Defying Instinct (Demon Instinct Series) (25 page)

After
the whirlwind of the jump, we reappeared at a place that looked like a crowded train
terminal, only the structure was grey stone, and I wondered if we were inside a
cave somewhere.  Demon Union Station was the only way I could define it.  To
say it wasn’t what I’d expected wouldn’t quite cover it.

No
one spoke as we got in a long, looong line.  And waited.

And
waited.

Looking
around, everyone was glamoured, but everyone was a demon.  Probably full-castes,
traveling from Up Above to the Underrealm.

“Aren’t
they going to beat us there?” I whispered to Rowan, who hadn’t let go of my
hand since we left The Bookstore.

“We
all must go through the Gate.  They could not have made it here as quickly as
we did.”

Did
that mean they had to walk?  Were there giant, deep caves like this in St.
Louis?  How far did Matteo and Octavia have to travel to get here?  I wanted to
ask, I wanted to know everything I could.  It was less to do with curiosity
now, and more to do with survival. 

But
I didn’t ask.  If we all made it back Up Above unharmed, then I’d get some
answers.  We’d sit down, and Grayson, Cyrus, and Rowan would have to tell me
everything they could.  It was time.  Actually, it was long overdue.

No
reason our time spent in this line couldn’t be useful, I thought, then looked
up at my Sentinel.  We’d already been in the unmoving line for several minutes,
and Rowan looked twitchy.

Why
doesn’t Noah have his own set of advisors?
I telepathed to Rowan, and felt appreciation roll off him.

Rowan
put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.  All pretenses between us were
gone, or at least put on hold.  I welcomed the contact, knowing it was going to
be hard to let it go when my Sentinel pushed me away again.

“Noah
was conceived after Nikolai took power,” Rowan explained.  “Remember what I told
you about females not becoming Royal if they’ve had offspring?”

I
nodded, and Grayson looked like he was about to protest, disgruntled about
something.  Made me wonder if that was something he’d told me in the warehouse,
then erased from my memory. 

Grayson,
looking sour, leaned in.  “You have more—what word did you use before?—
autonomy
than Noah ever could have.”

Why
would Iliana have me then, if she planned on becoming Royal?
  This time I telepathed to all three of them.

The other
two males looked at Grayson, so I did the same.  Made sense.  He should know
the most.  He was the oldest, an advisor to Nikolai, unofficially to Noah, and
to Iliana.

“My
guess is, she grew up,” the Tempter muttered, and I didn’t miss the malice in
his thoughts.  There was no question.  Grayson hated my mother. 

I
didn’t believe that was the reason.  There was more to Iliana’s actions.  I was
sure of it.

Besides,
how much could a demon grow up in two decades?  It had only been twenty years
since she gave birth to me.  Could she become so different in that amount of
time?

I
thought about myself, how much I’d changed in the past week.  Looking down at
my Italian brown and gold hand, resting casually, as if it had every right to
be there, on Rowan’s hard stomach, I took stock of all of the sensations within
me.  Fear.  Love.  Determination.  Courage.  Shamelessly, I clung to the male
who clung to me, basking in the heat of him.

There
was a thread of hope inside me, hope that Iliana wasn’t what I thought.  That
she had in fact glamoured me twenty years ago to protect me.  That she was
sending for me now because she cared for me, and wanted to be in my life.

My
situation was unusual, but that meant little.  I’d changed so much.

Will
you tell me about…
I felt embarrassed
even though there was no logical reason I should know these things
…what
exactly a Scion does?

Grayson
asked for permission to telepath first, which I immediately granted and felt
guilty about.  When he answered, telepathing to Cyrus who telepathed to Rowan as
a courtesy to them, he didn’t make it seem like a stupid question.

It
is tradition.  After Astor, every Royal conceived and co-ruled with a Scion. 
Because Sorcerers were in charge until last year—except two centuries ago when
a Reaper got ambitious—there wasn’t even a possibility of having a half-caste Scion.

Right,
because Sorcerers couldn’t reproduce with humans, only other Sorcerers.  I
waded through the disjointed information, and closed my eyes for a moment,
wishing I hadn’t figured out what I just figured out.

So
basically you’re saying I’m not only the first half-caste Scion, I’m the first
one ever to be conceived before the Royal took power?

Grayson’s
features contorted, saying unfortunately, that was the gist of it. 

“Fantastic,”
I said aloud dryly, snuggling closer to Rowan. 

That
meant no one knew what my position was supposed to entail.  No wonder no one
told me anything about it yet.  It wasn’t just because I was a half-caste who
usually wouldn’t get to know these things.  There was nothing to tell.

Eventually,
the line moved and Cyrus took the lead.  The demon at the Gate was a fully
glamoured Mischief demon.  In fact, looking around, all of the lines led up to
a glamoured Mischief demon at a podium. 

Sensing
my interest, Rowan pulled me even closer to his side, his arm heavy and
comforting around my shoulders.  “Fae are always Guardians of the Gate.  Devils
set the rules, but the Fae do the work.”

A
few minutes later, we were granted access to the Gate, whatever that was, and
were allowed to pass through.  No one looked twice at me, even though I knew
they must have known who I was.  My skin hummed.  Rowan’s skin hummed.  And everyone
kept saying I looked like Iliana.  Yet, no one noticed us at all.

The
Gate was an arch dug into a cave wall, making an opening into a dark cavern.  I
couldn’t see much up ahead, but let Rowan lead me as I looked up at the canopy
of the cave.  Etchings marked the stone, intricate carvings that resembled
Celtic knots intertwined from one side to the other.  They were even across the
ground, making a continuous seal.  I wondered if it was a spell of some kind,
one that appeared on all openings to the Underrealm, so everyone had to wait in
line at Demon Union Station and register before going down below.

The
calculating, demon part of me wondered if there were any points of entry into
the ‘realm that weren’t regulated.

Once
we passed the seal and the cave, we jumped again.  Rowan didn’t give me any
warning, but I was quickly getting used to the whirlwind sensation.  It was
like I could sense when it was coming.

When
we reappeared, we were deep in the Underrealm.  I’d never been there, but it
felt eerily familiar.

Since
Faction and Division had been entirely not what I had expected, and the Gate
terminal had been beyond bizarre, I’d prepared myself for the same reaction to
the Underrealm.  But it was like I’d always imagined.

Everything
was black and grey, stone and soot.  It was like stepping into one of my old smoke-and-fire
rages, a real, live nightmare.

The
air was so arid, sweat broke out along my forehead instantly.  It kind of felt
like standing too close to an inferno, only there was no chance of stepping
away.  The air smelled grimy, like old ash and a mild hint of sulfur.  It stung
my senses, and my eyes watered, but I had to deal with it.  I couldn’t show
weakness here.

As
we walked, I took in the sights, trusting Rowan to guide me.  It was like a
sinister town square.  Carts of freaky looking items—some squiggling—lined the street
and demons walked in every direction.  A fight broke out in the middle of the
square between what looked like two Razer males, though I couldn’t be sure from
our distance.  I watched unblinking as three demons wearing full, crude body
armor pulled the demons apart.

Snap.

One
of the demon’s neck broke, the sound echoing across the square, seeming to
surround me.  One of the armored demons let the Razer’s lifeless body crumple mercilessly
to the black, sooty ground with a sickening thump.

As
we walked farther, and the scene with the now dead Razer male was no longer in
view, I noticed everyone gawking.  Unlike at Demon Union Station, everyone was
noticing us.  Rowan’s arm was no longer around my shoulder, and I felt the loss
of the contact deep inside.  But I understood.  He had to be on guard now, and
it was obvious, with as much attention the four of us were getting, that his
protection was necessary.  My Sentinel walked a step ahead of me, and a bit to
the side, keeping me in his peripheral vision but able to survey the terrain
ahead.  The Razer in me approved.

We
had the attention of the entire square now.  Hundreds of demon eyes were on
me.  The attention made me anxious.

How
am I supposed to act?

I
telepathed to all three of my sentries as we walked through the crowd that
parted in front of us, both glamoured and unglamoured demons bowing low as we
passed.  I felt self-conscious and fidgety.

Grayson
said, “Just ignore them.”

So I
did, even though it made my stomach turn.  I’d appear superior, too good to
acknowledge their presence.  But I didn’t know what else to do.

If I
had been accurate about the ‘realm as a whole, then I was absolutely spot on
when it came to Iliana’s palace. 

A
black stone castle reached high in the air with jagged rocks protruding
menacingly at all angles, as if the structure had been chiseled from a mountain
and made to frighten with images of bodies falling from the high tower and
being skewered on those jagged rocks.

It
was strange to look up and not see sky.  A blanket of darkness canopied everything.

The
energy of the air was charged, like a lightning storm.  If we were above
ground, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see vultures and other flying
predators circling high above.  The guards, all Hammer demons I was willing to
bet, were dressed in armor, crude, metal sheets covering their chests and
helmets with low brims concealing their faces, like the ones in the square
before.

Don’t
stray from your Sentinel
, Grayson
telepathed along with a stiffness which seemed needless until I saw the demon
walking towards us from inside the fortress.  Even telling me to stay close to
Rowan, which I would have thought would piss Grayson off seemed wrong, because
he wasn’t pissed off.  He was concerned.

The
Hammer coming our way was the hugest male I had ever seen.  A hulking monster
so tall and so broad, he had to hunch while walking through the corridor made
for monsters.  He had to be eight feet tall and four feet wide.  Only, when he met
us at the door, I saw he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, not crude body
armor.  And though he looked frightening, even glamoured, and filled me with a
sense of dread, there was a look of welcome in his metallic eyes.

At
first I didn’t recognize him.  Once I did, I imagined Benn rolling his eyes at
my ignorance.  This male was Apollo, the Hammer advisor.  He looked smaller in
magazine photos.

“Grayson. 
Cyrus,” the Hammer advisor nodded, his voice like a bass guitar.  “Greta and I
arrived moments ago.”

“Have
you seen Stratton?” Grayson asked. 

Apollo
didn’t even look at Rowan, but gave me a tight nod without looking at me before
responding.  “He is in with her now.”

Cyrus
and Grayson looked grim at the news. 

“I
suggest waiting in the banquet hall.  I will try to send Stratton if…” the hulking
demon shifted ever so slightly, “when he is released.”

A
sharp nod from Grayson, and Apollo left.  I watched his enormous back as he lumbered
down the corridor, amazed by how huge he was.

“How
is he so big?”

“We
never stop growing,” Rowan said, and I looked at Cyrus, wondering if the big,
scary version of the cute, dimpled demon was closer to what he looked like
unglamoured.  He was, after all, forty years older than Rowan.

“Why
doesn’t he jump?” I asked, watching him hunch down even lower as he turned the
corner, out of our range of sight.

Rowan
didn’t turn, didn’t look at me at all.  “She has put a ban on jumping within
the fortress.”

“How
can she regulate it?  How would she even know?”

“Devil
magic,” Rowan said, his tone bleak. 

I
was desperate to reach out and touch him.  The empty, rigid set of his presence
kept me in line, but ignited my need to comfort him.  And myself.  I needed to
know, no matter what was happening on the outside, Rowan was still Rowan on the
inside. 

I
wished he could telepath with me, but knew that was impossible.

With
Cyrus silently leading the way, the four of us entered the dark stone palace
and maneuvered through corridors, some wide and tall, some low and narrow. 
None of them were too small for me, but my three sentries had some trouble,
occasionally resorting to shuffling through sideways, their broad chests
scraping against the stone.

It
took me most of the walk to realize why the fortress hadn’t been built with
demon size in mind.  Sorcerers were little.  Short and slim, even more so than
average humans.  This palace, this fortress for Royalty, was made for
Sorcerers.

We
were in such a hurry, I didn’t get to look around much.  Though I knew this was
probably the most dangerous place for me to be right now, I wanted to go
wandering around.  Who knew what was around the next corner?  I wondered if
there was a library, somewhere they kept all of their records.  Or was I
thinking too much like a human?  Did demons keep records like humans did?

But
I didn’t get to explore, and as Cyrus threw open a set of double, iron doors, I
knew we had reached the banquet hall.

It
wasn’t much to see either.  More dark stone and dirty, black grunge crunched
below our feet.  A long, stone table and an iron chandelier hung down, a
million little flames dancing along it, illuminating the room.  Pretty badly,
too.  I could barely see.

Luckily,
Grayson, Cyrus and Rowan could.  All I had to do was follow.

Rowan
pulled an iron chair from under the table for me, and I took it, but he didn’t
sit down.  Arms folded across his chest, he stood behind me, face blank, eyes forward. 

Grayson
sat across from me, but Cyrus stood behind him, just as Rowan stood behind me.

Hardly
any time passed before a parade of demons wearing tattered, dingy pieces of
fabric over their bodies shuffled in on silent feet.  A ballet of trays and
cups flew past, and quickly littered the stone table without making even the
slightest sound on impact.  Just as quickly as they arrived, the parade was
over.

It
wasn’t until another demon entered the hall before I snapped out of the
hypnotized state the flurry of silent action had put me in.  When I looked at
the little demon carrying a jug of something in both of her hands, I couldn’t
help but stare.

Reapers
were only slightly less elusive than Sorcerers.  Demonology books didn’t even
have images of them unglamoured, just guesses on how they’d look. 

They
appeared almost totally human, which added credibility to the theory that
Reapers were the only demons that were once human.  The assumption was, they got
recruited, or tricked most likely, into agreeing to a deal.  It was exactly
what the well-known phrase warned against.  They made a deal with a demon.

This
female couldn’t have been more than sixteen when she was turned.  Though it was
covered by a scarf like every other female I’d seen so far, her long, dark,
thick hair couldn’t be completely hidden and fell to her hips.  Big, exotic
brown eyes, skin that suggested Middle Eastern descent, and elegantly nimble
hands drew my attention even before the intricate tattoos.

The
thick, black markings encircled her neck, wrists, and ankles.  Smaller, more
delicate markings ran up the sides of her legs, stomach, arms, and shoulders,
and kept going up to and around her ears.  I wondered if they went under her
hair, but forced myself not to lean closer to investigate. 

Her
clothes were, I thought, specifically designed to display those tattoos,
because I could see them go from her slippered feet all the way to her face,
little in the way of fabric marring the lines.

And
she looked sad.  Her exotic eyes looked pained.

The
waves of vague emotion I felt from other demons were noticeably absent when I
reached out to her mentally, trying to understand why her eyes looked so sad.  I
could sense something strange and sour, but only mildly.

“You
find my brands interesting,” the female Reaper said, catching me studying the
tattoos that even ran between her fingers when she poured some amber liquid
into my glass.

Her
voice was beautiful, melodic in some indefinable way.

“What
do they mean?” I asked, drawing the immediate attention of my male companions,
as if what I’d asked was something horrible. 

But
the Reaper had no such reaction.

“Harvested
souls leave a mark,” she said somewhat cryptically, but I knew what it meant. 
Each time she collected a soul for her Empress, it was branded into her body.

“To
remind you?” I asked, struggling to understand.

The
female met my stare, her exotic, brown eyes so human.  “To bind me.”

Goosebumps
tickled my arms. 

Something
about the empty, but beautiful voice made me not uncomfortable, not scared or
sad.  There was darkness in it.  She reminded me of me.  Before.

I
had so many questions, and this Reaper may have been the first demon I’d
encountered here who had no reservations about even looking at me, let alone being
honest with me.  I wanted to ask how she became a Reaper, if Reapers were once
human.  Where had she lived?  Who had she been before changing over?  Did she
like being a Reaper?

But
there wasn’t time for those things, so I asked instead, “do they hurt?”

“Yes.”

I
jolted.  “Are you in pain?”

“Not
that kind of pain,” she whispered, then walked away.

Mystified,
I stared after her.  Absently, I picked up the cup that the female had filled,
and raised it to my lips.

“I
wouldn’t,” Rowan said, and his hand was on my wrist, coaxing my arm down again.

Grayson
downed his glass, and was picking items off the trays with his fingers,
stuffing his mouth.  Since we were alone, even Cyrus reached over and snagged a
few things from a tray, though he took smaller bites than Grayson and chewed a
few times before swallowing.

Turning
around, I asked, “why not?”

“You
won’t like it.”

“How
do you know?”

Though
he hesitated, fighting a smile, he released my wrist and amended his wording.  “I
doubt you’ll like the taste.”

Eyes
narrowed, suddenly feeling the annoyance of being entirely dependent upon three
males since we got here, I lifted the cup and took a gulp.

It
was a mistake.

I almost
choked as I gagged on the putrid stuff.  It burned my tongue and singed my
throat on the way down, made my lips pucker from tartness, then shudder from
its sickening sweetness.

When
the worst of it passed, I looked over my shoulder at Rowan, who said everything
he wanted to with his expression.  At least his face had expression now that we
were alone, no longer under the watchful eye of the Underrealm. 

I
nodded, as if he’d said what he was thinking out loud.  “Curiosity abated.”

Surprise
shot through his eyes, like he had expected me to be angry, then was replaced
with those shards of white gold that made my belly ache with desire. 

One
look and this male could drive me crazy.  What would it be like if he touched
me?  And didn’t pull away?