Chapter 39
A Week Before the Night of Emethye
How is it possible for a mortal to be this beautiful? Not even the Vayl could create… her. I’m certain of it.
She hasn’t seen me yet, but I keep myself cloaked in shadows on purpose. Even though I was the one who summoned the Witch here, I’m still wary of trusting her.
I hadn’t gone to her first. Not by a long shot. I sought help from Demons, even the Fallen, and none of them would hear me out. So for her to agree to this meeting… I know I’ll owe her something in return.
She turns slightly, and eyes like… sunfire, flash in my direction.
A living blaze of gold, orange, and white.
Her pearl white hair falls over her shoulders to the middle of her back, and the dark blue dress she wears hugs her pear-shaped frame.
Bloody Beyond, I’ve gone without sustenance for so, so long that feeding on her would sate every ache in my bones.
Though, from her scent alone, I can tell addiction would follow.
Her lips part slowly, starting from the center, until her white teeth show. She senses me. I can feel the magic around her gathering, pulling upward toward her open palms.
“Did you summon me only to attack me, son of Belial?” Fuck the Gods—her voice is unreal. “Because I promise I am no weak woman.”
That pulls a smile from me, and I let the shadows fall away as I step out from behind a tree. I shove my hands into my pockets in a show of peace. She mirrors the gesture, but instead, cups her hands together against her stomach.
The closer I get, the more ethereal she becomes.
Her top dips low enough that I can see the soft curve of her breasts, and between them, a tattoo I can’t quite make out.
It’s strange, maybe, to notice something so small, but her collarbones are perfect.
The gentle hollows at her shoulders beg for attention.
Bloody Beyond, I am a dried-out Demon.
“I’m here peacefully, Witch. I promise.” I offer her a smile.
Her brows pinch, suspicion lingering. “I see. It’s Lucifer, right?” Her gaze drifts from my toes upward, slow and assessing, before returning to my face. “You’re… sort of what I expected the son of Belial to look like.”
My smile turns wicked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She rolls her eyes, but a tiny smile betrays her. “As you please, Demon.”
She runs her tongue over her bottom lip before taking a steadying breath. “Why are you looking for a Yldarwright?”
“Straight to business? No pleasantries?”
Probably for the best. I shouldn’t be flirting.
I need to return before my father grows even more irrational about my being here in the mortal realm.
It was his directive that I find a way to gather the information he wants.
It’s not my fault that path led me here.
This is the last fucking place I want to be… It reminds me too much of Kayn.
“I wish I had the time,” she says, leaning to one side. “I’m sure you’re quite fun under other circumstances, but my kind aren’t sought out unless it’s to kill or be killed. Since Demons don’t die, it would be the former.”
I step closer, and her scent hits me—blackberries and ripened figs. Not sweet, but rich and fresh, like living nature woven into a single body. It reminds me of him, and of this place.
I want to hate it.
My body—and my Vigoro—say otherwise.
The need to forget why I summoned her here and bury my face against her skin is almost overwhelming.
“I’m not here to kill you.”
“Attempt,” she corrects, lifting a brow. “Dial back that ego a bit, old man.”
My head flies back with mirth; I can’t hold in the laughter. When I look at her again, she’s wearing a full smile. The fusion of orange and yellow in her eyes blends seamlessly, and somehow it makes the dark freckles across her face stand out even more.
“And here I was told your kind were assholes.”
She shrugs lightly, her smile still in place. “I might be just that. You don’t know me well enough to judge.”
“Fair point,” I croon, stepping one foot closer. She tilts her head back slightly to maintain eye contact. “I’ve heard…” My hand rises to her shoulder, and I take a strand of her hair, twirling it around my finger. “Your kind can open the pathway to the Vayl. Is that correct?”
Her smile falters. “Um…” Her gaze drops to my hand. “That’s right.”
“Then to cut straight to it, dollface, that’s why I’m here. To ask that you open it and allow me into the Valley.”
She lets out the sweetest, most condescending laugh I’ve ever heard. “Right. Well, didn’t take you for a crazy person, but here we are.”
I open my mouth to retort, but something shadows over me.
“Also,” she adds casually, “my friend doesn’t like that you’re touching me.”
I tilt my head back, and a creature built of bark and branches towers over me. Its bright green eyes glow as it huffs a heavy breath across my face.
Unfazed, I release her hair and return my gaze to hers. “I promise, I’m not crazy. What’s your name?”
Though, when dollface rolled off my tongue, I’ll admit it suited her.
She shifts slightly, reaching into the space where I hope a bra isn’t present. She pulls out a small piece of torn paper and hands it to me.
“Amarah,” I read aloud. “Did I say that correctly?”
She nods, then snatches the paper back. “Now, back to your strange ask.”
“I know it’s a challenging request—”
“Not challenging,” she snaps softly. “Don’t insult me, Lucifer.”
I toss my hands up and try to step back, only to bump into the creature behind me. “It seems to want me to stay close to you. It’s sandwiching us together.”
She doesn’t lift a finger or speak a word, but the creature moves anyway, stepping around me. The ground shudders beneath us as it shifts to settle a few feet away. Once it’s still, I drag all of my attention back to her.
“Don’t say no, Amarah. You’re kind of my last hope.”
“I didn’t say no. I said you were crazy for the idea.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Why do you need to go to the Vayl? Your father is barred from there… and that includes all of his offspring.”
“I’m looking for information. I promise it isn’t to start a war.”
“Your presence there could do just that. Vendra fears that outcome, and she would have to grant me an enormous amount of magic to do so.”
I don’t hear a refusal. Not even close. What I hear is a reminder of how difficult this would be. She’s winding up to ask for something…
“What do I get in exchange?”
“Anything you desire, dollface.”
She turns her body away from me and steps aside. The loss of her nearness does something strange to me. It’s like my body needs her back in my space. In my orbit.
“I support the exchange, and so will Vendra.” The creature’s voice booms across the small clearing of the forest around us.
Her shoulders rise with a deep breath. Then she looks back at me. “I require an item.”
“An item? Simple enough.”
“I believe… it belongs to your mother.”
That’s unexpected. “Okay. What is it?”
“Verraketh.”
My eyes narrow into slits. “What could you possibly want with that thing?”
“Something is coming, and I require it to stop the person who’s going to cause a great deal of suffering.”
Her heart pounds, betraying her otherwise calm demeanor. Not because she’s lying, but because something new rolls off her. An emotion I haven’t felt from her yet. Fear, maybe.
“Verraketh, and I’ll grant you passage, Lucifer.”
I don’t hesitate. “Done.”
My father wants me to go, which means my mother will ensure it happens. A mirror she has hanging in her room won’t be what stops me from entering the Vayl.
“Zuhara.” I call for my Familiar, and in an instant, she materializes in a billow of black smoke. Amarah’s attention snaps to the oversized cat, and she smiles.
“Master?” Zuhara bows her head.
“Retrieve Verraketh from my mother, please.”
Zuhara doesn’t waste a second—though she lingers just long enough to look at the Witch—before slipping back into the Phantasm.
“Beautiful Familiar,” Amarah murmurs. “I’ve never met one.”
“She’s a pain in my ass, but thank you. She’d appreciate that.”
When our eyes meet again, I’m tempted to reach out and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Or drag her dress slightly over her shoulder so I can see those collarbones more thoroughly. But the moment the courage comes to me to do it, her guardian creature growls.
Amarah steps back from me seconds after, creating more distance. She turns away, giving me her back as she looks up at the night sky.
“I’ll open the passage to the Valley,” she says softly. “Furthest from the Vayl’s stairway. You shouldn’t run into any warriors.”
Her hands stretch wide, palms facing the ground.
Static electricity bursts from the soil and races up into them.
Magic is an extraordinary power, one most beings can’t channel anymore—many die from touching it directly—but it wraps around her fingers and crawls across her skin like she was born with it braided into her veins.
Static cracks through the clearing, and Zuhara leaps back into this world.
“Your mother says she wishes it returned in the future.”
Our futures span eternity, so I nod. Once the girl dies, I’ll retrieve it and bring it back.
Zuhara approaches and drops the hand mirror into my palm. Immediately, the tree creature stomps over and thrusts its massive hand toward me.
“Alright, alright.”
I place the mirror into its wooden palm and shake my head. When I look back at Amarah, she’s smiling at me—soft, sweet, almost blinding.
“Thanks,” she says.
I nod, and give her a wink. “No, thank you.”
As she looks away from me, I turn my attention to Zuhara. Only now do I notice she’s scanning the world around us. It wasn’t just me who lost Kayn that day. She did too. Being here isn’t what either of us wants; it drags up the memory of what we were forced to lose.
What I was forced to give up…
“I know, girl…” She drops her head and turns it slightly toward me. “I know.”
I stroke the top of her head, earning a soft purr. “Damn him.”