna feed her?”
“My bags had—” I started, but paused when the others entered the room, their presence sending a chill across my skin, as though someone had lowered the temperature by five degrees in an instant.
Mal wasted no time, moving right past me and heading for the door that led to a back patio. Once he was out there, staring at the heavy gray sky, he seemed to relax, throwing his head back and just breathing.
Corson took up a position near the window, arms crossed, his body angled just enough so that he could keep an eye on the inside of the house and watch the street below at the same time.
Archer was last to enter the kitchen, pausing at the door to assess everyone, their positions, and if I wasn’t mistaken, their frame of mind. He looked at each of them, his gaze fiery and probing, landing on me last.
I could feel it, the weight of his attention sitting heavy on my shoulders, and the collar responded. As soon as Archer’s eyes met mine, the collar fluttered and pulsed, the ethereal sensation making my stomach swoop like I’d just been thrust through another of his strange portals.
I bit my lip to keep from sighing at the sensation.
Once he was satisfied that everyone was where they should be, he gave a stiff nod and headed for the counter, pressing buttons on what looked to be the world’s fanciest coffee machine.
“Espresso?” he asked, looking at me over his shoulder with one eyebrow raised.
“Uh, no. Thank you.”
No one spoke while Archer went through the motions, the machine loud as he made his hilariously small cup of coffee.
Once he was finished, he turned, rested his behind against the counter, lifted the tiny cup and saucer to his mouth and took a sip.
I watched him, knowing it was wise to keep my eyes on the predator in a situation like this, and anyone could tell that Archer was the most dangerous predator in the room.
When he was finished, he set the cup aside, withdrew the letter from where he’d stored it in his jacket, and stared at the wax seal once more before looking at me sternly.
“Now, I’ll ask again. This letter is addressed to Delilah. Do you know her?”
“Yes,” I said, knowing I had no option but to tell the truth.
I needed help; it was clear as day that the situation Heidi had expected me to find in New York was not at all what I’d actually found. If I was going to survive—something I very much wanted to do—it was highly unlikely I’d do it alone.
And while my options were limited, I hoped that choosing to side with Archer and his men would be better than trying to go it alone against the Order.
The devil you know, right?
“I’m Delilah.”
“Plot twist!” Vine howled, rubbing his hands together like a TV villain, but everyone else ignored him.
“You’re Delilah?” Archer questioned, those dark eyes narrowed.
“Yes.”
“Named after the great betrayer,” Archer said, his tone both caustic and dismissive. “How apropos.”
“I’d like to read my letter please,” I said, ignoring his insult and holding my hand out expectantly.
“Your letter?” Once again, that imperious eyebrow arched and he stared at me incredulously.
“Yes. It has my name on it, after all. And you wouldn’t even have the letter if it wasn’t for my help. So, if you please, I’d like to read it.”
I waited, hoping my face didn’t show how nervous I truly was, standing there, making demands of Archer in his own home.
“Alright,” he said after a moment of contemplation. “But should you double cross me...should you even think about double crossing me, you won’t live long enough to regret it, witch.”
At my throat, the collar twitched, seeming almost agitated, and I reached up unconsciously to pet it, stroking it gently until it settled again.
Strange.
Why did it seem like the collar—the collar Archer made for me with his own dark magic—had been offended on my behalf?
The more I thought about it, the stranger it became. The collar was supposed to be a restraint, a shackle to keep me under control. But it hadn't felt like that for a while now. Instead, it seemed almost...protective. Like it was guarding me rather than containing me.
But that made no sense. Magic didn't just decide to act independently of its creator. Especially not shadow magic controlled by a demon. So why did Archer's collar seem to have developed its own opinions about how I should be treated?
Archer gave the collar his own bemused stare before his face settled back into his regular mask of indifference.
“Understood,” I said, then he handed me the letter. For a moment, I simply stared, my fingers tracing the letters of my name where Phips had written it on the paper.
He’d known I was coming. He’d been waiting for me to arrive, and when he wasn’t sure he’d survive to greet me, he’d left me this, hoping that I’d know where to look for it.
The thought made me both happy and sad at the same time, my chest tightening with the contradictory emotions.
Blowing out a shaky breath, I broke the seal and unfolded the letter.
My Dearest Delilah,
If you are reading this letter, then I’m afraid the Order has discovered my secret, and I have failed.
You know our histories; the Umbra Fratrum have spent centuries working to protect the Light, and that mission has never been more critical than it is now.
That is why I have hidden the relic where I believed it would be safest.
If you follow the light, my words will reveal the truth.
Delilah, I must urge you to use caution. The Umbra Fratrum has been compromised, and as I write this, I cannot say for certain that the Brotherhood is safe for you. Guardians are falling in unprecedented numbers, and the Order is making dangerous headway.
Trust, as you know, is a precious thing, and so it is with a hopeful heart that I must ask you to do the one thing you have been raised not to.
Trust a demon.
Or, one in particular.
My death will start a chain of events that I am sure will lead him to you. When you find him, know that he will protect you in the way that I wish I could have.
He’ll have no choice in the matter.
I apologize for not being able to meet you in person, but you should know that protecting you has been my life’s work, and I couldn’t be more proud of the woman and the witch you have become.
Tell Heidi that I am sorry I couldn’t do better by you. You weren’t supposed to end up so alone. I never believed that things would get this far out of hand.
Remember, trust The Archer.
He will lead you home.
Yours in eternal servitude,
Sir William Phips