Page 71 of Endless Terrors
I frowned at the demon in confusion, mentally turning those words over. The Hunt.
Something in my mind clicked. I thought of the mysterious figure who’d led me to Creiddylad’s tomb. I heard my father’s frantic warning. That wasn’t me, in your dream, do you understand?
But the hunt for Creiddylad wasn’t years ago; it was only a few months. Then I remembered how time moved differently in Hell.
So it had been Lucifer in that dream.
Until this moment, I had never truly considered why he’d intervened. I didn’t believe Roger’s story about Lucifer having a heart, or giving a shit about what happened to me. He’d probably been desperate to save my body.
It also meant that Lucifer had been watching me for years. I thought of that creepy closet again, full of clothing perfectly tailored to my measurements, and held back a shudder.
“Are you cold, my lady?”
Now I swallowed an annoyed sigh. Demon or not, I couldn’t take this my lady shit anymore. “Roger, you can just call me Fortuna. Please,” I added.
“Oh, my lady, that’s so kind. But I could never do you the dishonor.”
I was about to argue just as Roger slowed, making me realize that we’d arrived. I recognized the door from when I’d come here with Blondie. This time, there was a single guard outside it. When I got a good look at him, I hid the startled leap in my throat. Like Blondie, the guard was beautiful, almost fae in appearance … but with one major caveat.
He had scales instead of skin.
Tiny, sand-colored scales. He also had a strong jaw and dark eyes, and his inky hair curled boyishly against the back of his neck.
Politely ignoring my scrutiny, the guard nodded at Roger and opened the door for us, standing with one hand on the hilt of his sword, just as the other guard had.
As I moved over the threshold, Lucifer turned from his desk. I felt the devil’s power again, a forceful swell that made my skin tingle. He was dressed more casually today, the black suit exchanged for a blue, crewneck pullover that clung to every swell of muscle. I ignored the way my body reacted at the sight of him, and Lucifer politely pretended not to notice. But he was an original angel—his senses were so powerful that he could probably detect the slightest shift in my temperature, let alone hear the way my pulse had quickened. My face burned as he gestured at the scaled guard and said, “Lady Sworn, this is Dagan, my head of security.”
I looked over my shoulder and realized that Roger hadn’t followed me inside. Only Dagan stood there, his expression open and friendly. Despite his armor, he bent in a deep, fluid bow, and his voice was a pleasant rasp as he told me, “It is an honor.”
I frowned at the sincerity I sensed in him. Was it an act? And was I a complete fool for wanting to believe it? Yes, I decided. It wasn’t just foolish, it was idiotic. This was Hell, and no one could be trusted. Not creatures that seemed like nice old men, and certainly not courteous guards with kind eyes.
I turned my back on Dagan without saying anything.
While I’d been distracted, Lucifer had closed the distance between us. I jumped when I registered his proximity, but moving away felt like an admission of something, or revealing a weakness. So I forced myself to stay where I was, my head tipped back. I held my breath to avoid his heady scent. Lucifer peered down at me, his vivid eyes flicking over every detail. “You look well-rested. I’m glad. There are some that don’t survive the journey to my dimension,” he remarked.
What a cheery conversation starter. Too bad I wasn’t in the mood for small talk. “Is my brother awake, or not?” I asked curtly.
Lucifer didn’t miss a beat. “He is, yes. I’m sure you would still like your proof. It’s here in the tower, but we’ll need to go down a couple floors. Shall we?”
Those words. They were the equivalent of a trigger or a flash bomb. For an instant, I saw Laurie standing there. Silver hair instead of gold. Silver eyes instead of blue. His lips curved faintly, always on the verge of a smile. His voice soft and slow, as if he knew a secret no one else did. Shall we?
When the image faded, and Lucifer was the one in front of me again, I expected to feel a pang of loss. But I just felt steadier. More grounded. I met the devil’s gaze and said, “Let’s go.”
Two or three minutes later, we were in the atrium.
From this vantage point, the rock formations were even stranger. They stretched over our heads like naked, time-worn trees. My shoes made soft sounds against the path, but the deeper we moved into the room, the louder the water got, and it drowned out my footsteps.
When we reached the center and the space widened, I looked up, automatically seeking stars. Forgetting that this wasn’t Earth, and there was a ceiling between me and anything remotely familiar. As I stared at the smooth stone, I heard Oliver’s voice in my head, more familiar than any sky or song. The first thing we always do on a dark night is look up. Always.
I refocused and saw that Lucifer had gone to the edge of the water. His hair gleamed from the glow of a nearby light, which stood on a dark pole like a lamppost. The pool was round, and bigger than I’d thought. The ripples from the waterfall didn’t quite reach the edge. Lucifer reached down and picked up a small knife I hadn’t noticed. It had been resting on a stone, and the blade reminded me of the swords at the Unseelie Court. Clear, almost like glass. Without hesitation, Lucifer slid the edge through the fleshy part of his hand and held it over the water. He looked back at me, his lean, golden face shifting into the light. “There’s a mirror at the bottom,” he said.
My heart leaped. A mirror? Lucifer’s blood must activate a spell, I thought, my eyes darting to the water. I didn’t hesitate to get closer now, and I stared at the bottom of the pool. Just as Lucifer had said, I could see smooth, unbroken glass there, reflecting every ripple and fragment of light. I waited, practically holding my breath, as if I’d jinx the magic with a single intake of air.
Within seconds, Damon’s face appeared in the mirror.
“Oh,” I said faintly, exhaling in a rush. I didn’t mean to—the sound slipped out involuntarily—but I didn’t care. I put my hands on the rocks, using them for balance as I knelt down, wanting to get closer. The image was already changing. Damon must’ve been bending down, because he reappeared holding Matthew. I pressed a hand against my mouth and blinked rapidly. Oh, this was good. This was really good. My family was safe. They were okay, and together, and smiling. Nothing else mattered.
My blinding happiness dimmed as another thought occurred to me. What if this was a trick? What if the spell was only showing me what I wanted most, instead of reality?
