Page 15

Travis’s voice slightly startled her in the quiet of the car. “You don’t say much when Darien’s not around, do you?”

She pulled her attention from the billboard flitting by her window—the neon letters advertising what the city claimed were the best protection spells on the market. Some of the billboards lining the roads were so large, they swallowed up the buildings behind them. After spending a little time with Darkslayers, Loren had learned a thing or two about spells. If a person wanted the best, they had to pay a visit to the Umbra Forum, and they had to not only be able to afford the spells sold through the black market, but also have the strength and status to walk out afterward without getting mugged or murdered.

Loren twisted in her seat to face Travis. “I’ve always been pretty quiet,” she said.

Travis merely nodded.

“I like your car. Is it new?”

“Brand new. Just got it last week.”

Silence resumed. It seemed Travis wasn’t much of a talker either. Or maybe it was just her. Maybe she was making it awkward.

Kicking off her shoes, she put her cold feet up on the edge of the seat and hugged her knees. “So, what’s your story with Darien? I mean, I know you’re his cousin. But what made you decide to be a Darkslayer?” As soon as the words were out, she felt a prickle of embarrassment. Did anyone ever really decide to be a Darkslayer? Her question made it sound like she was inquiring about his choice of courses in university.

As if he could read her thoughts, Travis said, “I wouldn’t really say I decided to become one. It fell onto my shoulders like an inheritance, I guess. My father is a Darkslayer in Yveswich. For reasons we won’t discuss, I didn’t want anything to do with him, so as soon as I turned seventeen, I left the city with Roman’s help—Roman’s my older brother—and came to Angelthene. Started hanging out with Darien again. He formed the Seven Devils, and the rest is history.”

Interesting. There was still so much she didn’t know about them, Darien included. She wondered if Roman was a Darkslayer as well, and if he was, she wondered which house he belonged to in Yveswich. Most of the capital cities sprinkled throughout Terra had their own tiers of Darkslayers, and Yveswich, being even bigger and more populated than Angelthene, was no different. Yveswich was the capital of the state of Ker. It was home to the infamous Shadowmasters, a circle considered by some to be as dangerous and capable as the Seven Devils.

“Randal was your uncle?” she asked.

“Yup.” Travis made a popping sound on the p. “This might be hard for you to believe, but my dad made Randal look like a saint.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “I know what you’re thinking. ‘What’s up with all you guys having lunatics for fathers?’” He huffed a laugh and turned to look at her again, one scarred eyebrow raised. “Am I right or am I right?”

“No judgement.” Loren shrugged. “So, if you didn’t want to be a Darkslayer, then what did you want to be?”

Travis looked away from her so quickly, it was as if she’d slapped his head to the side. She eyed him as he readjusted in his seat and leaned an arm on his door.

Was her question really so bad that it had managed to unsettle him like this? Strange, she thought. But if she’d learned anything lately, it was that everyone had something that struck a nerve in them, even the Devlin Devil. Even the Darien Cassel had a lot of hidden demons she never would’ve guessed existed, had she not been given the opportunity to get to know him as well as she knew him now.

“If you want the truth, I was pretty artsy in school,” Travis said at last, his voice so low it was practically a mumble. “I’ve always wanted to be a tattoo artist.” A brief pause. “I was also into drama.” He said the last part so quietly, Loren barely heard him.

“Drama?” Her brows flicked up. “I have to admit, I’m surprised. You don’t really strike me as the type.”

Travis laughed. “I know, right? All everyone ever hears about are drama and band geeks.” While Loren’s smile grew at the thought of Travis being labeled a drama geek, his faded a little. “I was always into it, geeks or no, but if I had to pick one, it’d probably be tattooing.” He gestured to the sleeve on his left arm, the black muscle shirt he wore allowing every bit of the artwork to be seen. “I did a few of my own tattoos actually. And a couple of Darien’s.”

“Impressive.” Maybe she was imagining it in the darkness of the car, but she thought his cheeks were reddening.

“Thanks.”

“No, I mean it,” she insisted. “I’ve taken a good look at Darien’s tattoos. There was a lot of detail that went into those.” Every tattoo on his body was incredible. A work of art, each one, just like the man who wore them. Sometimes, when she couldn’t sleep at night, she would study them in the candlelight in their bedroom until exhaustion finally overcame her, his ink a lullaby for her eyes.

“If you’re talking about his backpiece, that was Kyle at Diablo. I’m not that talented.”

“I’m sure you’re just being modest.”

Travis merely shrugged.

She studied him as he switched lanes on the highway, passing several cars whose drivers were going way under the speed limit. He seemed to be avoiding looking at her.

“I say, do it,” Loren said. Travis’s head turned, ever so slightly, in her direction, but he kept his eyes on the road, the pavement washed in the white of the car’s headlights. “Try it one day, if only to say that you did.”

He seemed to really consider her words. He was quiet for so long that she was beginning to think he wouldn’t say anything more, but after a moment, he shook his head. “Nah.”

“Why not?” She took care to keep her tone polite.

“I’m a Devil.” The way he said it implied it should be enough of an answer for her. “When we’re sworn into a circle, in a way we are reborn. And when you’re born a Darkslayer, you die a Darkslayer. Everyone knows that.”

Loren lowered her feet to the floor, balancing them on her shoes, and folded her hands in her lap. “That sounds a little…dark.”