Ruled by Steel (The Ascension Series #3) (20 page)

“I’m surprised in more ways than one.”

“I keep forgetting you’re not an actual…” Jerica trailed off, as if she had decided better than to finish the sentence. She cleared her throat. “You’re not native. Say you’re a hellborn demon, a landowner, and you fall in love with a human slave. You want the slave to have legal rights, the ability to inherit, safety from resale, whatever. The only way to relinquish ownership without putting your slave up for auction again is to marry her.”

No wonder the guards had been laughing. They had been mocking Jerica for falling in love with her property. “So we’re about to get married,” Elise said. “Inter-species and same-sex. That’s…progressive.”

Jerica shrugged. “The fundies always said we’d go to Hell for this. Guess they were right.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Okay, let’s go to the library. They’re watching.”

The visitors’ path to the library took a long, circuitous route around the outside of the nobles’ quarters. A lot of the rooms seemed to be unoccupied; through open curtains, Elise could see empty rooms. The few that were occupied had the curtains drawn. Elise could see magic glimmering on the windows out the corners of her eyes.

Though the nobles weren’t there, the guards were. It seemed like all of the demons that were missing from Dis had found their way into the Palace. It wasn’t just nightmares, either; there were fiends, brutes, a handful of megaira.

“We’ll have to take the public entrance to the library,” Jerica said, moving for the left-hand fork in the path that led to another door flanked by guards. A smaller door to the right was unwatched. Its sign said “Librarians Only.” That was the one that Elise approached. “Wait, where are you going?”

The lock clicked once she was within arm’s reach. The hinges groaned as the door swung open for her. Triumph coursed through Elise’s veins—she was still a skeleton key.

“How’d you do that?” Jerica asked.

“Magic.”

Jerica rolled her eyes.

The staff entrance opened into the rear of the library chamber, which occupied the entire bottom half of the Palace’s north tower. The floor was made of frosted crystal. Below, there were stacks without any obvious door for access; above, the tall shelves faded into darkness. Catwalks ringed the shelves at regular intervals.

Several desks stood in the center of the crystalline floor. Most of them were facing the public entrance. The one in the back was aimed toward the second door—and the librarian who sat at it looked like she had been waiting for them. She wore heavy orange robes. A goat’s muzzle protruded from underneath the hood, even though the hands folded on her ledger were tiny, pale, and eerily human.

“Sit down,” the librarian said to Elise, gesturing to the chair on the other side of her desk.

“Who are you?” Elise asked.

“I am Onoskelis. Sit down.”

Jerica obeyed, and after a moment, Elise followed suit. The chairs were hard metal with bone accents that dug into the small of her back. She balanced herself gingerly on the edge.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Father,” Onoskelis said, writing rapidly without looking up. “I’ve expected a visit since the Inquisitor’s death.”

A chill rippled over Elise, and it wasn’t because of the cooled and slightly humid air in the library. Onoskelis recognized her. She knew that Elise was the daughter of the former Inquisitor, Isaac Kavanagh. And she knew what Elise had become.

Yet Onoskelis wasn’t raising any alarms. She was taking stationary out of her desk, continuing to write, her workflow unbroken by the visit.

“You have questions for me,” Onoskelis said.

“Actually, we came for a marriage license,” Jerica said brightly.

“Don’t bother,” Elise said. She addressed the librarian. “What are you telling me?”

“Nothing yet, but I know everything that happens in the Palace. Ask your questions.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you on my side?”

“My only interest is the integrity of the records,” Onoskelis said.

That was a no. But Elise thought back to Vassago’s ravaged office, and everything that had been missing. “Vassago was like you, wasn’t he? Do you know that he’s been killed and his offsite records stolen?”

“It was inevitable, given his foolish and irresponsible habit of taking work home,” Onoskelis said.

“I have some of the remaining papers.”

The goat’s lip peeled back, baring square teeth. “Do you?”

“I can give them to you,” Elise said, leaning forward and speaking in a low voice. “I’ll give you everything I have, and every book, scroll, or scrap of paper Abraxas has in his House.”

“Interesting that you feel the need to bargain when I have given no indication of requiring it.”

“Nothing is free.”

“Indeed,” Onoskelis said. She blew on the top sheet of the stationary and turned it so Elise and Jerica could see. It was the equivalent of a marriage license, and it already had both of their names on it—but not Elise’s real name. Beside Jerica’s name, it said “Bruce Kent,” which was Elise’s favorite pseudonym. She had no idea how Onoskelis could have known that. “Sign this. You’ll need it to leave without attracting attention.”

Elise signed under her pseudonym. When Jerica took the pen to sign her line, Onoskelis stood.

“Come with me,” she told Elise.

Jerica froze, pen poised over the paper, as if questioning whether or not she should follow.

The librarian walked away. She had a slight limp when she moved. As her robes swayed around her, Elise glimpsed hooves instead of feet.

When Onoskelis reached the bottom of the stairs, she stopped. “Coming?”

Elise hurried to catch up, leaving Jerica behind.

On the second floor, Onoskelis turned on a standing lamp by pressing a button on its base, then moved on. Elise gazed across the expanse of the library to see that there were mismatched lamps on every floor, and at the end of nearly every stack of books. Some were illuminated on the other side of the room, too, though Elise couldn’t see any reason why. There was more than adequate light coming from the sconces on the ground level.

As she followed Onoskelis deeper into the stacks and watched the librarian turn on more lamps, she realized that it was meant to be a way to find her way back. The shelves were dense, forming twisting paths deeper into the tower that soon obscured any sight of the stairs. If Powell’s Books had added a few dozen stories and sold books bound in human flesh, it would have looked very much like the Palace library.

The librarian staggered into the next room, selecting a book off of the shelf to the left.

“What do you think of Aquiel?” Elise asked.

“I think nothing of him at all. It’s been a long time without a Council, but Council control has been a historical exception, not the rule,” Onoskelis said, hugging the heavy tome to her chest. It was half as big as she was and its covers were buckled shut.

“So the conquering thing is more typical.”

“In recent history, yes. In the grand scheme of things, no.” Onoskelis limped back the way she came, brushing past Elise.

Instead of heading back down, Onoskelis took Elise along the catwalks, climbing higher and higher. They were alone up there, far above the guards and the other librarians. Jerica was a tiny figure seated at Onoskelis’s desk.

They entered a small, quiet workroom set off of the catwalk. A desk with a box of empty book covers waited for them.

“Is Aquiel in the Palace now? How do I find him?” Elise asked.

“Those are the wrong questions.”

Annoyance prickled through her. “Tell me the right ones.”

“I could tell you that the Palace defenses are bound to the blood of the standing administration via soul links, much as the touchstones were once linked to the Treaty,” Onoskelis said. “At least three administration members must bleed to change the links. Their replacements need not be members of the Palace’s current occupying force—blood is blood. The old magics can’t tell the difference.” Onoskelis set the heavy book on the table and opened the lock. “Aquiel is not here, but you would be unable to assassinate him within the Palace if he were. The wards are soul linked to him—Aquiel’s, and that of his two favored generals. To harm them here would be suicide.”

“Unless I change the links first,” Elise said.

Onoskelis picked up the straight razor with delicate fingers. The motion of her arms was strangely smooth in comparison to her jerky, staggering walk. With a flick, her sleeves slid back to her elbows, baring delicate wrists. “The records Vassago took home detailed how to change the links, how to operate the Palace magics, weaknesses in the defenses. He was a fool to think that might give him leverage against the administration.”

“Do you know the specifics of those records?”

“Again, that is the wrong question.” Onoskelis slashed the razor down the open page of the book, separating it cleanly from the bindings. It seemed strange, almost obscene, for her to so casually tear the book apart.

Elise grew impatient. “So I need to get the blood of Aquiel and his two ‘favored generals’ to link the Palace to me and
my
favored generals. Who else is bound to the Palace? Is one of them Belphegor?”

“Yes,” Onoskelis said.

The simplicity of the answer surprised her. Elise frowned. That ruled out finding Belphegor and destroying him from a distance with one of James’s spells.

“You’ll be interested to know that the route to the soul links is perilous for those such as yourself,” Onoskelis went on. “The path is fraught with wards that shatter semi-corporeal demons. You and your new wife cannot enter.”

The librarian folded the pages she had removed into one of the leather covers, tying them with a cord so that they could be carried without falling apart. It formed a book much smaller than the original tome. She placed it into Elise’s hand.

“I look forward to the restoration of my library,” Onoskelis said. “We’ll talk more then. I trust this has been helpful?”

Obscure as Onoskelis had been, she had proven very helpful indeed. But one more question struck Elise, and she called out to the librarian before she could leave the study room. “Is there any cure for ichor poisoning?”

She wasn’t sure what the contraction of Onoskelis’s facial muscles was meant to indicate. Elise had never done well at reading emotions, and a goat-headed demon was hardly any easier. “Ichor poisoning?” the librarian asked.

“Yeah, a poison that came from the mother of all demons. She could infect people and objects with her ichor. It turns everything into stone, like the mountains here. Have you ever heard of it?”

“Everything I know is in this library,” Onoskelis said, “but everything in this library is not known to me. I know nothing about what you ask.”

Damn
.

Elise turned the new, smaller book over in her hands, wondering what Onoskelis might have given her. Secrets to turning over the Palace? A key to Aquiel’s weakness? “What are the right questions?” Elise asked. It was meant to be rhetorical, but the librarian stopped in the doorway.

“The question you’ll want to ask yourself,” Onoskelis said, “is how demons travel when the surface streets are too dangerous.” Her face twisted into what might have been a smile or a grimace. “You may also wonder why a House with a mine does not store minerals in its warehouse.”

Elise frowned. “Do you mean…?”

But Onoskelis was already staggering away, hooves ringing out against the tile. She left Elise standing among the stacks, alone with segments of a history book and a lot of questions.

The House of Abraxas did have a mine. But Elise hadn’t seen any of the mine’s output on Neuma’s inventory.

She also hadn’t felt Belphegor leave the House…because he hadn’t left at all.

“How do you
feel about running the Palace?” Elise muttered to Jerica under her breath as they walked out of the library. Onoskelis’s book felt heavy in her back pocket. The guards didn’t notice that they had left with more than they had entered with; if there were spells meant to keep books in the library, Onoskelis had turned them off.

“Sounds like an organizational nightmare, no pun intended,” Jerica said. She was twirling their rolled-up marriage license between two of her long fingers like a baton.

“It can’t be much worse than running a casino or the House of Abraxas.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re hinting that you want me to be responsible for something terrifying. We’ll have to discuss it later.” She dropped her voice to a low hiss. “Sometime when we’re
not
in the belly of the enemy.”

She had a point. Elise glanced up at the walls. They were seething with nightmares.

“Why aren’t you with them?” Elise asked. Jerica gave her a questioning look. “Aquiel’s the Prince of Nightmares. Why stick with me? Why not fight on his side?”

“Neuma,” she said. She leaned close to Elise’s ear and added at a whisper, “Plus, Aquiel’s a dick. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Elise began to follow her toward the visitors’ entrance again, beyond which lay Damnation Square. But when she stepped into the flesh gardens, the sight of construction on the new tower caught her eye.

The new tower wasn’t part of the secure area. Too many creatures were moving in and out of it, carrying supplies up and construction waste down. The bridge looked even more impressive now that Elise was standing underneath it. The latticework of metal allowing it to stretch toward the fissure seemed impossibly frail, almost physically impossible, yet the crystalline bridge didn’t sway in the wind.

Maybe something so fragile could be destroyed by a single determined demon.

Elise wanted to get a closer look.

“Wait a second,” she told Jerica.

She slipped into the door at the base of the tower. Half of the first floor was a broad staircase wide enough to accommodate a hundred people walking side-by-side. The other half looked somewhat like a hotel lobby that was supervised by tall, skeletal demons with black pits for eyes. Elise wasn’t the only person in the tower that wasn’t working. Plenty of demons were watching. They were well dressed in the trashy Earth way—the bourgeoisie of Hell supervising the fruits of their investment.