Page 43 of Demon with Benefits (Hell Bent #3)

That answers that, then. The red sky reminded her of diffused photography lighting. It was sublimely creepy because it cast no shadows. It just glowed.

She hauled herself a little higher up to get a better look.

By her estimation, she was about ten floors up.

Below, there was a perimeter wall built on cracked, dead soil.

Craggy mountains with steep cliffs loomed beyond it, but she couldn’t see what was on either side because the castle blocked the view.

She never thought she’d look at anything in Hell and see it as salvation, but that was exactly what she thought when she looked at those rocky cliffs. If she could just get out of here and past the wall, she was sure there’d be a hundred good hiding places up there.

As long as she didn’t walk into the cave of some monster, that was.

“I’m so fucked,” she murmured.

Her arms were starting to shake from holding herself up, and her toes could only cling to the wall for so long. And the harder she worked, the faster her heart beat, and the more her head pounded.

But she was still in her right mind enough to correct herself. “I am not fucked. I just need to find Meph. I’ll get Meph, and we’ll get out of this together.”

That was her big plan.

How she was going to convince a ravenous monster to help her escape was a different story, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. She wasn’t forgetting her earlier realization, and she clung to that hope for now.

Before her legs gave out, she grasped one of the bars of the window and tested its strength.

It moved.

Only slightly, but when she stared at the crack in the stone where it was inserted, she could see the mortar was crumbling. She transferred her weight and tried the second bar, and the same thing happened.

“I can work with this.”

She spent another minute wiggling one of the bars, and when a chip of mortar came loose, she used it to break off another chip, and another. Eventually her arms were shaking, and her vision was going black, and she was pretty sure she was going to pass out and fall if she didn’t get down.

It wasn’t a great dismount. She maneuvered so she was hanging from her fingertips from the ledge and then just dropped, bending deep into her knees to absorb the impact.

It would have been graceful if not for the headache, which made it feel like she’d been cracked in the skull with a baseball bat as she hit the ground.

Groaning at the pain, she slid to the floor with her back wedged into the corner. Fuck, she was tired. She needed to regain some strength so she could climb and keep working the bars loose, so maybe sleep was her best option anyway.

If she were Suyin, she would probably already have pulled some ancient sigil from memory that would open locked doors and loosen mortar. But Iris didn’t know any sigils for that, and her memory wasn’t working well at the moment anyway.

“I’m so fucked— No. We’re not talking like that, remember? I’m not fucked. I’m gonna find Meph, and we’re going to escape together. He’ll fly me away to safety.”

He hadn’t had wings before, but she knew Ash and Mist could disappear their wings when they wanted. She figured Meph could do the same.

For some reason, the thought of Monster Meph flying struck her as hilarious, and she snorted. It turned into a chuckle. And then she started giggling. There were some tears involved too, and that was how she knew she’d really lost it.

When she felt sleep approaching, she welcomed it.

The Necromancer materialized in the center of the hellgate in Valefor’s study, his lip curling.

He despised coming here. He hated Valefor enough that, if he hadn’t needed him to get what he wanted, he’d have launched a full-scale attack on his territory just to make his life miserable.

Worse, Murmur had helped Valefor get his ultimate weapon back, and the Duke of Hell was no longer as vulnerable as he’d been the last few hundred years. It was only a matter of time before Valefor used that weapon to start taking new territories, amassing power he believed he was owed.

Murmur hadn’t actually wanted to help Valefor, but he’d needed his book, and he’d needed someone to retrieve the book that was strong enough to get the job done and smart enough not to try to fuck him over.

He may have hated Valefor, but he respected his cunning. Only a fool underestimated his enemies.

Sure enough, when Murmur stepped out of the hellgate, he saw his prize waiting for him on Valefor’s desk, just as he had been promised.

“You’re late, Necromancer,” Valefor said from a seat behind the desk.

It was a power position—a big window overlooked his territory behind him, the red sky highlighting his formidable demon form, his horns and muzzle cutting an impressive outline. A few servants puttered about the room, ready to fawn over their master at his command.

Murmur feigned boredom, resting a hand on the sword hilt at his hip. “You didn’t read it?”

“I kept my end of the bargain.”

He drummed his claws against the leather-wrapped handle. “I’ll know if you read it.”

“I made a vow, as did you. I got what I wanted. Why should I care about your silly witch book?”

Murmur smiled thinly. “Why, indeed.”

“Though I will say, you’ve sparked my curiosity.”

“A necromancer never shares his secrets.”

The two Dukes of Hell stared at each other in distrustful silence.

“And the witch?” Murmur asked.

“She wasn’t there, and she never saw my face. It was another who let me past the coven’s wards. She was weak. I could have killed her with a flick of my hand if I’d been in the mood.”

“Very good.” Murmur allowed his lips to curve briefly before neutralizing the expression. “And where is Mephistopheles?” He’d heard tales of the creature but had never witnessed him in person, and he had to admit he was intrigued.

The morbidly curious part of him wished to withstand the demon’s torture and see how he fared. One who specialized in death was not one who feared it, and he wanted to see what other aversions the creature could pull out of him. It bothered him that he didn’t know.

One could not face his fears if one had not first identified them.

“That’s not for you to know,” Valefor replied evenly.

No surprises there. The souls Murmur had enslaved swirled about his feet, and he longed to unleash them to creep through the castle and find what he sought, but he held them back.

If Valefor had played by the rules, then Murmur would too. At least for now.

He stepped forward to retrieve the book where it rested on the desk. As he reached for it, however, Valefor placed a paw over it. Murmur’s tail flicked in annoyance.

“You must report to Lucifer the location of Belial and the other rogues.”

Murmur stilled. “Why not do it yourself?”

“I made a vow I would not.”

Murmur’s brows lifted. “Indeed? To whom?”

“It was a condition to Mephistopheles shifting forms.” It seemed to pain Valefor to admit this, and Murmur could understand why. If Valefor could not control his creature’s shift, then it appeared he did not have much control over him at all.

“Someone needs to do it,” Valefor said.

The souls at Murmur’s feet writhed with his increased agitation, but beyond that tell—one he didn’t think anyone knew how to read—he betrayed nothing of his thoughts. Several moments passed in silence as he chose his next words.

“Very well. I will take care of it.”

Then, he stepped forward and extracted the book from beneath Valefor’s claws with a sharp look.

Valefor nodded and leaned back in his chair, satisfied. Relaxed. Far more than he should be. It was oh so tempting to violate the terms of their agreement just to cure him of that delusion.

Think of the goal , Murmur reminded himself, tamping down his chaotic whisperings.

He was always perfectly controlled, but there lived inside him wild, destructive urges that longed to see the worlds burn. That part of him didn’t care if his meticulous plans burned with them; it just wanted to revel in the chaos.

And that was why Murmur was very careful never to succumb to irrational behavior. His goal drove him, was the purpose behind his every action, and he had come too far to throw it away now. Too much was riding on its success.

The Book of Gamigin cradled carefully in his claws, Murmur turned and approached the hellgate. Before he could step into it, a great, haunting shriek reverberated through the walls of the castle. The ghostly sound sent chills down even his spine.

Murmur tilted his head as he looked back to regard the other Duke with a lifted brow. “Are you sure you have control of your monster, Valefor?”

Valefor’s lip curled, and he flicked a paw dismissively. “Begone.”

But Murmur didn’t miss the way he’d flinched, ever so slightly.

There was a curve to the Necromancer’s lips as he stepped through the hellgate and disappeared.