Page 12

I haul myself to my feet and bound toward the balcony door with resolve. Peering over the side of the stone rail, I carefully maneuver myself over to see what’s below, satisfaction sparking when I spy another balcony about twenty feet down and another below that. Four balconies between me and the ground.

I can climb that. I nod as if to convince myself. I can. It’s not that…far. A hundred feet? I grimace. Me and Syra spent a good deal of our childhood climbing the roofs of our castle. Back before we were shrouded and kept under such a careful thumb. My investigation doesn’t turn up any good footholds for climbing. Only smooth black stone.

I’m going to need a very long rope.

When I retreat back inside, a plate with my breakfast has been slid under the door. I curse myself. If I wasn’t outside, I could’ve tried to get information out of whoever brought it for me.

I pick at the eggs and add the toast to my stash. Once finished, I scour the chambers, foraging for supplies to aid in my escape. In one of the dusty chests stowed against the wall is a plethora of weapons. Knives and swords in all shapes and sizes. He really isn’t worried about me finding these?

I stash two more knives in the couch and one into the soil of a potted plant—just in case he does decide to lock them up. I’m scavenging through the oddities of one of the larger chests when there’s a sharp prick to the tip of my finger.

“Ouch,” I cry, bringing my bloodied finger up to close my lips around it. I lean down to ascertain the source and something shifts among the rubble. Something very much alive and winged shoots up and flies straight toward my face. I startle back and, in my haste to flee, trip over my own feet and fall backward onto the floor. There’s another sharp prick of pain against my shoulder. I swat my hands wildly, make contact and manage to whack the creature out of the air.

The source of pain reveals itself to be a sewing needle embedded an inch into the side of my shoulder. I pull it out between my pointer finger and thumb and search for the thing that has put it there. A tiny man no bigger than the length of my foot pulls himself off of his belly. Small horns protrude from the mop of black hair. Bat-like wings flutter and propel him into the air. He’s wearing a pair of tiny black trousers but has no shirt or shoes.

He levels himself with my face, and I scamper up onto the couch to evade him, illogical as it is, as he has wings. He nears me once more, yet not as close as the first time, blinking large black eyes. A strong smell of fire accosts my nostrils.

A demon. In the flesh.

Not like the one bound to my soul but a physical entity like I’ve seen depicted in illustrations. “Stay back, demon!”

He bares two rows of tiny, pointed teeth and growls. I squat down to pull the knife out from the cushion and hold it out in a threatening position. “Go away! Get!” I say, waving the knife wildly.

He flattens tiny arms across his chest indignantly and points his nose. “You go away. I live here.”

I jab the knife in his direction a few more times, and he backs up, yet not far enough for my liking. His large eyes go even rounder. “You’re going to stab me?”

“You stabbed me first!”

“That’s because I thought you were him,” he spits distastefully.

I falter, lowering the knife a few inches. “You mean the prince?”

He makes a face of disgust. “Yes, him.”

“You’re his demon, aren’t you? You do his bidding?” I accuse.

He looks down at himself as if to imply that’s the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard. “I look nothing like a demon. Have you seen one? They’re hideous! I am an Imp. And yes, he’s my master, but that doesn’t mean I have to like him.”

He flutters closer to sniff at me. “I can feel her. How?” He gasps. “Did she send you here to kill me? I’ve been trying to get her out. I have. But it hasn’t been easy, no, no it hasn’t been easy. I got banished to the Otherworld and I’ve tried to convince my new master into retrieving her, but he doesn’t listen—“

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. The only person that’s sent me here is my father.”

His brow wrinkles. Feeling slightly ridiculous, I find myself explaining the predicament of my marriage to this creature.

His eyes gleam. “But you came from the Wastelands. She has sent you.”

I shake my head. He’s no longer even paying me any attention, sniffing at the air before he lowers himself to my plate and begins devouring it in a way that doesn’t seem possible for his size.

“Hey! That’s mine!” An idea strikes me, and I heave the plate out from underneath him, holding the knife out in front of me once more. He looks so aghast I almost feel bad for doing so. “You want this food?” He nods obsequiously.

“Then I need answers.”

He leans back against the coffee table and props a leg up on his other knee as he peers at his fingernails…no black pointed claws . “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about him. The prince.”

He huffs. “Pff, he’s awful.”

Not like I didn’t already know that. “Did he lock you in that chest?”

He nods gravely.

“Why?”

He snorts again. “Have you met him? Does he need a reason?”

I have, unfortunately. “Where does he go during the day?”

He opens his mouth to speak but only gets out a garbled grunt before bursting into flames. I startle back with a sharp gasp. The flames are already petering out. He appears from behind them unscathed.

Well, that explains the smell.

“He has forbidden me from speaking of it.”

“How long does he stay gone?”

“He’s always gone. He only comes back to sleep.” Lifting himself into the air, he settles on the plate and I relent placing the knife and plate on the table before dropping on the sofa with a sigh, now that I don’t seem to be in any immediate danger.

“What do you think they intend to do with me?”

He breaks from snarfing the plate of food. “Nothing good. He kills everyone around him,” he says darkly. “You should leave.”

“Yes…but how?”

He turns his oversized eyes on me, blinking. “The door?”

“He’s locked it with his magic.”

He raises his brows and cocks his head. “Unlock it?”

“I can’t. I don’t have magic. I’m a… nought , as they call it.”

His forehead wrinkles as he looks me up and down like he’s never even heard of such a thing before.

“Do you think you could help me? Find a way out of here?” My desperation truly has hit the bottom of the barrel if I’m asking for help from this… creature.

“He is my master. I am bound to him. Unless--” He sucks in a breath and hops up. “You could be my master!”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’ll be bound to do anything you say.”

“That’s it? Is there some kind of catch?”

He shakes his head with a gleam in his eye I don’t deem altogether trustworthy. “Are there other people out there like me? Noughts?”

“Noughts. There are loads of them.”

“There are?” He makes a noise of surprise when I pick him up and shuffle toward the bedroom. “Where are they at?” I ask, pointing up at the map.

“They are not here. They are beyond . But I know someone who can take you to them.”

“Beyond…beyond this map?

He nods.

“Who?”

“My former master.” He wriggles out of my hold and perches himself on my shoulder. “I can take you to her. And she can take you to the noughts.”

I bite at my lip. “Do you think she would do that?”

He nods eagerly. “She would.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s stuck in the Wastelands. You must make yourself my master, and then I could take you to her.” Something in his eyes is too eager, too wanting.

The Wastelands? That’s what he called Eden. “I don’t know…” Not sure I should be making deals with a creature that looks suspiciously like a demon… “Let me think about it. First, I need to find a way out of here."

I tear the chambers apart and put them back again. My efforts don’t turn up much at all. Once I’m certain there isn’t a single rope anywhere in the nooks and crannies of these chambers, I set to work cutting my blanket into strips and braiding it into a cord I hope turns out to be strong enough to hold my weight.

The thing that is not a demon doesn’t turn out to be a great source of information or even… company for that matter. He’s too easily distracted, prattling on about returning to his former master, which he mysteriously won’t tell me anything about, sometimes breaking into tirades that don’t seem to be aimed at anyone but himself.

Even worse, he sniffs out the rolls and toast I stashed in the vase and tears through those as well. Only shrugging when I ream him for it.

My blanket does not prove to be enough material to make a very long cord. I sneak back into his bedroom and steal a couple tunics from his closet, too afraid to take any more than that lest he notices before I make my escape. I also cut one of the two dresses he’s provided for me. Even with the blanket, the two tunics, and the dress woven into the cord, the rope barely reaches the next balcony.

When I retreat back into the chambers the creature’s scarfing down my lunch that’s been slid under the door while I was out. I tear the plate away with a curse. Not only did I miss my chance to question the person bringing the food again, but he’s eating up all of my escape supplies.

“I’m saving these!” I huff, tearing the two rolls off the plate and stuffing them back into the vase. “Don’t eat them.”

“I don’t have to listen to you because you’re not my master,” he says tauntingly. “But if you make me your master, then I will have to do as you say.”

I let out a bedraggled sigh, my options unbearably slim. “You can have the rest of this, but I have a favor to ask of you. If I tie this rope from the balcony and climb down, could you fly up, untie it, and throw it down to me?”

He nods. “If you were my master, I would.”

“What does that entail exactly?”

He buzzes into the air and disappears into the bedroom, flying out seconds later, a pencil lodged under his arm and a piece of paper trailing behind him. His body dips with the weight of it. Settling onto the coffee table, he uses both hands to scrawl something across the paper.

I edge forward trepidly. It’s a slow process for the small creature as he uses his whole body to scratch the pencil across the paper. He finishes, tosses the pencil down, and disappears back into the bedroom. This time, he comes out holding a small piece of chalk.

“You’ll have to move this stuff.”

“The furniture?”

He nods. “And the rug.”

Still leery, I do as he instructs, scooting the couch back several feet and then the coffee table. I roll the rug back, baring the wood floor underneath. There’s already a circle burned into the floor there, and he outlines it with the chalk. He buzzes out of the room and back, carrying a stack of small round candles, which he promptly spaces out around the circle.

My eyes widen as a small flame emits from his finger. He makes his way around the circle lighting the candles one at a time. A grin paints his face, eyes glinting greedily, reflecting the orange flickers of candlelight in his otherwise dark eyes.

There’s no way he isn’t a demon.

He pats the floor beside him. “Come, come. I can help you,” he coaxes again, rubbing his hands together when he sees me dithering.

I position myself in the middle of the circle, and he swipes the paper off the coffee table and hands it to me. “All you have to do is read these words.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all,” he promises.

“I don’t know how to pronounce these,” I say looking at the foreign jumble of letters.

He waves a hand. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“What do these even mean?”

“That’s my name.”

“This is your name?”

“Yes, but you may call me Div.”

I suck in a deep breath. Limited options. Stay with the witch. Bind myself to a demon and get out of here. The demon is annoying, but I haven’t witnessed him murder any children, at least, and besides, I’m already tainted by the dāemon. The handwriting is crude, and I stumble over the words. “ Divalion, Caacrinolaas, Caassimolar, Classyalabolas, Glassia-labels, Glasya Labolas, Gaylos-Lobos, I invoke your name and summon you to me.”

I jolt as the place where Div is standing is engulfed in flames that rise up around the outline of the circle, too, trapping me inside. The flames crackle, the heat wafting against my face. They dissipate as suddenly as they came on, and I feel a pressure against my shoulder. I look over to find Div seated there.

He grins. “It is done.”