Inferno of Darkness (Divisa Huntress #2) - J.L. Weil Page 0,2
got to be happy. I wouldn’t take that from him.
It took weeks for my family to stop looking at me as if they expected me to freak out at any minute. But could I really blame them? I had given them every reason to worry about me. I’d been a wreck since my trip to the underworld. And that was putting it mildly. Between the countless tears and the strange stirrings inside I didn’t want to admit were there, I was a hot mess—unhinged. Just when I thought there wasn’t any more fluid in my body for my eyes to shed, another tear would escape.
But a month had come and gone. Christmas along with it, not that I had celebrated. My favorite holiday, the one on which I couldn’t wait to rush downstairs and unwrap all those shiny new packages, was nothing but a blur of colored lights. I hadn’t left the house. I didn’t shop. I didn’t make cookies. I didn’t blare Christmas carols through the house.
I was Lexi Scrooge this year. Ho. Ho. Hell.
Panting, I curled my fingers against the windowsill as the wind rushed over my face, drinking in the crisp scent before slamming the window shut and sinking down to the ground.
I concentrated on the flow of my breathing. In and out. In and out. In and out. With each long inhale and exhale, I shoved the anger deeper inside me until I no longer felt as if I would explode.
Twenty minutes later, a car pulled up into the driveway. Gravel crushed under tires as headlights beamed through my room. That would be Dad and Chloe. Travis was at Emma’s. He seemed to spend more time there than he did at home. I couldn’t help but think that was because of me.
How could I blame him? I was a buzzkill.
Sighing through my nose, I stood up and went to the bathroom to splash water on my face. I twisted my neck to the side, catching a glimpse of the tattoo that graced my nape, a pair of black wings that stretched to my shoulders. I touched the left tip of the wing and frowned at the cool wisp of tingles that radiated into my fingers—darkness.
It was a demon mark that claimed me as another's. But there was more. Something dark ribboned in my veins, and it unnerved me.
I hadn’t heard from Ashor, not that I had actually believed I would. Hell didn’t exactly get text messages or have FaceTime capabilities. We had no way to communicate. Even our bond would somehow allow me to… I don’t know… talk to him? In my thoughts, perhaps?
But no.
Nothing.
Nada.
Not a single message from the underworld.
Maybe that was what was eating me alive. I had no way of knowing what had happened to Ashor. Where he was. Had the queen exiled him? Was he gravely injured? Had he been able to heal? I knew some powers, like Soren’s, could prevent a demon from healing. The idea was terrifying.
But the one question I refused to ask was if he’d survived.
I couldn’t go there, couldn’t think of him as truly dead. A part of my soul would be gone as well. I consoled myself by telling myself I would know if he was gone. The mark would fade. As I stood, looking in the mirror, the black ink etched into my skin was vibrant and pulsed with energy.
Ashor Clave, the Prince of Darkness, was very much alive.
That was what kept me going.
“Lexi!” a soft, feminine voice called from downstairs. “We’re home!”
Drying off my hands, I padded across the room, flipping on the hallway light. It was time to put on that false smile and force myself to consume dinner. Food was a chore. It had lost all taste. Just a substance I needed to keep my body going.
Dad and Chloe were in the kitchen unloading Chinese takeout onto the kitchen table. Dad flipped around to grab silverware from the drawer and spotted me leaning in the doorway. “Hey. We brought dinner.”
“I can see that,” I said, with a forced smile. It hurt my cheeks.
“It’s from that place in town you love,” he added in hopes of brightening my mood, which meant I wasn’t doing a palpable job at faking it.
Spring Valley really only had one Chinese restaurant, so it was everyone’s favorite, but I only gave him another small smile. “Smells good.” I moved into the kitchen, grabbing a few plates and bringing them to the table.