Page 2 of The Monsters We Are (Devil’s Cradle #3)

As the seven Ancients sat around Cain’s dining table a short time later, he and Azazel relayed the incident that brought the night’s celebration to a screeching halt. Cain kept his voice cool and calm, pushing down the rage that threatened to fog his thoughts. It was no easy thing when said rage relentlessly crawled through his blood and simmered low in his belly.

Beneath the table, he flexed his fingers. A bounty. Fucking Adam had put a bounty on Wynter’s head. Again. Like once hadn’t been enough.

Cain supposed he couldn’t complain too much about the first bounty. After all, it had pushed her to seek sanctuary. It had brought her to Devil’s Cradle, brought her to him. Cain could never lament that. Selfish, maybe, but he was often that way where his consort was concerned. She thankfully let it slide much of the time.

He wouldn’t have imagined that he’d ever wish to claim a consort. But then, he never would have thought that anyone—man or woman—could make themselves indispensable to him. Wynter . . . she was vital to him. As necessary as breathing. Something he would never give up.

He’d been so numb before her. So detached from the world that he’d ceased to want things. Nothing had entertained, intrigued, or brought him any true satisfaction. Wynter had walked into his world, sliced through the listlessness, and settled into his life as easily as if it had been preordained.

He liked to believe that the latter was true. Liked to believe that she’d been made specifically for him. Because it often felt like she was.

She suited him in every imaginable way. She delighted his senses and appealed to him on every level. More, she enraptured his monster in such a way that its possessiveness of her wasn’t shallow.

The creature didn’t covet Wynter as if she was a pretty bauble. It saw her, recognized the witch as a person in her own right rather than a collectible item, and it coveted the entirety of her. Hence why it wanted to bind itself to her—something Cain hadn’t yet run by Wynter. He had no idea if she’d go for it, but he had hope, given that she’d sold him all rights to her soul and given up her mortality for him. That depth of commitment was nothing to sniff at.

Even back when so many secrets had ran riot between them, they’d still gradually built something. Something true and solid and long-lasting. And, despite what he’d feared, the revelation of his own secrets hadn’t destroyed what they’d built.

Wynter accepted him anyway. Accepted that, as a Leviathan, Cain was a gateway to hell for souls. Accepted the presence of his monster, despite that it was a thing of nightmares. More, she’d accepted that he was the only son of Satan—the darkest and most corrupt of the Leviathans who now dwelled in the depths of hell. Which wasn’t exactly easy to digest, let alone make peace with. But Wynter hadn’t pulled away from Cain for even a moment.

Really, she was a true marvel to him. He was quite certain there was no one like her. And not simply because she was far from a normal revenant.

It was fortunate that Adam had no clue just how important she was to Cain, or he would have placed an even bigger price on her head—one so high that it would have been all but irresistible to most who resided in Devil’s Cradle. Because Adam wouldn’t merely plan to use her to lift the curse on Aeon, he’d plan to torture her until the end of time.

Of course, the bastard wouldn’t find it so easy to keep her contained. The deity who’d marked and regularly watched over her would never permit it. Kali would free her somehow if Wynter didn’t manage to free herself. That brought Cain no real comfort, though. Because the thought of her in Adam’s custody for merely five minutes was too much to stomach. Especially when Cain would have no way to physically track and save her, courtesy of his fucking cage.

“I don’t understand,”

Ishtar said to no one in particular, giving a slight shake of her head. “The things Adam said do not make much sense.”

Cain’s inner creature snarled at the sound of the Aeon’s name. It didn’t want to be there in that dining room with the Ancients. It wanted to be back in their bedchamber with Wynter, who’d agreed to wait for Cain there. His creature wanted access to the only thing that had the ability to calm it.

“What would be the point of putting a price on Cain’s head?”

Ishtar went on, her cornflower-blue eyes cloudy with confusion. “Adam knows that even if someone did miraculously manage to subdue Cain, there is no way they would get him out of Devil’s Cradle—we are all trapped here.”

“Yes, we are,”

said Azazel beside her. “But the majority of our residents don’t know that, do they? In their eyes, Cain could easily give himself up to keep them safe. And when he doesn’t, they may turn against him. I think that is what Adam hopes for. These people came to us for protection, after all. If they believe we’re neglecting their safety, they may choose to leave. And if our population lessens, we’ll have less manpower in the event of an attack.”

Sitting on Cain’s left, Dantalion gave a slow nod, an angry flush staining his bronze skin. Like Azazel, he was mistaken by humans for a demon. Perhaps it was due to the many dark tales about him, or maybe it was due to the danger and callousness that he so blatantly exuded. “It would seem that Adam has decided to play the long game. He means to ensure that we are vulnerable before he makes his move on us. And in the meantime, he intends to finally get a hold of Wynter.”

“That won’t happen,”

Cain stated firmly, and his creature rumbled a sound of agreement.

“I doubt the residents would expect you to surrender her to Adam, given that we vow to never hand over those in our service to outsiders,”

said Dantalion, scraping a hand over his shadow of blond stubble. “But . . . they might expect her to make that sacrifice to protect the town. And when she instead stays here, they may not be happy with her.”

“Then we’ll have to make it clear to everyone that the town wouldn’t actually be safer if any of Adam’s terms were met,”

said Cain. “We can explain the situation. Or most of it. They’ll place more weight in our words than they ever will in that of an Aeon.”

Given that Ishtar would truly love nothing more than to have Wynter out of the picture, Cain expected his mouthy, jealousy-ridden, ex-lover to suggest that his consort give herself up. But Ishtar stayed suspiciously silent on the matter, absently playing with her blonde curls.

Maybe the hand her sister had placed on her arm was what kept her quiet. Or just maybe he’d finally gotten through to her that Wynter was here to stay, but that was probably wishful thinking on his part. It seemed more likely that Ishtar was merely biting her tongue for now. Perhaps because she sensed just how furious Cain was due to the threat now hovering over his woman.

“Even so, the price on Wynter’s head will be a problem,”

said Azazel, folding his arms. “You need to be prepared for that, Cain. No one will try to cash in on the bounty that Adam put on you—they won’t go up against an Ancient. But a revenant that they’re not truly convinced is a revenant? Some might decide to accept Adam’s offer and take her to him. At the very least, they’ll be tempted.”

Directly opposite Cain, Lilith nodded, making strands of her long red hair tumble forward. “Her being your consort will make people hesitate. But there are some who will be both stupid and greedy enough to consider cashing in on the bounty.”

Under no illusions about the people who resided at Devil’s Cradle, Cain was quite aware of that. There were plenty of criminals and dark-natured characters here who’d done far worse things than snatch and hand over a witch to claim a reward.

Cain forced his back teeth to unlock. “If anyone tries it, they’ll die. She’s more powerful than any of them realize.”

“Yes,”

began Lilith, “but if she’s killing people left, right, and center—even in her own defense—it might create resentment among the residents. Many belong to packs, covens, conclaves, and fey courts, etc. They wouldn’t take kindly to losing members of whatever their group might be.”

Wynter didn’t kill for shits and giggles. Her monster, though? Well, that was a whole other story. It ate people left, right, and center. Hence why his inner creature found the monster so intriguing and wanted to “meet”

it. Which would be a bad idea since, according to Wynter, the thing that lived inside her wanted only to kill—something it would do indiscriminately.

“I want to make something very clear,”

said Cain, sweeping his gaze over every person seated at the table. “If my consort is attacked by any of your people and forced to kill them in her own defense, there will be no repercussions for her.”

Generally, it was ruled that no resident could kill another unless either it was a matter of self-defense or they had the permission of the Ancient who owned the person they wished to execute.

Azazel flapped a hand. “That goes without saying.”

The others at the table echoed the sentiment and assured Cain that Wynter would face no ramifications in such an event—even Ishtar.

Lilith sat back as she exhaled heavily, her green eyes glimmering with annoyance. “I knew there was a chance that Adam would hesitate to immediately go to war, given that the other attempts to wipe us out by Aeons were unsuccessful. I knew he might well feel the need to be cautious and so take a little time to gather his forces. But I’d counted on him being so filled with the need for vengeance that he would be helpless to do anything but ignore common sense and immediately wage war on us.”

“Of course you did,”

said Dantalion. “We all did. Why would we not have, considering we sent Abel’s hacked-up body back to him?”

He thrust a hand through his short blond hair.

Seth shifted in his seat on Cain’s right, his amber eyes narrowed in thought. “I feel like we’re missing something.”

“In what sense?”

asked Inanna, the older sister of Ishtar, speaking for the first time. The siblings looked much alike, only Inanna’s hair was sleek and straight rather than curled, and she didn’t have Ishtar’s pointed chin. Inanna also possessed a poise and elegance that her sister lacked. Ishtar was more sensual and sultry, considering herself to be the ultimate seductress. “What troubles you?”

Inanna prodded.

Seth replied, “Adam has essentially prioritized getting his hands on Wynter. Someone as prideful, arrogant, and bloodthirsty as he is doesn’t just table vengeance so easily.”

“No, they don’t,”

agreed Cain. The Aeon was good at controlling his emotions, but not when it came to wounded pride. His self-restraint often then went out the window. Adam’s ego was a fragile thing. “Vengeance has to be a drumbeat in his blood right now. He’ll want me dead more than he ever did before. Adam has lost the prominent members of his family in one way or another, and he’ll blame me for each of those losses.”

Seth’s brows lifted, his expression going pensive. “Ah, yes. He lost me when I sided with you. He lost our sisters when they died during the first war—it won’t matter that the Aeons launched the attack, he’ll tell himself that there would have been no need for war if it hadn’t been necessary to eradicate you. Although he emotionally lost Eve a millennia ago, he lost her physically when she came here for sanctuary recently with Abel’s twins. To add to all that, Adam then lost Abel when you killed him during the last battle. Adam will for sure hold you accountable for all his ‘suffering.’ ”

“The latter loss will be the one he feels the hardest,”

said Cain. “Abel stroked his ego by wanting to be like him, by striving to please him, by being under his complete control until that last moment when he went against Adam’s orders and came for us.”

“Which will be another thing that Adam likely blames you for.”

Seth sighed, stroking a hand over his blond layered buzzcut. “You always were his favorite scapegoat. But despite all he’ll be feeling, he’s temporarily settling for turning our people against you in the hope of lessening our numbers. I truly do feel like we’re missing something.”

Poking his tongue into the inside of his cheek, Azazel looked at Seth. “You said that Adam’s prioritizing getting his hands on Wynter. That’s not entirely accurate. He’s prioritizing lifting the curse on Aeon. We have to wonder why.”

He paused. “I couldn’t get Saul to confess why it was that he believed it essential that Aeon didn’t fall. But he swore it must not happen.”

“I can’t imagine that Eden is once again using the underground city as her Resting place,”

said Dantalion, referring to God’s consort. “I don’t see what else would make it special.”

“I, too, struggle to see why the fall of Aeon would be such a dire event,”

said Azazel, scratching at the back of his head, making strands of his short dark hair spike up. “But maybe there really is some great reason why the Aeons believe it can’t happen. And just maybe that’s why Adam is willing to put the wellbeing of Aeon before seeking vengeance.”

“Or,”

began Ishtar, “maybe Adam simply insinuates to the other Aeons that the place must not fall so that they will not want to leave; so that they will believe there is a purpose to staying there—it is probably how he got them to stay for so long. Well, that and telling them that the rest of the world is a terrible place. But, really, what difference does it make? He is clearly going to make us wait, and there is absolutely nothing we can do about it. We are stuck here, and that is that.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking,”

said Seth. “Three of the Aeons who caged us are dead. The cage will have weakened. Not enough for us to shatter it, but maybe we could at least punch a hole through it. A hole big enough for us to exit through.”

Ishtar slid him a bored look. “That is a very nice thought, but it will not work.”

“You don’t know that,”

said Seth. “We haven’t tried. We won’t know unless we do.”

“Three of our jailors might be dead, but their power is still incorporated into the prison,”

Ishtar reminded him.

“Yes,”

Seth allowed. “But it’s no longer so potent now that they’re in the afterlife.”

“It does not matter. Until Adam too dies, the walls of the cage will remain strong. The Aeons used our blood to power it, remember? It was the only way they could seal it.”

“But they didn’t use Abaddon’s blood, since they didn’t believe he would live,”

said Seth, speaking of Cain’s uncle—an Ancient who, unknown to most, lay at Rest in Cain’s garden. “He could potentially open it. With our help, that is.”

Ishtar’s brow creased. “Are you forgetting that he is in some sort of coma?”

“No. But we could try waking him, couldn’t we? We never did before, because there didn’t seem much point when he would likely lose his shit at being confined.”

Who wouldn’t when, for them, it was only yesterday that their children and brothers were slaughtered in a war? “He wouldn’t be so furious if he woke to hear that three of our jailors are dead,”

Cain mused.

“But he would be if we didn’t manage to form a crack in the cage,”

said Ishtar. “Which we will not.”

“Don’t be so sure,”

said Seth. “All Hallows’ Eve is coming up. Our power will be stronger then. Always is. We could take advantage of that and try to pierce our prison on that very night. If we have Abaddon’s aid, I think it could work.”

Cain pursed his lips. “It’s certainly worth a try.”

Especially since someone had repeatedly called out to Wynter in her sleep and led her in the direction of the temple where Abaddon rested. Cain and Azazel had speculated that, even in sleep, Abaddon could be somewhat aware of the goings-on around him. If that was true, he might not be so hard to wake.

As if recalling their speculations, Azazel caught Cain’s eye and nodded. “I agree.”

Seth gave both Cain and Azazel a look of gratitude for taking him seriously. “It might pay to have Eve and the twins add their power to ours—they’re Aeons, after all. Strong. And each of them has a blood-link to either one or two of our jailors.”

They did indeed. The twins were actually fathered by none other than Abel. They’d helped Eve flee to Devil’s Cradle after learning that—in an effort to provoke Cain and throw him off his game—Adam had planned to kill her and then dump her body on the border of the town.

“Their contribution could therefore be truly helpful,”

Seth added.

Ishtar gave him a look that called him slow on the uptake. “If they are here on behalf of Adam they are hardly going to aid us in such a way.”

“But they might not be here on his orders,”

Seth pointed out. “We all recently agreed that they are likely not, remember. They certainly weren’t here on Abel’s behalf—he was prepared to see them dead.”

Ishtar let out a haughty sound. “I am still not inclined to trust them.”

“I’m not suggesting that we should.”

Seth spoke to everyone as he continued, “But consider that they’ve made no move against anyone since coming here. They also didn’t take advantage of our distraction during the battle with Abel to pull any kind of stunt. We all agreed to allow them to come and go from my Keep as they pleased because we wanted to see what they would do with their freedom. My people tell me that they haven’t done anything that could be considered remotely suspicious.”

Cain’s hirelings had reported the latter as well. The Aeons, unbeknown to them, were being closely and covertly watched by the hirelings of various Ancients.

Lilith absently doodled circles on the table with her fingertip. “According to my aide, they only venture out when they wish to go shopping. They haven’t tried squeezing information out of residents. They haven’t tried getting near Wynter’s cottage. Nor have they tried to sneak into Keeps or go nose around the manor.”

Dantalion sank deeper into his seat. “My hirelings said the same.”

“As did mine,”

Ishtar snippily admitted, “but I am still not ready to trust the Aeons.”

Seth’s eyelid twitched. “As I said, I’m not asking you to.”

“Assuming they are here with no ulterior motive, would they agree to be of assistance in this matter, Seth?”

asked Inanna. “They were not happy that we once considered them suspects when it became clear we had a traitor in our midst. And we have not exactly made an effort to right that wrong.”

“Eve will offer her aid,”

said Seth with utter surety. “She doesn’t hold what we did against us. She’s seen enough of what we suffered at the hands of other Aeons to understand why we had assumed another betrayed us.”

“What about Noah?”

asked Dantalion, referring to Abel’s son.

Seth hesitated. “He’s practical enough to understand why he came under suspicion but still appears hurt by it. I don’t know if he would be willing to help. As for his sister . . . She’s holding our distrust against us, unwilling to see why she might have once been a suspect—Rima has a chip on her shoulder.”

“Then the siblings are not likely to do us any grand favors.”

Inanna cut her gaze to Cain. “It might help matters if you appear to lower your guard around them. Eve desperately wants your trust, and I believe that the twins would also be responsive to it.”

“I’ve visited them a number of times at Seth’s Keep.”

Given that Eve had been out of his life since the day he and the other Ancients were first caged, it was still strange for Cain to have her around. She’d been clear that she wanted to “rebuild”

her relationship with him. Really, though, they’d never had one—Adam saw to that.

“But that is not an indicator of trust.”

Inanna paused. “Unless . . . did you take your consort with you?”

“No.”

Although Cain had come to believe that the Aeons likely had no ulterior motives for seeking sanctuary here, he wasn’t confident enough in that belief to allow them near his consort. He’d made it clear to the aides watching them that they should intervene if any of the trio attempted to approach her.

“I know you are highly protective of your consort,”

began Inanna, “and I can understand why you would wish to keep her away from the Aeons. But introducing her to them would go a long way to soothing any insult they feel. They would see it as a gesture that you are coming to accept and trust them; that you view them as family. They would then be more likely to help us escape this prison. And that is our ultimate goal, is it not?”

Ultimate goal or not, Cain felt absolutely no urge to introduce his consort to the Aeons. “I can smooth things over with them myself. I don’t need to pull Wynter into it.”

Dantalion snorted. “You have plenty of charisma, Cain. But they will be suspicious if you abruptly train it on them or act any differently. Inanna has the right of it—you need to appear to be lowering your guard around them. Actions speak louder than words, as the saying goes. Allowing them to officially meet your consort—”

“We might not need their help,”

Cain clipped.

“But it’s possible that we will.”

Azazel raised his hands. “Look, I don’t trust them around Wynter any more than you do. But if we are to pierce the prison, we need to take advantage of All Hallows’ Eve. That means we have one shot—this year, at least. I would prefer that the Aeons are there when we act. And think of it this way: We all want to know if they are here on Adam’s orders. If they agree to aid us in escaping this prison, it will tell us that they are not—he would never under any circumstances wish us to be free.”

Sighing, Cain swiped a hand down his face. Before he could respond to Azazel’s comment, Seth turned to him and spoke.

“You, Wynter, the Aeons, and I could all have dinner at my Keep tomorrow evening,”

Seth suggested. “Wynter would be safe, Cain. If anyone was going to make a try for her, it wouldn’t be while you and I were present, would it?”

“And she’s not exactly helpless, is she?”

Dantalion tacked on. “Can you honestly say, hand on heart, that you believe introducing her to them at Seth’s Keep during what will seem like a family dinner could lead to an attack on her life?”

In truth, the more Cain had spoken to and observed Eve, the more he’d come to trust his gut instinct that she meant Wynter no harm. He wasn’t so sure about the twins yet, though. He was certain of one thing—Seth was right; they wouldn’t dare make a move on her while two Ancients were present.

Cain would still much rather skip the introduction altogether. But it would be a gesture that’d help settle any ruffled feathers. And if the Aeons agreed to help, it would finally prove once and for all if they were here for Adam or not. Cain would rather know for sure if they were a danger to his consort.

“I’ll talk to Wynter,”

Cain told Seth. “If she’s willing to meet with them, we’ll go ahead with that dinner you mentioned. I doubt she’ll object.”

Ishtar examined her nails. “The help of the Aeons will not be enough to fracture our prison. We will need Abaddon if we have any real hope of accomplishing it. Personally, I doubt we will manage to wake him.”

“We have nothing to lose by trying,”

Dantalion pointed out.

Ishtar folded her arms. “And if Abaddon does wake and we do manage to fracture the cage, then what?”

Cain looked at her. “Then we take the war to Aeon, and we destroy every inch of the fucking place.”