Ruled by Steel (The Ascension Series #3) (23 page)

“This is a room that the Talamh Coven designed to contain prisoners,” James said.

“Prisoners?”

“Believe it or not, the White Ash Coven is not the only coven that has enemies. Specifically, werewolves. They were a serious problem here thirty years ago. Everything’s been reinforced with magic and steel. I think you’ll find that nothing you do will allow you to break out of the room.” James peered through the narrow window at the moss-green walls and lushly carpeted floor. “It’s not a terrible place to be incarcerated.”

Anthony didn’t seem to agree. He went back to the window and started trying to pry it open.

“That was impressive fighting on the ship,” James said. “Very impressive.”

“I’ve been training,” Anthony said, muscles straining as he pushed against the locked window.

“With Elise?”

“Why? Jealous?”

He was. James was fiercely jealous of the men that Elise allowed to be in her life.

“No,” James said. “Frankly, Anthony, I’m shocked that you would try to kill me without any idea why I’ve been doing what I’m doing. It’s very ruthless, coming from Betty’s cousin.”

Invoking Betty’s memory filled Anthony’s face with hatred. “Yeah, well, we live in a ruthless world,” he spat. Anthony and James had always been somewhat at odds over Elise—even when James had been trying to hide his feelings, even when Elise had denied that there was anything between them, Anthony had always known that there was more to their relationship than met the eye.

But this wasn’t jealousy. This was a murderous fury. The anger of a man who was horrified by the Breaking, and believed that he was looking at the sole cause of the Second War.

James sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I have an estranged son. Did you know that?”

“Nathaniel,” Anthony said through gritted teeth.

“Yes. Nathaniel. He’s an incredible witch and an incredible human being. Are you aware of the role he played in Elise’s escape from the garden?”

“She doesn’t talk about it,” Anthony admitted.

That was no surprise. “As a consequence of saving Elise, Nathaniel is trapped in Eden. Whatever you think of me, whatever you think of my cause—there’s an innocent young man who needs to be saved, and I won’t stop until I save him.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Furthermore, Nathaniel and I together will be capable of stopping this war. He’s a better witch than I am. With both of us in Eden, we’ll be able to save everyone.”

Anthony finally gave up on pulling at the window. He laughed disbelievingly. “I can’t believe you’re on about this ‘I’m a selfless savior’ bullshit. If that was all you were doing, you wouldn’t need to be stopped and you know it. This doesn’t have anything to do with your son. This is all about
you
and the power you think you deserve.” He stepped up to the window, glaring at James through it. “I’m going to get out of here. I will stop you.”

“In that case, if you have any reasons why I shouldn’t kill you first—right here, right now—I’d love to hear them.”

Anthony’s eyes flashed. “Go ahead. Do it. Maybe that’s what Elise needs to get around to fixing the problem, since killing Seth wasn’t enough to make you realize what a douchebag you are.”

“I didn’t kill him,” James said. Not directly, anyway.

But he could see from Anthony’s expression that it wasn’t what he had meant. Anthony hadn’t been saying that James had killed Seth.

Elise had killed him.

An
oh shit
look flashed over his face before being quickly smoothed away, but that instant was enough. Anthony had thought that James already knew.

James raked a hand through his hair, staring at the shadow of rain on the wall.
Jesus
. If Elise had been the one to kill Seth… No wonder she was in Hell. She wasn’t being merely brave. She was being self-destructive. Elise had never killed an innocent before.

Sheila finally came inside, shaking the rain from her jacket. She didn’t look surprised to see James outside the bedroom door. “Caught the kopis already?” she asked, joining him by the window.

James shook off his growing sense of dread. “Exactly as promised,” he said. “Sheila, this is Anthony Morales. Anthony, this is Sheila. You’ll be a guest of the Talamh Coven for an indefinite length of time, so be polite. Sheila’s more likely to kill you than I am.”

“Don’t scare the lad.” She gave Anthony a small smile through the window. “Although he does speak the truth. I’ll kill you if I must. Don’t give me a reason.”

James rubbed his hands together. “Great. Now that we’re done with that—thank you for your help, Sheila. I’ll see you when I return.”

“Wait, where are
you
going?” Anthony asked, pressing himself to the window.

Sheila handed James a jacket borrowed from one of the other witches, and he pulled it on, buttoning it up the front. “I’m leaving to selfishly pursue the power I think I deserve,” James said.

Twelve

Lincoln Marshall was
in the Palace of Dis. He was in charge of the nightmares.

Everything was much, much worse than Elise had expected.

Her mind whirled as she hurried down the stairs again, caught up in memory. It made sense. She should have seen it before. The nightmare possessing Lincoln was named Judy, somewhat ironically—ergo the bodies being signed with J, a heart, and mutilated to resemble an animal attack. And Lincoln had been trying to let Abraxas onto Earth.

Yeah, she should have known, but she hadn’t.

Probably because she hadn’t wanted to.

“Hey! Wait right there!”

Elise froze on the stairs halfway down the new tower, caught between two steps.

She had slipped away from the bridge unseen and hightailed it down the massive staircase, hoping to grab Jerica, make a quick escape, and plan their next move with Neuma. But she had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she had been sloppy. She had gotten lazy.

And
he
had seen her.

Elise turned slowly to face the approaching trio. There were two nightmares. She felt cold to realize that one of them was a survivor of the attack outside the auction. She didn’t recognize the second. But the man in the middle—oh, hell yes, did she recognize Lincoln Marshall, blood and contusions and all.

He looked good in slave leather. The snug trousers accentuated the musculature of his hips and thighs. The jacket made his football player shoulders look even wider. But there was nothing attractive about the bleeding eyes. Even Elise had her limits.

The fact that he was wearing Devadas’s second hand at his belt like a trophy didn’t help, either.

“What are you doing in this part of the tower?” Lincoln asked, seizing her arm. Every instinct told her to break his grip, punch him in the nose, snap a kick at his temple, and watch him drop. She forced herself to be still.

He didn’t recognize her. She’d had sex with him, fed off of his energies to heal herself, spent the night in his bed, and he didn’t recognize her. Or, to be more precise, Judy didn’t recognize her. Stupid name for a stupid demon.

He shook her again. “Answer me!”

“I came to marry my master,” Elise said. She couldn’t make herself sound obsequious, so she settled for keeping her eyes lowered. The same behavior that had gotten her into the House of Abraxas in the first place. Even without looking at his face, she could see Devadas’s hand dangling at his belt, the fingers shriveled and scales peeling.

“Who’s your master?”

Shit
. They hadn’t picked an identity for Jerica. If Lincoln were familiar with the slave owners in the city, giving her real name would be a dead giveaway that they didn’t belong. Elise searched her memory for the names of the demons at the auction. “Gretchen,” she said after a too-long pause.

Lincoln gave a feminine laugh that didn’t suit the square masculinity of his face. It was his voice, but Judy’s derision. “And where is your wife now?”

“We got separated,” Elise said. “I’m lost.”
Don’t meet his eyes…

He roughly pulled her off the stairs onto the eighth floor of the tower, which was still under construction. The right-hand wall was complete, but the left was not, and it opened directly onto a bridge leading to the west tower.

“I’ll help you find your wife, mortal,” he said.

The nightmares laughed. Elise thought about making them eat Taser and how satisfying the explosions would be.

“Have fun,” said one of the nightmares.

They didn’t follow as Lincoln led Elise onto the bridge. She realized with a sort of detached annoyance that Lincoln must have been hungry after his trip to Earth and was going to feed off of her—or try to, anyway. She was immune to the fear nightmares could generate. He would realize what was happening as soon as he attempted it.

She didn’t plan to let him get that far.

But being led away on her own suited her perfectly. She tried to visualize the exorcism rune James had used on her before in her mind, shaping its curves as clearly as possible. She didn’t have one now, but she knew how to make them. If she could get a pen and paper—maybe even just ink or blood or anything else she could draw with—she could make one. She could purge Judy from Lincoln’s body.

The wind on the bridge was punishingly hard, but it felt as good as sinking into a hot bubble bath. Lincoln looked at her expectantly as he pulled her across. He was waiting to see her discomfort, hoping that the burn of Dis’s air would fill her with fear.

Elise kept her gaze on her feet.

Beyond the bridge, she could see the grounds hundreds of feet below. Jerica was down there somewhere. And beneath her, there would be the soul links that bound the Palace to Aquiel.

She let herself glance at Lincoln’s jacket. It was snug across his chest. He had lost some of his muscle during his long months under demonic possession, but he was still extremely pleasant to look at. He had ranking pins on his collar. They looked like they had been taken off of the last type of Palace livery. He had the pins and uniforms of the Inquisitor—the same high-prestige role her father had filled before his death.

She dropped her eyes again.

“It’s a long way down,” Lincoln said. “It would be a shame if you fell.”

Elise didn’t reply.

“Doesn’t that frighten you?” he asked.

“No, sir,” she said.

He laughed.

Elise waited until they stepped out of the wind again, entering the halls of the west tower, and then she attacked.

Wrenching her arm out of Lincoln’s grip, she clasped her fists together and swung. She connected with the back of his head. It was a calculated move—one that would bounce Lincoln’s delicate human brain against the inside of his skull and drop him instantly, if only for a moment.

He had no warning. He didn’t even cry out.

Lincoln crumpled.

A gong rang out in Elise’s skull. A coppery tang flooded her mouth as she staggered, clapping her hands over her ears.

It felt like shooting at the wards on the House of Abraxas. Was her House under attack? No—she shouldn’t have felt it so acutely at that distance.

The pain had been triggered by punching Lincoln.

She fingered the ranking marks on his lapel. He hadn’t just taken the position of Inquisitor. He was Aquiel’s second general—the third soul linked to the Palace’s protections.

Good to know, but frustrating. Exorcising him was going to hurt like a bitch for both of them.

Elise wrapped her arm around his throat, glancing around them to make sure the hall was empty before dragging him away. She found the nearest apartment door that wasn’t marked with the name of an occupant and yanked him inside.

The quarters for nobility were as plush as anything in Hell: wooden furniture, down comforters, human oil lamps, and all the fiend-skin parchment one could ever want to write on. They were meant to be comfortable enough for human visitors, and the decorations were fairly recent, since the Council’s attempts to make Dis a tourist-friendly location had only begun about thirty Earth years prior.

But plush in Hell was still functionally nightmarish. There were chains on the wall of the tile-floored bathroom opposite the shower stall.
Very
cozy décor.

Elise tied Lincoln up as he began to rouse, thrashing against her. “You stupid bitch—”

“Shut up,” she said, slapping him hard enough across the face to make his bottom lip split open.

She was prepared for the pain this time. It felt very much like slapping herself. Elise’s vision blurred, and she had to brace an arm against the wall to keep standing.

He jerked against the chains, straining to get at her, but she just tightened the shackles around his wrists and stepped back. His struggles were violent. It must have hurt. But she wasn’t inflicting them, so she didn’t feel any of it.

“I’ll kill you
and
your master,” Lincoln spat.

Elise yanked Devadas’s hand off of his belt. It was dry and hard. She shoved it in her pocket. “Haven’t figured it out yet?”

He kicked his legs out, forcing her to take another step back. It wasn’t enough to make him break free.

She stepped out of the bathroom. Lincoln shouted after her. “We have laws about slaves like you. You’ll be skinned in the square. They’ll rape you. They’ll throw you in the grinders while you’re still alive!”

“I told you to shut up,” Elise called over her shoulder as she grabbed parchment and a stick of charcoal off the desk. What had that exorcism rune looked like? She sketched it out lightly—circle, two intersecting lines, a triangle…

Chains jangled wildly in the bathroom. Maybe loudly enough that someone passing in the hallway would be able to hear it.

She drew faster, heart speeding.

Lincoln’s roar echoed through the apartment. “I’ll violate your every orifice!”

“Because
that
would be new,” Elise muttered under her breath.

Fuck, she couldn’t quite remember the rune. She reached out to James on Earth, opening her mind a fraction, and realized that she couldn’t see him.

James had put his warding ring back on.