Gods and goddesses.
“How do you not hate me?” I asked.
He pulled away slowly, and I missed his warmth, his comfort. “This isn’t the time to talk.”
Chance couldn’t be happy about the demon summoning or the destruction of human souls, even bad ones. Who would be? Especially since we were in Sheol, the demon capital of the universe.
“But Kel…?”
His jaw tightened. “Obviously I’m unhappy about that. It’s a knife in my gut, imagining you with him.”
Embarrassment kept my cheeks hot; I shouldn’t have crumbled so fast. Maybe that spoke to my lack of fortitude—or it might be the unholy rock still at work in my head. Surely, though, he couldn’t have imagined I’d abstain. I mean, I never expected to see Chance again, let alone have him devoted to winning me back.
In silence, I linked my fingers together and studied the incredible vista rising before us. The city was…immense. Imagine the biggest human metropolis, like Mexico City or Tokyo, and then multiply it times two. Or four. A sense of spatial relationships wasn’t my strong suit. The point being, Xibalba was an enormous urban sprawl. The demon city looked like a baroque painting with round, classical lines, but a little too vivid, as if it was realer than anything else around it. That impression made me distrust my eyes.
Tall stone towers rose up from the city center, and a dark, sooty pall hung over everything. It might come from industry, I supposed, though that was an odd thought. Demons, working in factories, demon teamsters—and that sent my brain to places I’d better not go. If I started seeing demons as like humans, who had daily lives and went about them the best way they could, I’d lose the only surety I possessed—that they were the evil, the enemy, and must be vanquished at all costs. Shit. The possibility that all demons weren’t one hundred percent wicked was already lodged too deep to shake out. I was in so far over my head.
The carriage took us to the walls, where a guard stopped us. A magickal glow swirled around the stone, layers of protection when glimpsed through my witch sight. I cocked a brow at Greydusk while we waited our turn. There were numerous conveyances ahead of us, many of them Gothic or unlikely, straight out of a Tim Burton movie, and the denizens of said coaches were more exotic still.
“Do you see anything interesting about the fortifications?” the demon asked.
I squinted. The walls were really tall. I shrugged.
“No?” But the question made me wonder what I wasn’t seeing, so I switched to witch sight, and the walls glowed with scintillant color. “What’s that?”
“The light?” it asked.
I nodded.
“The Vortex. It keeps undesirables out.”
By which he meant monsters like the Gorder. I pointed. “And over there?”
It looked like a shantytown, shacks built out of scrap wood and stone. I glimpsed shambling figures, but they were too far away to make out details. Please don’t let that be a human slave labor camp.
“Those are the Xaraz, demons who have been convicted of a crime and stripped of caste status.”
“You don’t have prisons?” Chance wanted to know.
Greydusk seemed puzzled. “What is the purpose of feeding and housing our criminals? Outside the walls, they will fight to live or die. Some perish. What punishment could be worse than that?”
“Our prisons claim they’re striving toward rehabilitation,” I offered.
“And how’s that working out?” The demon scoffed.
I had to admit, I took his point. “Aren’t you worried they’ll get back in?”
“They cannot. The Vortex requires each vehicle or pedestrian to possess a rune of passage, or the energy field destroys them.”
“This one does, right?” I leaned over to look at the front, as if there would be magickal license plate on it.
“Of course.”
Then it was our turn at the gate.
The guard asked something in demontongue; he looked more or less human, except for his tail. It twitched in impatience while he discussed our entry with Greydusk. I could only guess at what they were saying, but the language grated on my ears, simultaneously harsh and sibilant. Then our demon produced some documents and the guard waved us through.
“What did you say?” I asked, once we passed into Xibalba proper.
“That I am an Imaron guide in service to Sybella of the Luren. And here are my contracts, providing provenance for the arrival of two specimens.”
Chance laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.”
Me either. But I was too weary to take offense.
In exhaustion, I felt unable to take in all the wonders; the city blurred before my eyes as we clattered over rough stone streets, which seemed to be laid out in concentric circles. After we passed through another set of gates, we were ushered inside a magnificent estate. We waited a while, and then a silent, gorgeous male Luren guided us into a sumptuous chamber to confront Greydusk’s boss.
Sybella wasn’t just beautiful. She was…I didn’t have a word. Her hair was black silk; her skin gleamed like a pearl. Her eyes shimmered like tropical waters, and her mouth was lush and succulent like dew on a perfect red rose. Shit. I was only looking at her out of the corner of my eye, and I already had an uncontrollable urge to the throw myself at her feet and lick them.
Double shit.
Beside me, Chance studied the patterns on the floor.
Sybella was speaking, but I found it hard to focus on her words. She smelled luscious, cinnamon and candied apples with the richness of a caramel slightly burned, a sugar-sweet scent that made me step toward her, before Chance grabbed my arm. Even her toes, which I was studying intently, were lovely. Her feet were slim and high-arched, alabaster pale and smooth as marble. A layer of polish gleamed in a surprisingly innocent shade of pink, and the effect was…disarming.
“And so, I am pleased to make you welcome in my home,” the Knight of the Luren caste concluded.
Unfortunately, I had no idea what words had come before. Not an auspicious beginning. But maybe if I admitted I had been distracted, she might be flattered. Then again, she must be used to affecting people that way, and so it would merely reveal me as a weak link. Damn it. I cast a sideways glance at Greydusk, but its impassive expression gave me no sign as to how I ought to proceed.
“When would you like to get down to business?” I asked.
It was a bluff, of course. For all I knew, she might’ve already offered me a deal, but I suspected Sybella wasn’t the type. Such efficiency would strike her as uncouth.
“You need rest,” she said smoothly, “before you can be expected to begin complex negotiations. I give my word that you will be safe in my house.”
At this, Greydusk inclined its head slightly. I could trust Sybella to keep her promise. Like most demons, I imagined she would twist any agreement to her advantage, but this was a simple matter.
So I nodded. “I’d appreciate an opportunity to freshen up and sleep. Chance will share my quarters.”
“You’re dismissed, Imaron.” The scorn in Sybella’s voice raised my hackles, but I didn’t dare meet her eyes to express my reaction with a dirty look.
Greydusk planted its feet beside me. “With all due respect, mistress, you lack the authority to discharge me.”
Sybella went arctic. “Pardon me?”
“I have completed my contract with you in good faith, and the Binder now employs me.”