Page 158 of The Death Wish

‘Shit.’

‘Silas?’ Pitch slipped beneath his outstretched arm, bolstering him. ‘What’s happening? Talk to me.’

Those words drew Silas back. He’d worn them thin during their time together, but this was the first time they had come from Pitch.

Silas blinked, his mouth desert-dry. ‘Izanami. The goddess did this.’

He felt Pitch tense, felt his warmth grow. ‘This? Us? Brought us back?’

‘Yes. She did.’ Enoch’s appearance merely mimicked human; Silas saw it now. The lord was too still, too constantly poised. He did not understand that mortality made for restlessness. Humanity did not have the luxury of standing still. There was not time. ‘You were Her favoured child, Silas Mercer. As Seraphiel was for me. My Seraph was over zealous in his bid to please me and if he were not already dead I would have no choice but to make it so.’ Silas swallowed, and Pitch pressed in closer. ‘But his sacrifice purified him, thankfully. Both he and Lucifer shall not be judged too harshly by the Celestials. But judgement is not something you need worry about, Mr Mercer. You have pleased your goddess very much. She rewards you greatly. It is Death’s wish that you be granted what you were deprived of for so long.’

‘And what was that?’ Silas asked. That commanding, fathomless voice he’d held, now barely an echo. ‘What was I deprived of?’

Truly, he felt blessed already. Having this precious time with Pitch; pleasure after such pain.

The lord did not blink, nor shift at all; hands behind his back, bare feet upon cold stone. ‘Life, Silas. You were deprived of your life.’

Silas stayed quiet, thoughtful, as he lifted the blanket and once more drew the all-too-quiet daemon into its folds. They pressed close, and Scarlet nestled between their shoulders. ‘And did she grant Pitch such a miracle, too?’

‘She is a goddess, Silas, she is no fool. What point in making you mortal, giving you years in which to live freely and perhaps grow old, if you spend them in deep and bitter mourning? But Izanami is not a Celestial of Arcadia. Under normal circumstances, the prince’s fate would be beyond her control. But the death of her sister Morrigan, at your hands, Silas, has lifted her ranking among the gods. Combined with my full support of her endeavour to relight Vassago’s Creation Flame, Her Death Wish has been honoured in its entirety.’

‘You are truly benevolent, your grace,’ Forneus muttered.

‘Well, we know that is not true,’ Enoch said with a shrug. ‘I had a vested interest in Vassago’s return.’

Pitch inhaled, his release long and controlled. ‘And what is that interest, my lord?’

‘I want something from you.’

‘Bloody hell,’ Silas muttered, pulling the blanket tighter.

‘Go on,’ Pitch said.

‘You both shall remain here in Lucifer’s Tower. Recovering and enjoying the start of your new lives. Silas will need time to adjust to our world, of course. I’m sure you shall be adept in teaching him its ways.’

‘I shall be very thorough,’ Pitch said, giving Silas a nudge. But Silas was far too numbed to do more than stare dumbly. ‘Is that it, then? You want me to play schoolmaster? I agree to your terms in that case.’

‘Those are not my terms, but they are reward. I want something else of you.’

Silas could feel Pitch’s mood darken. ‘Have I not done enough, my lord?’

‘You have done far more than enough. Even I could not determine the likelihood of the Seraph’s Cultivation working.’

‘You knew of the simurgh, of Seraphiel’s plans, right from the start,’ Pitch said, no question in it.

‘Of course. I am the Lord of Arcadia,’ he said, as though that explained it all, which it did. ‘Lucifer thought he stole you from the abaddon through his expertise alone. I never told him such a feat was impossible without my hand in it. But even once it was done, and the die cast, I placed no bets on your success. I tended towards a nugatory outcome.’ Pitch huffed beneath his breath. ‘And you surprised me. I like that. So, here is why I implored Arcadia’s gods to grant Izanami’s wish. When the time comes, and I ask it of you, you shall take your sire’s place.’

Pitch dug his nails into Silas’s waist. ‘You wish me to become a King of Daemonkind?’

‘Yes. And I’m sure those in my council at White Mountain can be made agreeable to you taking a purebred as your consort. Your union would have my blessing, so it will be done.’

Silas pressed his lips tight, frightened the thoughts in his head might burst out. His language would be quite appalling.

Pitch laughed. A very inelegant sound. He pressed his fingers to his lips. ‘I see. What longevity did the goddess grant us? A week? A few days? If I am to be king for a day, then I agree wholeheartedly. How about you, Silas? Are you happy with being a royal bed mate for a day or two?’

Silas just stared. And Scarlet tittered, far too amused for his liking.

Enoch smiled. A weapon, Silas decided, for it disarmed and beguiled, and made a man think perhaps everything would be perfectly fine. ‘The goddess does not give her secrets away,’ the lord said. ‘You shall live as all others do, not knowing when your last day has arrived.’ His warm gaze shifted to Silas, who felt it like a strike of gentle lightning. ‘You are human, Silas, with alltheir vulnerabilities. You will die one day. But not this one, nor the next. So take your pleasures as you will.’ He looked to Pitch. ‘Both of you. Now, Forneus will stay in your service, to see to all your needs.’