Page 25 of Cathmoir’s Sons (Bad Boys of Bevington #5)

Chapter 25

A Hunting We Will Go

LAW

T here are places I didn’t think my Path would lead me. Back to Hell within a week is one of them.

I also didn’t think I’d be bringing quite so many people with me.

A quick trip to Thistlemist, evidently anticipated by the sandy-haired Seer, was only supposed to result in a message to DemonDaddy via his blood relative.

Instead, it results in two of Princess Teddy’s husbands accompanying us to Hell. Teddy herself has to be dissuaded by her third husband, who claims that three-on-one are unfair odds and surely Teddy won’t leave him to wrangle their brood alone?

I pay attention to how he manages his wife, anticipating I will have to manage my own adventurous mate one day. He has a light touch. No yelling. No demands. Simple observations that make it clear to his wife that he needs her.

It’s a masterclass in mate-management.

He winks at me after Teddy hugs him and reassures him she won’t leave him alone with the Terror Trio. Did he use a different technique when they had fewer children? I’ll have to ask him when we get a moment alone.

Since I’m now somehow responsible for half of Thistlemist’s (in)famous quaternion, including the heir apparent, I summon Mags and Dex. They can babysit.

Luca doesn’t need to do his card trick because the Water mage, Gabe, has an all-access ticket to Hell. We circle him as he pricks his finger and writes a glyph on a scrap of paper with his blood. The Thistlemist prince reaches into our circle and lights the paper with a tap of his finger. As it burns, I feel a strange tugging in my gut, like gravity has shifted. Then I’m choking as sulfur fills my lungs.

Gabe grabs the back of my neck. I’m on the verge of fighting him off when he blows into my mouth. My lungs clear and I draw a deep breath.

Gabe gives Luca, Mags, and Dex the same treatment. We stand panting, looking around at the hellscape. I gave Gabe the best description I could of what I smelled when I lost Kimberly Cavalo-Darling’s trail in Faery: the rotten egg reek of sulfur overlaid by a burnt rubber tang. Gabe thought the second scent might be the burning trees of Olt. He’s brought us to the edge of a forest my mind can’t take in. It stretches away from us in a bizarre bowl, trees curving upwards to hang from the sky, their roots clinging to sooty clouds. Some are burnt black. Others are shrouded in crackling flame. Veils of smoke and cinders swirl between the trees, obscuring the concave horizon.

Mags shifts into his Cait form, which I didn’t realize was possible in Hell. He lifts his muzzle and chuffs. Both Mags and Dex know Kimberly’s scent from a cloak Lords provided. I scent in the direction Mags is pointing. It takes me several breaths to find it amongst the other scents of Hell, but finally I catch the overly-sweet whiff of peony.

That’s our prey.

I nod to Mags. Dex and Luca shift and fall in behind Mags. I turn to the Water mage and Thistlemist prince. “We move fast on a hunt.” I swallow in horror at what I’m about to offer. “Do you want to ... ride to keep up?”

Gabe flushes. It’s hard to tell in Hell’s eerie, shifting, sunless light, but the Water mage has high cheekbones in a face almost as feline as a Cait’s and the skin over those high cheekbones mottles. He shakes his head. “I’ll fly us.”

The Thistlemist prince grumbles. “I’d almost rather ride.”

Gabe shakes his head at his husband. “I’ll go slow.”

“You said that last time.”

Since I am still somewhat disconcerted by flying with my mate, I can sympathize. I offer the prince my hand. “I don’t mind you riding.”

I do but it’s not politic to renege on my offer, so I’ll endure.

The Water mage steps between me and the prince. “Sorry, the only people Dar rides are me and Teddy. We’ll keep up. Don’t worry about us. Jou’s on the way. He’ll catch up to us.”

Not wanting to cross whatever strange boundary the Water mage has just defined, I nod and drop onto my paws. I trot off after my brother and cousins.

Mags leads us on a twisting path through the trees, avoiding the ones that are actually on fire. The cinder-littered ground singes my paws and I’m reminded of what Kellan said about being physically in Hell. We need to be careful here. I do not want to die in Hell.

I have far too much to live for.

Mags stops frequently to scent. I catch up to him and bump his shoulder reassuringly. The human’s floral fragrance is hard to find among the other smells of Hell, many of them overpowering and foul. Some of the trees give off a dark note of pitch as they burn. Others an acrid tang that stings my sinuses. Finding that faint sweet thread is hard. But I trust Mags. Only the Cù-Sìth are better trackers and I wouldn’t follow one of the high fae dogs for all the gold in Thistlemist.

Mags turns—direction is impossible in this place, but it’s higher into the curve of the forest—and I follow him around a stand of flaming trees.

I scent leather and hot spices before I see the horns. Baron Ash waits for us just beyond the fiery copse. He’s barefoot and bare-chested. The glyphs inscribed into his skin flare and shimmer in Hell’s strange light. He leans on a sickle that’s taller than his seven feet, the wicked blade curving back over his shoulder. His recurved horns spread almost as wide as he is tall, a spinning ring of neon blue light nestled among the black spines. Two demonesses stand behind him. One sports a bright orange mohawk and carries a wavy blade in each clawed hand. The other’s small and slender, barefoot like the Baron, wearing just a plain green tunic. Her hair and skin are jet black. White eyes glow like pearls against the uniform onyx of her skin.

Jou nods at us, the motion unimpeded by his huge rack of horns. “Cousin. Prince. Prince. Spare. Fodder. Fodder. Welcome to Hell. I’ll be your tour guide of Olt today. This is my sister Zippy.” He tips his head toward the orange mohawked demoness. “And she’s not here, if anyone asks, but this is Ercie.”

The unassuming demoness grins, her smile splitting white and wide from ear to ear, filled with more fangs than a shark’s. Not so unassuming after all.

“My master Raud sends you greetings, princes of Faery. He would welcome you in his hall if you ever chose to visit.”

She licks her fangs after she speaks with a tongue redder than blood and forked like a snake’s.

It will be a cold day in Hell before I choose to visit her master.

As though he can read my thoughts, Jou chuckles. “Ercie’s nose for human flesh is second to none. She’ll find your boy’s wayward cousin. Let’s go.”

The shark-grinned demoness drops to all fours, her arms lengthening, her back curving into a high, bony arch under her thin tunic. She lopes away at a run that reminds me alarmingly of a barghest’s.

I will find many, many reasons not to visit her and her master. Thousands of reasons. Millions, if I have to.

I want to visit , Luca thinks at me. If she’s that creepy, just think of what her master will be like .

I shudder, my tail lashing the smoky air. My twin’s been spending too much time with the dead if he thinks a visit with snake-shark-dog and her master are a good idea.

We trot after Ercie single-file with Mags leading and the other demons bringing up the rear.

The hot, crunching ground undulates beneath my paws, rising and falling as we make our way “up” the forest’s bowl. As I trot up a steep hillock, I hear a new sound over the crackle and pop of burning wood. A high, singing crack rings out. Then another and another.

Baron Ash suddenly lopes past me and overtakes Mags. His huge sickle shimmers into a flaming sword. A whip uncoils from his other hand and tastes the air with an answering crack.

The orange mohawked demoness races past me in a burst of speed, joining her lord. Massive, crimson-feathered wings spread from his shoulders. He puts an arm around the demoness and they lift into the air, arrowing toward the cracking sound.

I race after them. Mags keeps pace with me, Dex and Luca so close behind I can hear their breath, the crunch of their paws on the burned ground.

The trees open in a small clearing: a circle of bare ground charred to white ash. Cowering in the middle of the clearing is a blackened, twisted figure. Patches of pale skin still show on her calves, hip, buttocks, and shoulders. What might have been hair is fused in a charred mass around her head and over one shoulder. The figure curls her arms over her head, although her face is so burned, I’m not sure what’s left to protect. Two armored, horned, winged demons circle the figure, their flaming whips licking out to kiss the figure’s chest, arms, and back over and over.

The faint scent of peony—burned almost to nothing—comes from the figure.

Baron Ash flaps down at the edge of the clearing. He folds his wings and turns his head to look at me. “Erinyes,” he says. “Nasty. Looks like they’re having a little fun with your quarry.”

I stretch to my feet so I can talk to him, despite the fact that leaves me naked. In Hell.

“Will we have to defeat them to take her away from them?” I ask.

“Naw,” says the demon. “You could probably get them to cut a deal to hand her over. I don’t see any marks of a soul-trade on her. No sign she’s an oath breaker. She thought she could hide in Hell and they caught her. Nothin’ more complicated than that.”

“What would they want in trade?” I ask, shuddering at the thought of what wrath demons might demand.

“Don’t matter. They ain’t gonna live to enjoy it. I got personal beef with their kind.”

That’s the kind of bargain I’m comfortable with. “Now or later?” I ask.

“Now,” the demon responds.

More and more comfortable. “No repercussions if we just kill them?”

“Nothin’ I’d let touch mortals.”

“Sounds good,” I say. I make eye-contact with my Cait. They nod.

We draw into formation: me leading, Mags and Dex flanking me, Luca guarding our rear. The demon spreads his wings and hovers a few feet above us.

Without warning, we attack.

Dex and I draw on our shared Element, igniting into flame. Faefyre acts like armor against hellfire and the Erinyes’ whips bounce off our burning halos as we pounce. My prey doesn’t have time to scream before I bite her head off and spit it out to bounce among the cinders.

A neon blue blade cuts the other Erinyes in half before my prey’s head bumps to a stop.

The Water mage and Thistlemist prince land a few feet away from the severed head.

“You’re efficient,” Darwin Dùbhghlas says.

I chuff at him before rising to my feet and holding out my hand to the Erinyes’ victim. “Kimberly Cavalo-Darling, come with me.”

The human witch, so badly burned she shouldn’t be alive, blood beading in lines from hundreds of lashes, reaches out a trembling hand.

With perfect timing, Mags takes advantage of her distraction, rising to his feet and punching her in the temple, his fist sheathed in his Element to cushion the blow.

I catch her as she crumples, unconscious but alive.

As my queen desired.

Dex takes my burden, lifting her into a bridal-style carry. Even as she hangs limp in his arms, burned skin flakes off her, patches of pale, unmarked skin spreading up her hands and feet. I blink. Whatever’s healing her is tremendously powerful.

The demon bends over her, observing the same thing. He scratches his chin with a claw. “Huh.”

“Huh,” I echo back to him.

“Mind if I tag along? I’ve got a few questions of my own for her now.”

I have no objection. “Can you enter Ceòfuar?”

“Not without your girl’s invitation. Things I know better than to fuck with? A Faery Queen’s wards.”

Wise man. I turn to Mags, who drops back onto his paws. “Find Kellan. Tell her we’ve found Cavalo-Darling and are taking her to Ceòfuar. Ask her to lower the wards for Baron Ash. Please.”

Mags chuffs in acknowledgement. Baron Ash snaps his fingers. A spinning blue disk appears in the air in front of Mags. Showing the courage of the best of our kind, Mags bounds through it.

“Can the Fae Ways be accessed from Hell?” I ask the demon.

“You could try it from the Styx,” the little demoness says with a flick of her forked tongue over her fangs. “All places and times can be reached from the Styx.”

The All-Water , Luca thinks to me. If that’s true, it means we could Walk from the Styx directly into the stream that circles Ceòfuar .

I think it’s unwise to create such a Path. I wouldn’t want anyone—or anything—following us from Hell into Caileán’s court.

True , Luca responds. Ask Baron Ash about the pond in Tsara’s garden. I think it’s an infinite portal .

“Can Faery be reached from the pond in your baroness’ garden?” I ask.

The demon scratches his chin again. “Never tried it. I’m not sayin’ it couldn’t. But I wouldn’t know how to navigate it. I’m pretty sure the pond means Tsara got Water, too, but she’s just startin’ to learn how to control it.”

Luca’s shock ripples through my mind. Four Elements. She’s a natural quaternion. No wonder a demon lord claimed her .

“Despair climbing out of the pond without any warning suggests Tsara still has much to learn,” the snake demoness says.

Baron Ash grins fondly. “You know my seggurach. Always got some new surprise up her sleeve.”

A deflection, I sense. The snake demoness may be a companion, but not an entirely trusted one.

Baron Ash snaps his fingers again and Mags bounds out of the disk of blue flame that spins into being a few feet from me. Mags rises to his feet and bows to all of us, which is much more formal than Mags is usually.

“Queen Caileán welcomes us into her hall and says she’ll meet us there.”

“Thank you, cousin,” I say.

Mags passes me a string of beads that I recognize as a necklace Kellan usually wears.

“Queen Caileán says those will take us directly to Ceòfuar. Everyone should touch a bead.”

I nod and play out the beads between my hands.

“Give it a minute.” Baron Ash stretches out his hand. His long scythe appears and he leans on it. “I think the Skin Shredder wants a word.”

I look around but see nothing other than the clearing and the burning forest beyond. My Cait draw into formation around me again, even though I don’t think they sense anything more than I do.

A hot breeze blows through the trees, kicking up a tornado of ash, cinders, and smoke that surrounds us, choking and blinding.

Cold drafts of pure Air, clearing my eyes and lungs, soothing my skin, beat back Hell’s breath. Luca and Teddy’s Water Mage step back, spreading their arms, and creating a circle of Air around our small gathering.

Of all of the members of Teddy’s celebrated quaternion to have two Elements, I didn’t expect it to be the quiet one. I look at him with new respect.

Movement at the edge of the burning woods draws my attention. A lone, slender woman walks toward us. She’s draped with robes that move around her strangely, in long strips of ... skin?

Fuck, it is skin. Thousands of strips of skin in all the colors of man hang around her like a cloak. She sports a pair of black horns, just as big as Baron Ash’s, rising three feet above her auburn curls. Blood runs fresh and red from the tips of her horns, matting the hair at the base of each horn. The crimson’s echoed in her lips; the only color in her ice-pale face.

Baron Ash and the mohawked demoness bow to the woman. “Nimanes,” Jou says.

Nimanes, Princess of Furies. Has she come in response to the distress of her Erinyes? Or because Baron Ash is here? I know powerful demons don’t pass through each other’s realms without invitation, no more than powerful fae do.

“Son of Asmodeus,” she responds with a bow before nodding at the two demonesses. “General Ziporah. Herald of Raud.” She sweeps eyes such a pale grey they’re almost colorless across the assembled fae. “Princes of the Wood. What brings you to my lands?”

“Are these your lands?” Jou asks, his tone making it an assertion. “I was under the impression that this part of Olt was unclaimed after my seggurach destroyed the Tree of Pain.”

“My interests have expanded of late,” Nimanes says, without giving him a direct answer.

“I’m here with kin,” Jou says, nodding at Gabe. “Hunting a mortal who wronged the fae.”

Nimanes’ pale eyes flick to me. “Heir of the Cait, how did this mortal wrong you?”

Hearing a princess of Hell say my title sends goosebumps rippling up my spine.

“She killed my brother’s lover,” I say. “I claim a life-debt.”

Nimanes’ eyes shift to the burned bundle in Dex’s arms. “She sought to escape justice in Hell?”

“Yes,” I say. “I tracked her here.”

“Perhaps she was trying to seek asylum in the Court of Whips,” Nimanes says, running a clawed finger under her pointy chin.

Baron Ash extends his arm, his huge scythe creating a barrier between Nimanes and the burned woman.

“Whatever she was tryin’ to do,” Baron Ash drawls, “the fact of the matter is she didn’t make it to your court. She never got to make her case to you or offer you a soul trade. She’s not an oath-breaker. You got no reason to extend your hand over her.”

“I am not challenging the life-debt she owes, merely questioning why she came to my lands. If you are returning with her to Faery, perhaps I could be permitted to accompany you to satisfy my curiosity?”

Which is how I end up returning to Faery with two demons more than I left with.