focused on her name tattooed on my inner left wrist. I’d completed it two days after she left, when I’d found one of her hairs in my brush. By adding it to the potion I’d placed in the ink, I could now feel her at all times. She was sad but safe.
Serah pulled a knit hat out of her pocket and pulled it down over the top of my head to my ears. “Looking at you makes me cold,” she complained.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, how did you and Gideon find me?” I asked after an extended silence. I’d been pondering that since Gideon wouldn’t have been able to use whatever usual tracking spell he preferred to keep an eye on me. Vincent had blanketed that warehouse in cloaking magic to stay hidden from the Towers.
“Oh, that,” she said, her grin growing. “I’d stopped by Asylum to tell you that we’d figured out the tattooed lunatic was the ex-wife of the man who’d been murdered at the last site. Turns out he divorced her because she couldn’t have kids.”
“And after discovering that he’d remarried and had the family she couldn’t have caused her to go screaming over the deep end,” I finished.
“Something like that.”
“Anyway . . .” I prompted.
She gave a small shrug, shoving her hands back into her pockets. “About the time I showed up and was looking in your window that warlock popped in. He thought you were in some kind of trouble. When we couldn’t find you here, he did some kind of spell and we poofed over to corner of Main and Pershing. After some looking around, we spotted blood on the sidewalk. I guess it was yours because Gideon managed to use that to track you to that warehouse.”
And the rest was history, so to speak. I’d heard snatches of the story on the news over the past several days, but I hadn’t really paid much attention. I’d been focused on my own plans.
“Was there a reason for your stopping by today?” I asked when Serah didn’t move on to a new topic.
“Well, I was just thinking that you said you’d wipe my memory once this whole thing was over. You know, protect your secret.” She looked expectantly at me, but I said nothing. “It’s been two weeks,” she nudged.
“Do you want to forget?”
“No!” she said quickly, jerking back a half step. “I want to remember.”
“Then you will.”
“Are you sure? You’re not going to wipe my memory?”
I smiled at her as I pushed to my feet so I could descend the three stairs to the ground. “Good night, Serah. Good work. Sleep well. I’ll most likely wipe your memory in the morning.”
She gave me a little bow and laughed, catching my little joke that her memories were in fact safe from me. “As you wish.”
Straightening, she paused on her way back into the parlor, looking over her shoulder at me. The smile was gone and the worry had returned to her gaze. I had no more comforting words. I could only hope that she didn’t come to regret remembering exactly what I was. That kind of knowledge always seemed to carry with it a high price.
I waited another ten minutes before following her into the parlor. My muscles were stiff and my feet were nearly numb from sitting outside for so long. The warmth of the shop helped me thaw, filling my body with biting pins and needles as blood flowed into my extremities again.
Locking the back door, I stopped and closed my eyes, drinking in the sounds coming from the front of the shop. Bronx’s deep voice rumbled as he told a story, punctuated by a burst of laughter from the new guy. All this was underscored by the steady buzz of a tattooing gun as it steadily carved through the flesh of a client. Six months ago, the buzzing noise was the most comforting sound in the world to me. It was the sound of normalcy. It was the sound of my ordered life. It was the sound of control.
But now it was a reminder of what was and could never be again.
In the middle of the room, I pulled up the trapdoor that covered the basement stairs. Descending to the lower level, I pulled the door closed after me so that I was swallowed up by the absolute darkness. But I didn’t need any light. I’d descended these stairs hundreds of times.
At the foot of the stairs, I reached out and grabbed the beaded pull chain on my first try. The small dirt-floor room was flooded with dim yellow light. Across the room near my work bench, Lilith stood with her arms folded over her stomach as she glared at me. I wasn’t surprised. The shadowy figure had been haunting me since the showdown at the warehouse. At what she hoped were my vulnerable moments, a transparent vision of the Queen of the Underworld would appear in expectation of scaring me out of my current course of action.
“It doesn’t have to be this way, Gage,” she whispered to me. I was no longer sure if I was actually hearing her voice or if the words were merely floating across my brain.
“I don’t see how I have any other choice in the matter,” I replied, walking past her to the one cabinet with a large padlock on the front. From the far wall with the spray-painted demon symbol, I could feel Zyrus stirring. The demon had been giving me a wide berth recently while I was in the basement at the parlor, but then we’d been spending a great deal of time together in my rooms at the Towers.
Of course, the Towers were less than pleased with Gideon’s news that I was dealing with demons. But for now, they held back, watching and concocting a plan to deal with me. For now, they steered clear of me while I was in Simon’s rooms as well as in Low Town. There hadn’t even been a whispered sighting of a warlock or witch in Low Town since the unicorn’s death. The Towers were afraid, though they’d never admit that one lone warlock had a chance at defeating them. But then, they hadn’t a clue as to what I planned.
Without bothering to pull the key out of my pocket, I unlocked the padlock with a wave of my hand and pulled it free of the cabinet. As I opened the double doors, I whispered the reveal spell and a pair of bottles appeared in the very front of the top shelf. There was a slight tremble in my fingers as I picked up the bottle labeled “Styx.”
“Don’t do this, Gage,” Lilith snarled, but I noticed that her image was already fading. “I don’t need you. I will find another. Come into my domain, and I’ll destroy what’s left of your soul.”
The demon’s laugh tumbled through my head and I smiled at the misty remains of the dark queen. “You’re just one stop on my journey to getting the life I want.”
Placing the bottle on the workbench, I pulled my long-sleeved shirt over my head and stood bare-chested in the cold, letting the heavy silence sink into me. I glanced down at the tattoo I’d had Bronx complete for me a week ago. It was the demon’s symbol drawn over my heart. The ink had included a mixture of angel feather and water from Acheron, the Underworld river of pain. The unique potion acted as a buffer between Zyrus and myself, allowing me to have better control over the demon and its powers while not falling to the rush of its emotions quite so easily.
“Are you ready?”
Defeat Lilith and free the Underworld from her grasp, and we will lead an army to destroy the Towers.
It was a fair trade and I had nothing left to lose. Picking up the bottle, I pulled the cork out and held the glass vial aloft in a toast. “For Trixie and my child.”
I drank down the Styx, the very water that was supposed to have made Achilles invulnerable, and I waited for darkness to claim me. When my two years in the Underworld were complete, I’d have all the powers of the demons with me. I would reduce the Towers to nothing but fire and blood.
I’d make this world safe for my love. Or I would make it burn.