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“Listen to me very carefully, you insult to Demon-kind,” I hiss, my face inches from his. “She is mine. If you so much as think about her in that way again, I will peel the skin from your frame and hang it from the tram lines for the Scavengers to nest in. Do you understand?”
Kael’s eyes bulge, his hands coming up to grip my forearm. “Understood,” he wheezes. “Loud and clear, Mal. She’s—she's off-limits.”
I squeeze his throat just a fraction harder, letting him feel the absolute certainty of my threat, before a sudden smack connects with the back of my head.
I drop Kael, whirling around with a guttural growl, my fangs bared and ready to tear—only to find myself staring down at Litha’s silver-filigreed horns.
“None of that in my house, thank you,” she says sharply, smoothing the front of her gown. “You’ll damage the walls. Now, behave. Your mortal is ready.”
I take a breath, forcing some semblance of back into my veins, and turn toward the hallway, only for the air to leave my lungs in a single, silent rush.
Litha has stripped away my little summoners sheep pajamas and replaced them with something that looks like it was stolen from a mortal widow in mourning—a long, heavy skirt of charcoal velvet, a high-necked lace blouse that buttons tightly at her throat, and a boned corset.
“I have to go, Vesper,” she whispers, her voice small and trembling as she kneels by the velvet chair. She buries her face in the cat’s soft fur one last time, inhaling the scent of home before she has to step back into the smog. “Be good for the lady. I’ll come back. I promise.”
“The House-Beast is safe,” Litha affirms softly, placing a hand on Eden’s shoulder. “Go. Do what you must.”
Eden stands, her eyes swimming with a glossiness that makes my chest tighten.
“Don't you dare start leaking,” I huff, stepping forward and catching her chin. I use the pad of my thumb to smear a bit of the soot back over the now-clean line on her cheek. “Demons do not cry, Eden.”
I release her and turn to Kael, who’s still leaning against the wall, gingerly rubbing his plum-colored throat. I hold out my hand, palm up. I don't ask. I shouldn't have to.
He lets out a dry, hacking laugh. “The great Malachi, begging for scraps. How the mighty have tripped over their own shadows.”
“Now, Kael,” I growl. “Unless you'd like to see how those bruises feel on the inside of your windpipe.”
He sighs, reaching into his jacket, and tosses a small, greasy leather pouch right into my palm. When I pull the drawstring, I’m greeted with a dozen yellowed, cracked canines and a single incisor.
“That's it?” I hiss, looking at the pittance. “This wouldn't buy a decent meal.”
“It's all I've got that isn't nailed down, asshole,” Kael mocks, though he winces as he speaks.
I shove the pouch into my coat, giving him one last, lethal look over my shoulder before grabbing Eden’s hand and hauling her back out into my world.
Chapter 26
Eden
From where I’m huddled on a cold iron bench on the balcony, I can see everything. Every single surface is bathed in a bruised, violet luminescence that makes my eyes ache. The buildings ahead of me shouldn't even be able to stand—towering spires of obsidian and sleek, oily glass that reach up toward a sky with no stars. Instead of constellations, there are only swirling nebulas of deep indigo trapped between rusted metal beams that span the horizon like a cage.
Down there, in the maze of back-alley houses that look like huddled, skeletal ribs, Vesper is with Litha. I try to picture my cat curled up on some demonic rug, and the thought makes my throat tight with a weirdly specific grief. I just have to hope Litha cares for her. I have to believe Vesper is fine—being doted on by a demon, being hand-fed flank steak and getting petted with exactly the right amount of pressure behind the ears.
I can’t stop thinking about Piper either… God, is she even okay back home? I can almost feel the phantom buzz of my phone in my pocket, even though there’s no signal here—I’ve checked, multiple times. Is she still unconscious and alone in her car? Maybe she got to my apartment and broke the door down, only to find the candles and blood littering the table and made some wild assumptions of her own.
Am I a missing person now? Is there a grainy photo of me on the news? Is Vesper’s picture plastered on telephone poles back in a world where the sky is actually blue?
The thought makes my stomach lurch. I want to puke. Again. I’ve already emptied my system at least four times in the few hours we’ve been here, and there’s nothing left but bitter bile and a hollow, shaking dread that makes my marrow feel like slush.
The glass door slides open behind me with a metallic screech.
“The temperature’s dropping, and your constitution is already pathetic,” Malachi murmurs. “Go inside, Eden.”
“I’m fine,” I say, not moving an inch, though my knuckles are white against the dark velvet of the skirt. “The air feels good.”
I’m not lying about that part—it isn’t stifling up here like it was down in those streets. It’s smoother up here, like a soft summer breeze, it just smells a little… funkier.
Obviously I’m omitting the fact that part of not wanting to go back in is because I can hear the wet thumping of demons fucking in the room next door, the sounds of their groans drifting out through the vents of this absolute shit-hole of a motel. It’s one of the most disgusting places I’ve ever been in my life—a janky, roadside dive in the middle of Hell where the bed sags and the surfaces are stained with crusted pools of something.
