Page 27 of The Arcane God

Chapter Eleven

Greya

Greya made her way down to the dank cellar underneath her house. It had been several days since she’d been down here last, but she and the other Auster witches had decided to leave the daemon to stew while they dealt with their own. The injured, the dead…

Daria’s slack face flashed through Greya’s mind, and the echo of her mother’s scream followed.

The Coven had been reeling with grief since the attack, both for the loss of life that had occurred, and the destruction of the Sacred Grove. Some of the trees had been damaged by fire, wind, and cracking earth. She wasn’t sure it would ever be the same, and the sadness over that was almost as severe as the lost lives.

This man—this daemon—had claimed he’d wanted none of it, that he was a friend of Ena and Ty, but still…he’d been there. He’d stood by and done nothing while the others had killed and destroyed.

So no, she didn’t trust him one bit, and she’d left him to rot. He’d had food and water, of course—she wasn’t that cruel—but otherwise, only darkness as his company for almost a week, and she would’ve left him that way indefinitely if she could’ve. But she couldn’t put it off any longer.

It was her duty as matriarch to deal with him. She wouldn’t show him mercy if his death became necessary. But first…she needed to speak with him. If he had useful information about what the King of the Underworld was up to, then she needed to hear it. Her sister’s safety always came first, and now that Ty was her husband, that extended to him too.

She climbed down the dark, wooden staircase and moved to the small, windowless room where they normally kept their cold storage foods. They’d quickly moved things to others’ houses before depositing the daemon here, but it still smelled strongly of garlic.

She paused for a second outside the door, readying herself, before she spoke:

{Clavis}

The bolt hidden inside the door slid to the side, and the door creaked open. She lifted up her candle to the darkness, revealing a large man crouched in the corner. Now that she was inside, she could smell another overwhelming scent, coming from the chamber pot they’d given him which rested in the corner opposite him. She did not revel in the indignity of it all.

His eyes met hers, black and unforgiving as they reflected the candlelight. “Come to speak with me at last, matriarch?” he asked. His voice was not menacing, nor taunting, as she would expect. Instead, it was almost…understanding.

“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly, not exactly sure what to do with that. “It’s time for you to make yourself useful, after all you’ve put our Coven through.”

The two of them stared at each other—will to will—but the daemon didn’t back down or cower. He just seemed resigned, and ready to move forward.

“I’ll tell you what I know,” he offered. “As I said, I never wanted any of this to happen.”

“So you say, but you’ll forgive me if I’m reticent to believe a word that comes out of your mouth, even with my Knowing. Daemons are known for their trickery and lies.”

“And witches don’t lie?” The man laughed, his chuckle dark and sarcastic. “You’ll forgive me if I find your moral high ground laughable, after all witches have done.”

Greya nearly flinched, but she stopped herself. She couldn’t let the fact that his words affected her show. Because he was correct. Witches had lied. And their lies had been most damning.

“You say you’re Ty’s friend,” she said, changing the subject back to business. “And you know of my sister?”

“Yes. Ty is my best friend, and I met your sister when she came to the Underworld with him. My name is Steig. They may have mentioned me. If they were here?” he asked.

Greya didn’t recognize his name, but Ena, Ty, and Turner hadn’t been here that long. It was entirely possible they just hadn’t had time to mention him.

“They were. They came here to break the bond, as I’m sure you’re already aware, given the changes to our magic,” she responded. “Which begs the question…why were you not with them? If you’re as good of friends as you say.”

Steig swallowed, sadness—maybe regret?—crossing his face. “I had to stay behind. My wife, my children…I couldn’t leave them,” he said simply.

It was a bit harder to read his intentions in the dark, but her Knowing told her he was being sincere—there were no signs of lying, and his emotions seemed deep and genuine.

“So why did you come now?” she asked.

“As I said, I was sent by the king to capture Ty and Ena and bring them back for…punishment. Because of what they did.”

“The king knows of your friendship with Ty, and yet he sent you here to capture them? Why would he do that?”

“To prove my loyalty, of course. I’m united with his daughter.”

“United?” Greya asked, confused with the use of the word.