Page 142 of As Above, So Below

Taking a hefty number of pages from the first half of the book between my fingers, pages fly past. The last page flicks over—blank. All of them.

What?

My brows furrow.

“Maybe the knowledge is bound to the hells?” I shake my head, trying to make sense of the situation.

Granted, I don’t know what was detailed in the later of the chapters I’d seen in the library, but it is possible it’s knowledge mortals shouldn’t learn. Scoffing a small laugh, I shake my head again. I suppose I can’t expect everything I’ve brought with me from the hells to be helpful. At least the curse this one carries isn’t damning.

“Put the creepy book away. I’m more interested in your box there.” She juts her chin toward the obsidian box beside me. “What’s in it?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly with a small shrug as I closeFated Celestialsand set it aside. “I’ve never opened it.”

“Well, let’s open it up!” She smiles excitedly. “It can’t make a shit day much worse, can it?”

“Well, yes.” Her ice blue eyes race to mine. “It can. Depending on what’s contained inside. It’s an obsidian box.”

In a strange flurry of limbs and legs, Eve contorts herself upright. “You mean to tell methat’san obsidian box?” She points a slender finger at the black hewn stone creation. “The thing withinthatis cursed?”

“Yes. Well, very likely yes. I doubt I managed to take two benign objects from the hells.” I run my fingers over the surface, the faint unweaving magic pulls like a siphon through my skin. “I’ve never seen an obsidian box like this one, not with etching like this.”

“Maybe Cyran has the right idea. I’ll go stand in the hall while you open it and figure out if it’s cursed.”

I can’t help but laugh.

“Listen, when Druka offered the contract, I figured I’d have to keep you from murdering others in your sleep, talk you down off a ledge when your demonic urges took hold—not watch you unleashcursed objects on the living realm.”

This is the first time Eve has mentioned specific details about her contract with Druka. Taken by surprise, I gape at her for a moment, trying to find my voice.

“Why would Druka care about something like that?” I ask, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.

“She knew Netharis would send demons after you,” Eve answers simply. “Her exact words were ‘protect her at all costs, even if it means protecting her from herself.’”

It doesn’t make sense. And the longer I linger on it, the tighter my chest grows. Clearing my throat, I shove the thoughts away and force a small smile onto my face.

“I have to admit, Druka is not what I’d expected a succubus to be.” Eve laughs to herself.

“Have you met many demons in your time, Eve?” I ask with a small laugh.

“A few, actually,” she admits, nodding slowly. “But you’re the only one from the hells.”

A couple things dawn upon me at once. First, the realization she’s referring to mortals who behave like demons leaves me concerned. Last, thatIam the only demon from the hells she’s met.

“Did you not meet Druka?” I ask, confused.

“Yes and no?” she says, her head tilting with her answer. “She came to me in a dream, made the offer and when I woke, the contract was on my desk.”

“I’d almost forgotten Druka is a dreamwalker,” I say quietly.

“How do you know her?” Eve asks, her voice quiet. “What kind of demon is she? She has been nothing but kind any time we speak, so it makes me wonder…” she trails off.

It’s a fair question.

Demons treat mortals like pawns. A mark on a scoreboard or a tool to further their own interests. They’re to be controlled, subjugated, and dominated. A demon would never allow for a mortal to get to know them. At least, not to the same degree Eve and I have gotten to know one another.

I pause, searching for an answer. “Do not be misled, Eve. Druka is a demon capable of many horrors. The DrukaIknow is not theDruka everyone else knows.”

Silence as Eve pieces things together.