Page 114 of Endless Terrors
“You asked about my Darkening. It was rude of me not to answer.”
I turned toward him, staring past all those tormented statues. There was still a figure standing in the doorway, but it wasn’t Asmodeus anymore. I recognized the newcomer immediately, and my jaw dropped.
It was the soul from the Lowlands.
Still wearing my Lowland guide’s face, Asmodeus winked. “The gargoyles like me, too. They told me where to find you. I couldn’t resist having a little fun while I escorted the infamous Fortuna Sworn back to my brother.”
“You little—” I started, stepping forward.
He waggled his fingers, and the doors slammed shut.
Later, I would look back and think it was funny how quickly things could change.
When Heilel and I left the Second City, soaring high above the dangers of his world, I rested against him and felt calm. Safe. Almost … happy. Heilel and I had found a delicate balance, and our strange life together worked. We worked, as long as he didn’t pull me over the line between us and I didn’t try to see what was hidden on his side.
But that night, I had a nightmare.
It was the beginning of the end.
Maybe Samael’s leering face had triggered it. Maybe it was seeing Asmodeus’s features change. Whatever the reason, whatever the thing was that caused it, the damage was irreparable. A rupture opened inside of me and terror came pouring out.
I fell asleep in Heilel’s arms … and woke up in Belanor’s.
“Hello, darling,” he said, peering down at me with a pleasant expression. “Sleep well?”
Manacles bit into my wrists as I tried to recoil. Belanor got out of the bed calmly, striding over to the chair where he liked to drink his tea. I watched him, my chest heaving and my breath coming in ragged, frantic gulps. I was back in that gilded room at the Seelie Court, weak as a human again, powerless against the terrible things Belanor had planned for me.
No sooner did I have the thought when Fende appeared on the other side of the bed, a giant, faceless hulk. He bent over and yanked me onto my stomach, a bright poker in his hand.
“No!” I screamed, clawing at anything I could grab onto. “No!”
A moment later, I could smell my own flesh burning, and then I could hear it, too. Like the sizzle and hiss of burgers on the grill. I pushed my face into the mattress and screamed.
Suddenly I was choking on sand. Suddenly I was surrounded by the dull roar of a crowd cheering for my death.
I lifted my head just as a new sound reached my ears. It was like thunder. Then the memory clicked into place, and I remembered I wasn’t alone in this arena.
I whirled at the same moment Finn threw himself on top of me. I didn’t even have a chance to say his name before the werewolf lowered his head and began to rip me apart.
The agony was indescribable, but somehow I found the strength to reach up in a feeble attempt to stop him, to plead, to remind him that I was Fortuna and he loved me and—
“Fortuna!”
My eyes snapped open, my mouth still gaping in a silent cry. Heilel’s silhouette loomed over me, and his voice coaxed me the rest of the way out of the memory. I sat upright slowly, the hollow of my throat damp with perspiration. Heilel didn’t press me to speak. He sat near enough that I could touch him, if I wanted, or lean back and rest against his chest. But I didn’t move. I stared at the dying fire and saw Belanor’s taunting smile the last time I’d been downstairs.
Without saying anything to Heilel, I yanked the bedclothes aside and got up.
The dream had shaken something loose in me. I felt strange as I left the room and strode down the walkway, completely ignoring the guards that hurried after me. Just as I reached the elevator, Heilel appeared at my side. He was dressed now, and there was a robe in his hand. He held it out wordlessly, and for the first time since waking, I took note of what I was wearing. Right. I’d fallen asleep in a thin, short nightgown. I took the robe and pulled it on, securing the ties, then stepped onto the elevator. Heilel did the same and pressed the symbol that would bring us underground.
Ding. I got out the second the doors opened, plunging down the creepy passageway without hesitation. My bare feet slapped against the stones. I didn’t pause to think, or peer into any of the cells on either side of us. I knew exactly where to go. As if part of me had sensed I’d be coming back here, and that I would need to memorize the way.
One of the guards hurried to open the door for me. They’d put it together, apparently, or Heilel had warned them we’d be coming. I strode into the cell, and it felt like there was a low buzzing sound in my ears. Heilel said something to the guard before he followed me inside. I barely heard him; all my attention was on the far wall.
The faerie I’d dreamed about hung right where I’d left him. He’d been tortured recently, but not so recently that he was bleeding. His wounds had just started to close. His naked body dangled from the chains like a chicken on a spit, arms and wings spread wide. I knew for someone as proper as Belanor, the indignity of that alone must be torture. I committed the image to memory, knowing it would lull me to sleep for many nights to come.
To my surprise, Belanor didn’t say anything, or give me that taunting smile. Heilel’s demons had almost succeeded in breaking him, that much was obvious. If there was nothing left of his mind, it seemed pointless to do anything. The possibility sent a rush of sharp-edged fury through me. Standing there, glaring up at the faerie who had tortured me, I could finally admit the truth to myself.
I’d been thinking about doing this from the moment I first saw him in Hell.
