Page 31 of Samhain Savior

“You’re mistaken. Access to hell is not something that can be achieved by mere mortals, so why would it need to be protected?” I spat, my ire rising with every beat of my heart. “That power is limited to the—”

“The seventy-two noble demons of theArs Goetia.Yeah. I know.”

I snarled, enraged. “Fucking Solomon and his Hells damned book.”

“The point is, the power to open a passage into—or out of—Hell itself was supposed to have been limited to the demonic nobility, but someone found a way.”

“The Fallen Key?” I asked doubtfully. That wasn’t anything I had ever heard about the Key, but after the letter from Phips and the vague as Hell information from Asmodeus, I was starting to think that I truly knew nothing.

“I’m only telling you what I’ve been told,” Delilah said, her eyes blinking closed for an extended beat. “Apparently, neither of us have been given the whole picture.”

I couldn’t even disagree with her.

As I watched her, taking in her earnest expression, the collar continued to move, seeming to offer her solace whenever she got agitated.

How interesting.

I wanted to ask her more, to find out what gaps in my knowledge she could possibly fill, but before I could, Delilah’s jaw cracked wide with a yawn.

“That’s enough for now,” Corson cut in, stepping toward me and resting a heavy palm on my shoulder. The look he gave me was scathing, intended to shame me, and once again, my hackles rose.

Why were they all so bloody interested in the witch’s wellbeing?

Why the fuck was I?

“Vine, why don’t you show Delilah to her room? I’m sure she could use some rest.” Throwing me a significant look, Corson continued, “We could all use some rest. We’ll regroup later when we have a plan.”

“Sure thing,” Vine agreed readily, lifting a tray he’d been preparing from the counter. He’d filled it with small bowls of water, fruit, and what looked like tiny squares of deli meat. “Come this way, bestie. I’ll show you to your chambers.” He gave a ridiculous bow then led her away.

I watched them go until Delilah had disappeared up the stairs, then turned away with a resigned sigh.

Not wanting to speak to anyone yet, I moved back to the coffee machine and began making a second double espresso. The kitchen felt smaller with every passing second, thescent of coffee not enough to erase the delicate notes of sage and lavender that she’d left behind.

Taking a sip, I savored the bitter brew, knowing that no matter how good it tasted, it was no substitute for the answers I needed.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Corson finally barked, not bothering to sugar coat anything.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I deflected, shrugging as I took another sip.

“What was that shit you just pulled? Threatening to cut out her tongue? What the hell is wrong with you, Archer?”

“Me? I was interrogating a suspect. A slippery little grave robber full of secrets. What were you doing, hey Corson? Mal?” I asked, not wanting to allow him to think his disloyalty had gone unnoticed. His black eyes blinked at me, filled with disappointment, then he turned away from me and went back outside and began removing his clothes. As I watched, Mal shifted, glossy black feathers replacing the pale skin of his human body. His raven’s mournful caw was all he offered before taking flight and disappearing into the gray New York sky.

Fine. Let him pout. I didn’t need his or anyone else’s approval.

Turning back to Corson, I pressed, “Since when do you side with witches?”

“Since that witch has clearly done nothing wrong.” Corson’s voice rumbled like distant thunder, his fists planted on his hips as he continued to rage at me. “I thought you understood the Creed, man.Stand between chaos and corruption. That woman up there? She’s fucking drowning in chaos right now.” His eyes met mine, centuries of brotherhood and trust in his gaze. “It’s time to decide where you’re gonna stand.”

Chapter thirteen

Delilah

It was dark when I awoke, the room quiet save for the gentle hum of the heating that clicked on periodically.

Rolling over, I sighed as I curled deeper into the luxurious mattress, desperate to hang on to what had been the best sleep of my life for just a bit longer. Beside me, coddled in a nest of pillows, Pandora slept on, her snuffling snore making me smile. She always slept hard after a big meal, and Vine had provided the equivalent of a hedgehog feast for my spiky little friend.

I had just closed my eyes, floating languidly in that fuzzy space between asleep and awake, when a sharptap tapcame from the bedroom window. I froze, my heart thudding heavy against my ribs as I waited, wanting to know if I had dreamed the sound or if it was really there—and if I was reallyin danger.