Page 56 of Blood Oath
Crypt goes stock still, fixating on my mouth. I realize this is probably the first time I’ve slipped up and actually smiled around him. I wipe the expression away quickly, feigning boredom as I try my best to navigate to the phone section of the newfangled device.
Then the Nightmare Prince tenses and my attention skips down to where several of his markings light up in a soft purple light. He’s dressed in a ripped T-shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket that all start to drift slightly with his hair as if he’s underwater. It looks like he’s listening to something far away, with his head tipped, and then he grumbles something I can’t make out and disappears back into Limbo. I no longer feel his presence a second later.
Interesting. Something to do with Limbo?
I’ve never considered what he does when he’s there. Of all the layers of existence, I’ve only studied three extensively, and Limbo certainly wasn’t one of them. I have no idea what the Nightmare Prince does with his time.
I remind myself that I don’t care—because right now is the perfect window to call the black market dealer.
Silas laid a lot of protection on my door, but if Crypt could overhear my moment earlier through the door, I can’t risk someone else coming along and listening through the wards to my conversation. So I leave Everbound Castle using a virtually unused ancient hallway not far from my dorm and slip away from the university grounds into the forest.
As I near my favorite spot in Everbound Forest, I take a deep breath and dial the number.
It only rings once before he answers.
“I don’t get unknown calls,” the voice rasps. “So how the fuck did ya get this number? And if this is Kevin, I’m gonna hunt you down, rip your head off, and?—“
“Boring. Pick a different threat.”
A long pause. “Ex-fucking-scuse me?”
“Ripping heads off is outdated. Try something else. Testicles, maybe. Whoever Kevin is, he probably values those over his head anyway,” I muse, side-stepping what looks to be a legacy’s skeleton on the ground. Probably someone who didn’t survive a combat class. “As for where I got your number, there are a few loose-jawed drunks who frequent the Twisted Tavern in Halfton. You might want to snuff them out for tossing your number around so freely.”
There’s another long moment before I can hear a smile in his rough voice. “Fuck me with a pitchfork, I thought you were a myth. Telum. That’s what they call you, right?”
I’ve always hated that nickname, so I decide to move on. “Are you still in Pennsylvania?”
“Infernal hells, you’re really her.” He sounds baffled before he cackles on the other end, apparently not as ready to move on from introductions as I am. “You’re real! And—no. Don’t tell me…you’re at Everbound University? Ha! Devils and dicks, I can’t even believe it. This is too damn funny.”
“Hysterical,” I agree flatly, stepping through the trees into the clearing I set out for. It has a small semi-frozen pond and plenty of silence, except for right now when he won’t shut up. “I need nightshade root powder.”
That finally gets through to him, and he stops laughing. “Tall order for someone I just barely met. Look, I don’t make deals without really gettin’ to know who I’m dealing with first, kid.”
I let my voice steel into a calm tone I’ve rarely had to use throughout my life. “We just established that you know exactly who I am. And I know exactly who you are, Melchom.”
He makes a choking sound. Probably because for a demon like him, someone else knowing your true name is both taboo and humiliating. If I was interested in getting mixed up in demonology, discovering his name would be the first step in gaining power over him.
“How the flaming shitballs did you—okay. Relax. Look, I’ll get the nightshade root powder, but it’ll cost you a helluva lot.”
“Name your price.”
Melchom chuckles, but it still sounds a bit strained. “I don’t want money, but seeing as how you are who you are, maybe you’d be interested in a trade? A gram of nightshade root powder for, oh, I don’t know, say…a still-beating heart.”
A gram of nightshade root powder will be just enough for what I need to do.
“Whose heart?”
“Does it matter?” he laughs. “If the rumors are true, this should be a cakewalk for you.”
I pause, glaring out at the frozen pond. Along with a few other types of uncommon monsters like changelings and banshees, demons are one of the monsters that were never allowed in the mortal realm in any legal capacity. Demons are hunted constantly and are nasty to everyone, but tend to be especially cruel toward legacies…and innocents, whose fear they prey on.
I don’t kill innocents. But he can’t know that. No one can know that, despite how fucked up I am, I still have that one rule.
“Give me a name,” I press.
He exhales long and slow, the sound of someone smoking. “So eager. Seriously, I can’t believe I’m actually talking to the telum. Whatcha look like, anyway? You as sexy as you sound? Maybe I should up my price a bit...”
“Shall we revisit my ripping-off-testicles suggestion?”
