Page 117 of As Above, So Below

The contract resonates instantly, growing bright red before vanishing in a swirl of shadow. The blood magic used to forge and reinforce the contract accepted the agreement without question. A tingling shiver works itself down my spine and I breathe deepagainst it, unable to tear my eyes from his.

The effects of the contract are immediate, intoxicating me, my eyes fluttering closed. Heaving a deep sigh, euphoria floods my veins. Finally, I can breathe. I’ve never experiencedthiskind of pleasure. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever known.

It’s addicting, and as it fades my innate uncoils and unfolds itself, sweeping through me in a slow, leisurely fashion. In the darkened corners of my mind, a golden rope blooms into life and some unknown light reveals the end of a corridor.

Long, empty, and coated in layers of dust, the floors are lined with stacks and piles of books, scrolls, soul crystals, and broken furniture—chairs, dressers, tables. The channel between us is reminiscent of the tower in the hells. Specifically, reminiscent of the state of the library after I’d unleashed myself upon it.

The braided rope hangs over the windowsill of an open window, it’s the only window shedding light—theropeis shedding light. Looking at the rope causes astrongpulling sensation in my chest, as if I could follow it through the window and find Ryc on the other end. A space in my mind now exists as a dedicated reminder of our tether, our bond.

Ryc’s light touch at my collarbone forces my eyes open. He’s slung his cloak over me. His hands smooth the lightweight fabric over my shoulders.

“It’s chill tonight, and you’re shivering,” he says, his voice low as he fixes the silver clasp.

Am I?

And is it because of the cold or because of what I’ve just done?

Again his scent envelops me and I breathe in deep.

“You didn’t read it,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, remaining perfectly still as he finishes with the clasp. I don’t trust my hands, I don’t trust my feet, and I clearly cannot trust my mind. “You have no idea what you’ve agreed to.”

He takes my hand and places the dagger in it firmly, curling my fingers around it. “Whatever it is you demand of me, it’s yours.”

I stare at the dagger in my hand. “What is this?”

He laughs, a low, quiet sound. “It’s exactly what you asked for when you went into Embersand Ashes.”

My eyes shoot wide and race to his before they grow narrow. “Do not lie to me, Ryc. I know what bloodstone looks like—”

“Then you should also know pure bloodstone doesn’t exist in this realm. Not anymore. Netharis made sure of that,” he says, tilting his head. “What little that remains has been forged into a bloodstone silver alloy. It’s not as powerful, but it will end an ethereal creature should you pierce the heart.”

The moonstone of the dagger glints maliciously in the night as if in warning. I stare in awe at the weapon in my hands capable of killing a god. How have mortals been able to hide such a thing from the pantheon? Do the gods care weapons like this exist? Surely Netharis knows. He has to.

A realization washes over me like the light of the slow rising sun.

It’s hope dangled overhead, just out of reach.

A heartless notion often abused by the gods. Especially by Netharis.

The gods know no mortal will ever get close enough to be able to use it.

Lifting my gaze, Ryc gives me a warm smile.

“I will stand beside you,” he says softly, “while you bury it in the hearts of those hunting you.”

“You would have me upend the realms?” Celesta’s words resonate in my mind.

He shakes his head in a slow toss. “I would have youlive, little demon.”

His words wrap themselves around my pounding heart and squeeze. No longer able to trust myself or the demonic urges of my blood, shadows sweep over me. As they vanish, I’m left standing in the dark of my temple bedroom, staring at the dagger in my hands.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I’ve never experiencedthis kind ofcalm.

It’s the kind of calm that coaxes my entire body to feel languid and at ease, as if all the problems in the world simply don’t exist. It has to be the lingering effects of securing a contract. Demons desperately searching for their next contract suddenly makes sense—this kind of feeling is worth chasing.

Even if it damns souls in the process.