Chapter 32 Archer
Chapter thirty-two
Archer
The doors to the great hall opened automatically as soon as we approached them. Creaking ominously, the giant slabs of obsidian parted slowly, revealing a cavernous room illuminated by the low light of candles.
Taking one last deep breath, I stepped forward, hoping that for once the feisty little witch at my side would follow my lead and just do as she was told.
The hall was huge, the ceiling so high that the candlelight couldn’t reach it, leaving the space above us thick with shadows.
Normally, I’d be able to control those shadows, using my magic to bend them to my will and have them reveal all their secrets.
But when I reached for them, only silence greeted me, a hollow ache that left me cold.
Being cut off from my power had me feeling blind and more vulnerable than I wanted to admit.
We walked toward the far end of the long room, the sides of the space lined with dozens of Astaroth’s servants, all kneeling with their heads bowed, awaiting his orders.
Glancing at them, I could see that they were human, but all of them had been mutilated in some way, their bodies displaying the physical manifestations of their eternal punishment.
They were also all naked.
Beside me, I could sense Delilah’s rising tension, her rapid breathing an indication of her shock.
“Archer.” The word was a tremulous whisper. Turning my head, I took in her wide-eyed gaze, the horror on her face painful to look at. “Archer, look at them. We have to help them.”
Not wanting her to do anything rash, I reached for her hand, clasping her small, delicate fingers in my much larger ones, trying to will her to trust me, to let me get us out of this mess.
“Not yet, little witch,” I soothed, my thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of her hand, my own blood singing at the contact. “You have to hold strong. We can’t help anyone if we’re dead.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she also didn’t pull away, and for that I was grateful.
“Imagine!” called a voice from the far end of the space, brash and loud in the silent room. “An uninvited guest! It’s been so long since someone has graced me with their presence without having earned the right to do so.”
Astaroth sat before us, sprawled languidly across a throne made of bones, his black shirt unbuttoned and his feet bare.
The face he wore today was handsome, golden hair and eyes like the sea, even if they were reptilian in appearance, their vertical pupils giving one pause when they looked at him.
His smile was wide and welcoming, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was simply a gracious host offering greeting.
But I knew better.
“Archer, it’s been too long, my friend.”
“Some might say not long enough,” I replied, lifting my chin.
Astaroth laughed, his head thrown back in malicious glee.
“I suppose they might. I see you’ve brought me something.” His eyes latched onto Delilah, then to the collar at her throat. But it was when he noticed our joined hands that his smile turned vicious and knowing. “Or perhaps she’s not for sharing.”
“No,” I said, my hand tightening on hers. “She’s not.”
“More’s the pity,” he lamented, clicking his tongue.
“Although, by the looks of it, you’ve not been treating her well.
” Standing from the throne, Astaroth descended the short steps of the dais, a melodramatic pout on his face.
“Holy Hell, you are a ragged little thing, aren’t you?
Sweet mercy, what has this bastard done to you? ”
“She’s fine,” I snapped before Delilah could answer him, the words coming out in a low growl.
“She’s hardly fine, Archer. The poor girl’s a mess.
” Reaching out one hand, Astaroth gently lifted Delilah’s chin, frowning at the scabbed over cut that Helena had left on her neck.
“Archer never did take good care of his toys.” Offering a wicked smirk, Astaroth stepped back, clapping his hands loudly and causing Delilah to flinch as two of the kneeling servants sprang to their feet in response.
“Come! Bring water and clean clothes. This is no way to treat our honored guests.”
The two servants, both women, moved with efficiency born of long practice, bringing a bowl of warm water and several cloths, and I wondered how many centuries they had spent here, kneeling naked at the feet of a monster, doing his bidding.
In just a few minutes—or as near to a few minutes as I could tell given the strange way time seemed to pass in the Void—they had cleaned the worst of the dirt and blood off of the two of us, even offering Delilah a brush for her hair.
She accepted, undoing the braid and brushing out her tangles before she secured it again.
She refused, politely, the offer of new clothes, keeping her gaze on the faces of the women serving us the whole time.
I didn’t blame her, although I didn’t think their nudity had anything to do with it.
Both women were viciously mutilated, the flesh of their torsos hanging off them in long, bloody ribbons.
The places that weren’t flayed open hadn’t escaped, either, showing dozens of ragged puncture wounds, each festering and dripping with pus.
Teeth marks. These women had been ravaged by hell hounds.
When we’d been sufficiently cleaned the women retreated back against the wall, dropping to their knees and resuming their place among the legion of other servants waiting to do Astaroth’s bidding.
“Well, that’s better, isn’t it? Now, let’s eat.”
He gestured, and behind us, the previously empty hall was suddenly filled with a long table and three chairs, all gathered at one end.
Astaroth took the seat at the head of the table—a huge, throne-like monstrosity that couldn’t possibly be comfortable—leaving the other two, one on each side, for us.
But there was no fucking way I was putting Delilah anywhere near him. Picking up one of the chairs, I deposited it on the other side of the table then sat, placing myself between the wide-eyed witch and the smarmy incubus.
“Sit, witch,” I grumbled, gesturing to the empty chair beside me, needing her close. I shifted in my own seat, my wings not allowing for a very comfortable position, but I was sure that was Astaroth’s intent when he had chosen the chair.
“He’s so growly, isn’t he?” Astaroth asked her, his tone jovial even if his slitted eyes told me he was annoyed at my behavior.
“Although I suppose that comes with the territory. I must say, it’s been some time since I’ve seen you in this form, Archer,” he taunted me, knowing that my being in the Void meant I’d lost the ability to control my own appearance.
After all, he’d engineered his kingdom that way.
“I think it suits you.” After a moment, Astaroth grinned, then added, “And I think your pretty little witch agrees with me.”
The response was instant, my cock stiffening at the idea that Delilah found my true form attractive. That she would see me as I was and still welcome me.
Want me.
I pushed those distracting thoughts aside, instead focusing on the table before me.
As soon as we had sat down, more of his servants rose and were now scurrying around like little mice, delivering plates and crystal goblets, pouring wine and filling the table with heaping trays of food.
All of it rotten and stinking, crawling with maggots and flies.
Beside me, Delilah gagged, her face going a little green at the sight of the roasted boar’s head in front of her, empty eye sockets filled with fat, white, larvae.
“Is there something wrong?” Astaroth asked, his eyes narrowing at her. “You’re not eating? Are you so high and mighty that you’ll reject my hospitality? Insult me in my own home?”
His voice rose, booming off the high walls, and above us, I could hear the wyvern screech again, its own mood shifting to match its master’s.
“Leave her alone, Duke,” I warned, using his title in an attempt to placate him. “She means no harm. This is her first visit to the underworld. Can you really blame her?”
Taking a breath, Astaroth considered my words, his angry gaze still locked on Delilah, who trembled by my side. After a moment, he relented, sitting back in his chair again and picking up his goblet, the easy smile returning to his face.
“Well, of course she’s struggling. She’s new.
I’m sure you’ll have her whipped into shape in no time, hey Archer?
” I didn’t miss his emphasis on the word whipped, nor the way the servant at his side cowered when he said it.
If the wide welts on her back and arms were any indication, she was all too familiar with the word herself.
“Now,” he continued, taking a long drink from his goblet.
When he finished, he leered at us, and I realized that the servants hadn’t filled them with wine at all, but blood, and from the way Astaroth slowly licked his lips, he was very much enjoying it.
“How about you tell me what you’ve been up to since I last saw you and what the fuck you’re doing in my realm? ”