Cast in Hellfire: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Mage Craft Series Book 2) (9 page)

“Stop breaking my toys,” he said.

He slammed her into the dentist’s chair, holding her down with one arm though she thrashed. And a thrashing revenant was nothing that Seth would have ever screwed with.

Guards swarmed Seth and he dropped Marion.

“No!”

He had both handguns drawn instantly, bringing them to bear. But his wrists were caught. Twisted behind his back. He was disarmed and hurled against the moldy, peeling linoleum an inch from Marion’s blood-crusted face.

“Take them upstairs,” Arawn said.

“Which ones?” asked the demon with a boot planted squarely in the middle of Seth’s back.

“All of them. And be nice.” He howled with delight. “These are our guests!”

M
arion dreamed of war
. It wasn’t the first time she’d had that dream. It wasn’t even the first time she’d had it that week.

She walked the streets of Victoria and found it as ravaged as Leiptr in the Winter Court. She stepped among the broken bodies of innocents and children, all of who had faces like Ymir’s, a little frost spirit waiting to become a giant.

He would never grow up, and it was because of the war.

The sky wept crimson rain. Magic burned over it all.

Marion’s
magic.

But it was only a dream, just as it had always been. It faded away and her senses returned.

Reality was not much more pleasant than what she’d been dreaming.

A man sat inches away, his face shoved into hers. He had a black goatee, dreadlocks, and goggles that had been pushed onto his forehead. Red rings encircled his black eyes. “I wasn’t sure that would work,” the man said.

Marion tried to jerk away from him, but she had nowhere to go. She was in a bed crammed into a tiny metal room. Ichor dripped from a cracked pipe thrusting out of the ceiling. It dribbled by the wall at her elbow, and she cringed away from that, too. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“I’m Arawn, Lord of Sheol, and you’re in my tower.” He sat back with the creaking of leather. The man wore so much of it that he must have killed an entire herd of cows to dress himself for the day.

Gods, Marion hoped that reddish leather had been made from cows.

Her eyes burned, as though her contacts had dried out and adhered to her irises. Marion felt like she needed to firehose eye drops onto her face. For now, she settled for blinking repeatedly as she struggled to focus beyond Arawn.

She was so confused by the strange setting—the skulls mounted on the walls, the patchy rug, the dripping ichor—that for a horrible instant, she thought that she’d lost her memories again. Then she saw Seth in the corner, arms folded tightly across his chest, holsters empty.

Marion hadn’t forgotten Seth. She’d never forget Seth.

“Sheol,” she said. The man had said his name was Arawn. She sat up straight. “You have the Canope. My memories. You bought them.”

“Looks like you’re not brain dead. Hurrah.” Arawn rose from the chair beside her bed. “She’ll be fine for a few hours, but humans have a hard time acclimating to the Nether Worlds. She’ll likely need another dose of this by the time the clock strikes twelve.” He shook a vial of red jelly at Seth.

Marion instantly knew the red jelly was the reason her mouth tasted so disgusting. He’d fed that to her. And it had revived her.

Seth reached out to take it, but Arawn pulled back.

“I don’t think so,” Arawn said. “I don’t want the two of you trying to run off.”

Two of you.
“Where’s Charity?” Marion asked.

“Elsewhere. Think of her as additional leverage.”

“For what? What do you want from us?” Seth asked.

Arawn ignored the questions. “I expect you’re here for the Canope. You can’t have it. I paid for it, fair and square, and it’s mine. You’re now my guests and absolutely will not leave this room until I say that you can.” He rattled it off rapidly, as though reciting a short monologue that he’d practiced.

He headed for the door. Seth barred his path.

“Why do you want it? Her memories are worthless to you,” Seth said.

“The memories of a mage?” Arawn cackled. “If you think those are worthless to a demon, then you’ve got no imagination. Anyway, they’re
mine
. You can’t have them. And now you’re my guests.”

“If I’m a guest, then have someone attend to me,” Marion said, gathering her strength to sit up straight. “I need to wash. I need replacement clothes as well. And this room will not do—not at all. Do you realize how filthy it is?”

“You don’t get to make demands here,” Arawn said. “You’re in my world now. Both of you are.”

He brushed Seth aside and left.

A heartbeat after the door shut, Seth tried the handle. “Locked.” He pounded his fist into the wall.

“We’re so close to the Canope.
So close
.” She patted the bed around her. “My bow and quiver—”

“Taken,” Seth said. “They’re probably with my guns. We’re totally disarmed.”

She tried to get out of bed, but when she moved, everything hurt—her lungs, her knees, her back, her skin. She gasped for breath. Sat back on the mattress. “Gods, I wish I had water.”

Seth sat on the bed next to her. “Are you still feeling sick?”

“Very. How lucky that there’s a doctor in the house.” It hurt when she tried to laugh. Marion settled back against the wall with a groan, clutching her chest. It felt like she’d been breathing pure acid. “What happened to me?”

“I don’t know. You collapsed as soon as we entered the Nether Worlds.”

“It feels like when you teleported me to Las Vegas multiplied a thousand-fold. When you teleport, you must be passing through the Nether Worlds. Has that occurred to you?”

“I can’t be a demon. The tests we run at the hospital to figure out what breed people are—the infernal sensors don’t react to me.”

“But every time you teleport, it smells as sulfurous as the air here.”

“I’m not a demon,” he said sharply.

Marion dropped her gaze. “I’m just trying to understand what happened to me.”

Seth sighed. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, gazing in opposite directions. Marion couldn’t stop edging away from whatever substance was oozing down the wall. She’d have preferred to cough up an entire lung than have whatever that was touch her skin.

She curled up into a ball, trying not to touch anything that she didn’t have to. But there was no escaping from herself. She was bloody, sticky, as foul as the rest of the Nether Worlds. None of that was quite as bad as the sandpaper burning of her eyes, though.

“I’m going to take my contacts out,” she said. “This is ridiculous.” She tipped her head back and peeled the silicone off of her irises. It ached to remove them, and it felt like she was trying to rip the eyeballs out of her skull.

“It’s weird that you haven’t gotten surgery to fix your eyes,” Seth said.

“I did, once. I talked about it in my journals. It simply didn’t work. The laser technology we have right now doesn’t work on angel eyes, for whatever reason.” She cringed as she dropped the contacts onto the floor. She wouldn’t be using those again.

Once they were gone, and after she blinked her watering eyes a few times, she could see better. Everything was blurry, but it was a normal amount of blurriness.

“This shirt needs to go too,” Marion said. She unbuttoned her bloody blouse to look at her body. Even shifting a little bit hurt, as though her clothes had been turned to sandpaper by Sheol. It wasn’t a change in her outfit. It was that her skin was shredded, fragile.

Seth stood up suddenly. “Don’t.”

Her hands froze on the buttons. “I’m wearing a camisole under the blouse. It’s not like I’ll be naked.”

“Just
don’t
.” He was glaring at her hands—at the bloody patch on her shirt. Seth sounded so
angry
. “I’m going to look for Charity. Stay here.”

He tried the handle again. Still locked.

“Please, Seth,” she said. “I can’t sit here alone.”

The look in his eyes was chilling. It was a look very much like hate.

He snapped his fingers. With a swirl of brimstone, he vanished.

N
ori had
to take several deep breaths before she could bring herself to enter the throne room of Niflheimr.

On the other side of that door, Konig was meeting with Jibril, and Marion should have been with them. Nori had agreed to stand in when Marion asked, but it wasn’t until the meeting actually arrived that the gravity of her agreement sank in.

She had seen Marion perform negotiations before. The woman was as determined as she was charming, capable of convincing anyone to give her anything she wanted. Her powers of persuasion were incredible.

Nori was not Marion.

They were cousins, and both had angel blood, but that was where similarities began and ended. Nori cried over everything. Literally everything. Including sentimental car commercials. And while she believed herself to be as intelligent as any angel, she was too terrified to speak up and make use of that intelligence.

She could perform acts of subterfuge well enough. Spying on the Autumn Court and reporting to Marion had been fine.

Pretending to be Marion was not fine.

Unfortunately, it was too late for Nori to back out.

She closed her eyes, counted to ten, and walked into the throne room.

Jibril snorted when he saw Nori enter, as though her mere presence insulted him. He’d never warmed up to her presence in Dilmun. Encountering her in the wild didn’t evoke a more positive response, either.

At the sound of the doors closing, Konig turned. The prince’s eyes fell on her, and his gaze sharpened. “Nori. There you are.”

Pleasure rippled down her spine. He remembered her name. Of all the times they’d interacted in the Autumn Court, the gorgeous, stately prince had never addressed her by name before.

“Yes, my lord?” she asked, her pitch a little too high.

“Where’s Marion?”

Right. She was nervous for a reason. “She’s attending to business elsewhere, so I’m standing in for her while she’s gone.”

“What an attentive steward,” Jibril said dryly.

“She’s fully capable of multitasking,” Nori said. “That’s why I’m here to help in her stead. I have her authorization to facilitate whatever deal we decide is mutually beneficial.” It came out more acid than she’d intended, but perhaps that was good. The angels needed someone to call them on their crap once in a while.

She squirmed under the combined gazes of the two men, though for very different reasons.

Jibril, because he looked annoyed by her existence, as he always did.

Konig, because he was staring at her as though she were the only thing in the universe—a puzzle he needed to solve.

Jibril folded his arms. “Let’s ignore for a moment how insulting it is to talk to the assistant of a steward—not even the steward herself—and say that I’m willing to commit an act of treason against Leliel to save the angels from extinction. Why should I put my neck on the line when Marion won’t even show up to discuss it? I should go back and tell Leliel that the court’s undefended, without a leader—”

“You’d be lying,” Konig interrupted.

“With all due respect, you’re no more in charge of Niflheimr than I am.”

The prince drew himself up to his full height. It was easy to see his relation to the King of the Autumn Court whenever he became angry, though he had too much of his mother’s lovely features to look as intimidating. “Do you question my ability to take care of the Winter Court?”

“I don’t feel like there are many questions surrounding the situation.”

“We can give you space in the Wilds to nest if you can usurp Leliel’s leadership,” Konig said. “Surely you have questions about
that
.”

The angel was obviously tempted, but he shook his head. “I won’t speak with anyone but Marion. My offer to negotiate was to her alone. I won’t accept flimsy promises from her boyfriend, her cousin, or any other bit player she thinks to throw at me.”

Jibril drifted toward the window, his wings unfolding behind him. They appeared as ribbons of shimmering light that slowly took form into true appendages, feathered and each twice as long as he was tall.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Konig asked.

“I sneaked out of the EL to talk to Marion today, so I should get back before I’m noticed. Leliel’s been planning to take action. She’ll have an announcement soon. I’d hate to miss it. I want to know what she’s organizing.”

Panic surged within Nori, strong enough that her eyes pricked with tears.

All the work they were doing to protect the refugees, all the work to rebuild Niflheimr…

But Marion had gone tilting at windmills, leaving them exposed to war. Unable to make a deal because the angels wouldn’t talk to them without her.

Speak up, Nori. Marion trusted you to take care of this. It’s your job, stupid, so speak up!

“Marion wants to find a way for you to have the Winter Court,” Nori protested. “If you leave now, you’re burning your bridges. Talk with us. Please! We can work something out.” She sounded more whiny than commanding. Even a tiny fraction of Marion’s confidence would have tripled her authoritativeness.

“Words are hollow.” Jibril stepped over the edge of the window, flared wings catching the icy breeze.

He swept away into the eternal night.

Nori’s heart was pounding in her temples. It only pounded harder when Konig turned slowly to face her with anger in his eyes. The annoyance he must have felt at being dismissed by Jibril had no outlet other than Nori.

Perhaps it wasn’t such a good thing that Konig knew who she was after all.

“Where is Marion?” he asked. “I told her that she needed to be here for this.”

Nori hadn’t planned to tell Konig the truth about Marion’s whereabouts. She’d felt guilty enough delivering the mage to the Empress Hotel to see Seth, like she was helping her cousin cheat on Konig.

Even though Nori was relatively certain nothing was happening with Seth, Konig wouldn’t care. Marion had once made the mistake of talking to a male member of the Autumn Court over dinner and Konig had almost murdered him over it. Once he found out Marion was spending time with Seth again… Nori didn’t want to imagine it.

But he was advancing on her, backing Nori toward the melted lump that used to be the throne, and her fear was too much to lie. Tears swirled at the bottom of her vision. “Marion went to find her memories.”

“She went with that doctor. Didn’t she?”

Nori cringed. “Well…”

Konig’s upper lip twitched. His nose wrinkled. It was like the effort to control his emotion was a living thing skittering under his skin. “I’ll kill him. I should have killed him when he first set foot in the Autumn Court.”

“You’ll never get Marion to work with us if you do that.”

He glared at her. “Us?”

The failing scraps of her courage wriggled in her stomach. She pressed a hand to her belly to quiet it. “The way I see it, the steward has delegated her authority. We’re the ones running the court while she’s gone. This isn’t a problem, but an opportunity to utilize tools she’s too distracted for.”

“But Jibril’s right. Marion’s words are just words, and we can’t do anything binding without her here.”

“I’m not sure we can do anything
with
her here, either,” Nori said. “The Wilds will only respond favorably to allies of a true ruler, and she’s a steward—not a queen. Not even sidhe.”

Konig clenched his hands into fists. “I know. We’re incapable of cutting any kind of deal with the angels.”

“Under these conditions, yes, but there are ways around that,” Nori said. “I talked with Marion a lot before—you know,
before
, when she was still herself. We often talked about the magic surrounding the Middle Worlds, and the structures that were put in place during Genesis, and the hierarchies…”

He closed in on Nori. “And?” There was still anger in his eyes, but it was tempered by interest.

She took a step backwards. She couldn’t seem to organize her thoughts when he was looking at her like that. “The magic inherent in the Middle Worlds will respond best to a true ruler—sidhe royalty. Marion’s officially in charge, but she can’t control Niflheimr, can’t regrow the Wilds, can’t activate a lot of the wards.”

“You said that.”

“Niflheimr still recognizes her as a leader to a small degree. We can tell because we haven’t been ejected by the wards. If the steward somehow became sidhe royalty…”

Konig seemed to be catching onto Nori’s line of thinking. His lips curved into a bow that might have been a smile or a frown. “Or what would happen if Marion became
wedded
to sidhe royalty?”

Yep. He was on the same line of thinking.

“The Winter Court wants to be ruled properly. The magic here would recognize you instantly,” Nori said. “And once you’ve got the reins, you can do pretty much whatever you want—including forging alliances that the magic of the world will recognize.”

“Gods, Nori,” Konig said. “You’re a genius.”

Her cheeks went hot, which was near miraculous, given the temperature of Niflheimr. “Thank you.”

Konig gazed at her intently, as though he were seeing her for the first time all over again. He seemed to like what he was seeing. “It’s a shame I never spoke to you—really spoke to you—during all those months you served my parents in the Autumn Court. We’re going to have to talk a lot more in the coming days.”

Gods, it felt like she was going to catch fire with pleasure and embarrassment. “I’d like that. I would really like to have the ear of the King and Queen of the Winter Court, in fact.”

A shiver rolled over Konig. “King of the Winter Court. But that can’t happen if Marion is running around with that doctor.”

“She told me that they would be going to Sheol to confront a demon named Arawn.” When he rubbed the bridge of his nose, considering this information, Nori added, “I’m happy to arrange another meeting with Jibril in a couple of days. I’ll also watch the refugees in the meantime if you want to take a trip anywhere else. Anywhere at all.”

“Yes,” Konig said. “Yes, I think that might be a very good idea.”

C
harity was alone
in Arawn’s tower for so long that she thought she had been forgotten. Enough time passed that fear subsided to be replaced by boredom, and she began to explore the confines of her new prison.

It didn’t look much like a prison. She’d been ditched in an airy room with overstuffed leather furniture, much of which was decorated by bone. There were rugs and tapestries too. It might have been pleasant if not for the kennels along the walls filled with snarling white dogs.

She edged nearer the kennels, contemplating whether releasing the dogs might make enough chaos for her to escape. There was no consciousness in their hollow eyes. They also weren’t locked in. Arawn wasn’t afraid of her opening their cage doors, which meant that it wouldn’t be in her favor to do it.

Not that Charity thought she couldn’t kill the dogs. She just didn’t want to.

The dogs weren’t locked in, but she was. The towering double doors wouldn’t open under her hand. She could hear Arawn’s gang laughing outside.

And then she heard footsteps.

Charity stepped back as the doors swung open.

Arawn had returned.

She struggled against the urge to hide. They were in his tower, his home, his whole stupid plane of the Nether Worlds. Where would she hide that he couldn’t find her?

“It’s you,” Arawn said with surprise. “You look totally different. What happened?”

Charity reflexively touched the frames of her glasses. She’d reengaged her glamour out of habit. Even in Sheol, surrounded by monstrosities, she was more comfortable looking human. She didn’t exactly want to blend in with the locals.

“Where are my friends?” Charity asked.

He pretended not to hear her. “Take the glamour off. Stop hiding.”

Charity was so offended that Arawn might as well have suggested that he tattoo a giant penis on her forehead. “No way.”

“Gods, but
look
at you. So cool. So amazing.” He tossed his hat onto his table and bounced over, like he was a fan getting to meet a celebrity for the first time. “What
are
you? You don’t feel like anything I’ve ever met before!”

Charity backed up until she bumped into the window. It looked out of the tower, all the way down to the tunnel that had led to the entrance. “That’s because you probably haven’t met anything like me before.”

“You’re not a demon. I can’t read your mind.” Arawn only stopped walking once he was a few inches away, gazing at her human face intently. “Yet you’re not mortal, either. I can’t feel your death.”

“My death?”

“I’m not merely a Lord of Sheol. I’m Death himself, heir to the Pit of Souls. One day, when I’ve grown into my power as psychopomp, I’ll walk all mortals to the other side.” Arawn made it sound like she should have been honored to be in his presence.

She wasn’t honored, but she was a little bit afraid. “You better back off. I’m a revenant. A kind of vampire. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t, do you? All that power, and you don’t want to use it.” He lifted his hand, as though contemplating removing her glasses. He didn’t touch her. But the look in his eyes was reverent. The words that came out next were not. “You’re ugly like this.”

Charity slapped him hard enough that his head snapped to the side.

Arawn worked his jaw around and rubbed his cheek gently. She’d hurt him. Good.

“That one’s free,” he said. “Next time you hit me, I’ll rip your arm off. I’d rather leave every perfect inch of your body intact.”

“My ugly body,” Charity said. Not that she was insulted that some Lord of Sheol thought she wasn’t pretty.

“
This
body is ugly. Your true form is…amazing. What you’ve got underneath this wretched spell is better than any of the artwork I’ve got in my entire tower.”

He bent like he was going to kiss her.

Charity ducked away from him.

Arawn was so relaxed about the rejection that she thought she must have misinterpreted his body language. He sauntered toward the door, pulling out a pocket watch. It was the size of his fist, a complicated mess of cogs and ticking pieces.