Chapter 13
The last thing I want to be doing is paying a visit to Providence.
Yet here I am, standing in front of her while she plays with a ball of yarn.
I’m sure it’s something very important. I don’t fucking care.
I have better things to do than sit around waiting for her to acknowledge me.
Especially since she’s the one who brought me here in the first place.
“Magic’s a fickle thing, isn’t she?” Providence murmurs.
“Never really thought of magic as a woman.”
She smirks, her silver eyes finding mine. “Whatever else would she be?”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. Magic’s a woman. Karma’s a woman. Fate’s a woman.”
She nods her head as if I’m finally understanding. “All the best things in life are women, don’t you agree?”
“If I disagree, are you going to fill my veins with vinegar like you did three decades ago?” I ask with a raised eyebrow, and she shrugs.
Sighing, she finally drops the ball, and I swear a tiny scream emanates from the thing. A shudder rolls down my spine. If I had a grave, someone would be walking over it right about now.
She sits back, a throne appearing out of seemingly nowhere.
She stuck us in a blank space, only revealing items as necessary.
It always freaks me out to be standing yet not actually be standing.
I give her a pointed look, and she waves.
Another chair appears, though obviously not as ornate.
She always was a bitch. Lovingly, of course.
“Do we have a reason for meeting today?” I ask when her stare becomes too much.
She steeples her hands and taps her fingers against her mouth. “I’m concerned for Omen.”
I roll my eyes. “You’ve never been concerned a day in your life, Providence. What’s the real reason?”
“Fuck you, Dimitri. I care about my brother. I just show it in different ways.”
“Good of you to drop the mystical act. Now what’s the real reason?”
“Ack, fiiinnne.” She claps her hands, and we’re in a lush garden, complete with a gurgling fountain—her home. “I am worried about Omen. Though I might have been alerted to his…delicate condition from the strands. They’re pulling and tightening in the wrong places.”
She twirls her hands around, and the glowing ball of yarn reappears. She studies the thing like it contains the secrets of the universe. Maybe it does. I wouldn’t know. I don’t fuck with things like destiny and threads.
She huffs and the ball vanishes. “Listen, he’s fucking with my job. But also, I did a little peeking—”
“Spying.”
“Peeking. He’s…morose.” She spits out the word like a curse. “He’s drained his magic, which means…”
“How the fuck would I know what that means? He can’t die in Hell.” Should I be arguing with her? Probably not. Do I want to help Omen? Of course. I just don’t know how much I have left in me. Getting back to Mari is my top priority.
She shakes her head, giving me a disapproving look.
“Such wasted talent. Anyway, his magic is tied to the Empyrean. He’s literally sucking souls into his house.
They’d end up there regardless because of his…
whatever. It doesn’t matter. He just needs to get his shit together so everything can right itself. ”
I squirm in my chair, unwilling to admit I have no idea why he’s upset or drained of magic. He looked fine the last time I saw him. Sure, there was tension between him and Clara, but that’s nothing new from what he’s told me.
“What exactly am I supposed to do about this? I can’t make him better.” If I could, I’d uncurse myself.
Realization dawns on her face and she grins. “Would you look at that. The great and mighty Dimitrius doesn’t know what’s happening with his best friend, and I do. Oh, this is good. Wait, I want to remember what this feels like.”
Scowling, I cross my arms. “Get on with it, Prov.”
“Oh fine. Party pooper. He sent his witch topside. No idea why. And yes, I did know he was harboring a witch in Hell. I took care of the paperwork. I also may have sent a few well-deserved threats so he wouldn’t have any issues with his soulbound staying, should she choose to.”
“He sent her back? What the fuck.” I run a hand through my hair and jab my finger into my horn.
“Why don’t you just pop over there and tell him I’m going to pay his witch a little visit. That’ll get his ass in gear. I have a theory I want to check out, anyway.” She waves her hand as if to dismiss me.
Instead, I give her a deadpan look. If I give in without something in return, even if I want to, things will get sticky.
I’ll get a scolding, first of all, and I hate that.
Lecturing a demon doesn’t go well in the best of times.
When they’re the same rank as you, it goes even worse. Also, I could really use some help.
“What’s in it for me?” I ask when she merely stares at me.
“How bold of me to assume you’d do it to help your friend. When was the last time you saw him?”
I shrug, glancing away. I have no idea how much time has passed in Hell while I was topside. Based on how it’s been working lately, I assume not long. Omen’s a strong demon. It would take more than sending Clara back to break him down.
“Inconvenient,” she mutters. “Are they soulbound?”
I shrug again, keeping my face as neutral as possible. “You’d have to ask him. Doubt it, though.”
Her nostrils flare, her black skin flickering like lightning encased within dark storm clouds. “This right here is why you’re annoying. I hope you understand that.”
“Well aware, Prov. Are you going to answer my question?”
She exhales heavily and narrows her eyes. “Fine. What do you want?”
“Don’t know yet.”
Her mouth drops open and she scoffs. “You want me to give you an open-ended promise? Are you for fucking real? You remember who I am, right?”
I brush my palms across my thighs as magic swirls around us. “You think I’d forget?”
“Well, sometimes familiarity makes one forget pertinent information,” she snaps.
“Didn’t forget you’re fate, Providence. Which is why I want the vow.”
“Oh, a vow. Nothing big, then.” Her eyes narrow, pinning me in place. “You’re still going to go check on Omen. You’re a softie like that. So, why would I—”
“Because I know all your embarrassing secrets.” I smirk as the realization crashes into her.
“You fucking bastard. Fine. But you know the rules. If you want a love or binding spell, go visit a witch. If you want to find your soulbound, no you don’t. And consent is always top billing, so don’t—oh, what am I saying. You’re a stickler for that shit.”
“Not shit to have a willing participant in whatever I’m engaged in,” I slap my hands on my legs, then push to my feet. “I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but you’re a bitch and if you ever yank me around the dimensions again, I’ll fill your bathtub with squids.”
Outrage flashes across her face, then dissolves as a full-body shudder takes over. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me,” I spin, intent on stepping into the void to get to Omen when I glance over my shoulder. “What about curses?”
She gives me a look. “What about them? Wait, is this your—”
I hold up my hand. “I don’t need you for an education on curses, Prov. I’m asking if you can break them.”
She shakes her head. “Only one I know who can is Karma. Somehow, I think you’re better off doing the research yourself. Unless you made up with your darling sister?”
I roll my eyes and disappear into the void, not bothering to answer.
Instead of Omen’s room, though, I’m dropped into a dingy alley topside.
I glance around, taking in the bright lights piercing the night.
Thick bass rumbles from the building to my right, though the one on the other side sits silent.
It’s not that I’ve never been to a city up here before.
It’s been a long time, though. At least, I think it has.
As soon as I learned how to travel through the void, I would sneak up here to explore.
Sometimes Omen tagged along. He was always more of a stickler for the rules—thought he had something to prove to our demon handlers.
We were young and reckless and full of false bravado.
Back then, this world wasn’t so busy. There weren’t as many humans, and technology hadn’t burst from its bubble yet. Omen enjoyed the solitude more than me.
All that to say, I’ve been to a club before. It’s been a while, though. Human emotions ran rampant, and they didn’t always act in their best interests. Sometimes I wish it didn’t take so much for demons to get a buzz. Not much up here does the trick. It might help ease the pain of the curse.
At least I’m not passed out in this dirty alley.
Other than a strange tugging in my gut, it’s as if it never afflicted me.
I’m wary of believing I’m suddenly cured.
They don’t typically work like that. The music cuts out, and I freeze at the sudden silence.
Three inhales later, the beat drops and the crowd inside screams. I tense, then remember—joy.
They’re not being tortured or whipped into a frenzy like other situations I’ve been in. They’re, dare I say, happy.
“Wouldn’t it be nice,” I mumble. The thought stops my brain from skipping to the next thing.
I’m happy. Always jovial. Always joking. Always jesting.
Except most of the time I’m faking it. Or playing at the emotion. Omen may be able to play off surly like a positive trait. I’m not capable. Being able to bury my emotions is my best asset, honestly. Otherwise, my friends would be constantly worried about me.
Curiosity more than anything has my feet moving toward the entrance.
Just before I step into the bright neon street, I stop.
Groups of humans filter past, unaware of the presence of a demon a mere few feet away.
I close my eyes, hoping I have enough energy to mask my natural form.
It’s less scary than my true form, but I doubt the humans would appreciate a grey-skinned demon with black eyes prancing around them.
I step onto the sidewalk and wait for the screams of terror.
A woman barely gives me a glance as she passes by with her friends, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
When she looks over her shoulder, hunger heavy in her gaze, I duck my head.
I can’t do anything about my height. Slouching will have to do.
I doubt it will deter anyone ravenous enough.
I’m not here to hook up with some unsuspecting human.
For some reason, an image of a certain purple-haired witch pops into my mind.
I should seek her out, find out what she was so close to telling me.
Do I think she was about to reveal all her deepest, darkest secrets?
Probably not. There was something, though.
Something I could help with. And I desperately want to help her.
I’ll figure out why one little witch has such an impact on me later.
“Line’s back there, buddy,” a surly man six inches shorter than me grunts when I approach the front.
I glance down the block and purse my lips. More than a couple of people are watching our exchange. No, watching me. I glance down, taking in my leather-covered arms and simple white t-shirt. The jeans are a little tight, but nothing to alert the harpies about.
I lean closer and the man, bouncer, bares his teeth. “I’m with the band.”
Flashing him my most charming smile doesn’t do anything. I sigh, then snap my fingers in his face. His eyes take on a glazed appearance, and I wait for a beat, then push past him.
“Have fun, man!” he calls after me.
Hallways jut off to each side before the space opens up.
Tall ceilings with the guts of the building exposed sit high above my head.
It’s less crowded than I expected. I wonder why the bouncer isn’t letting more people in.
It’s not until I reach the railing in front of me that it clicks.
A huge dance floor sits a story below. Hundreds of humans writhe to the music.
They sway in time, merging with each other to create a cacophony of limbs tangled together.
A different kind of magic swirls around, infusing the very air with a rapturous energy. My blood and magic thrum through my veins and I spin, intent on joining them.
Half a step and my brain catches up with what I spotted in the crowd. Purple. Bright yet deep purple. It couldn’t be Mari. I swing around and search the sea of people for her distinctive hair. It takes me a minute to find the woman, and my shoulders drop as relief floods me. Definitely not her.
Except…yes. Yes, it fucking is.
Before I can fully think things through, I snap my fingers and manipulate the shadows created by the lights to vanish. Wings burst from my back, and I vault over the railing.
This is a bad idea. A very bad idea.