I lifted my hands and then dropped them. “This is just fucking typical,” I muttered, crossing to the window and staring out at the darkening sky. “That big…really nice guy, actually, just stole my thunder.”
“What do you mean?”
I shook my head, then basically choked on the lump lodged in my throat. “I’m a fucking idiot, and I don’t really have the courage for this, and I’m definitely going to get myself killed or bungle up whatever Finley is doing, but…”
I turned back to her, and I knew my eyes were pleading with her to give me a slap or stuff a dildo in my mouth—anything to keep the words from escaping. But they came spilling out anyway.
“I know where the portals are. Roughly. And fuck it, I’m going to her. I have no choice. I have to.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I know that you know where the portals are. You mention it every time you get drunk. And I knew you were going to decide on going eventually. But I still didn’t know what I would say when you did. It’s a really bad idea, Hadriel.”
“No shit, Leala. Obviously it is a really bad idea. I haven’t a hope of helping. I’m probably going to ruin everything. But…I basically talked her into leaving.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Well, I made it sound doable. I have to go. And I have to get her back before the three months are up.”
“And now you have the possibility of Hannon helping,” she said.
I nodded. “He’s incredibly capable. And courageous.”
“And probably knows how to fight, just in case.”
“Does he?”
She grimaced. “No idea. I figured it would help your courage to say he did.” She stared at me as tears ran down her cheeks. “I don’t know how to fight.”
“Neither do I.”
“But I’ll go if you go.”
I shook my head. “Don’t do that. Don’t hang this on me. That’s a bitch move, Leala, and I won’t have it.”
“If you go, I’m going. And if you don’t go, you’re a coward.”
“What in the fuck?” I said, exasperated. Then the chafing of my shitty pants prompted me to say, “Think we can make that dickhead seamster go? I want payback for all the times he’s made me bullshit clothes. He does it on purpose! I know he does. He’s too good at his job to be that bad. I want to shove him in front of a demon and yell, ‘This is for the pants!’”
“When?” she asked quietly.
I tried to swallow with a suddenly dry mouth, then shook my head. “I guess whenever Hannon is ready. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go throw up, and then drink so much I can’t stand up straight.”
FOURTEEN
HADRIEL
A week after Leala and I had decided on the worst possible idea in the history of bad ideas, I hid behind a tree in my maid outfit. A real maid outfit this time, without my ding-a-ling hanging out. Leala thought I was being stupid. Hannon thought I looked ridiculous. But this motherfucker knew how to coast along the mediocrity line, and the maid outfit was the perfect ensemble for when we got captured. And we would be captured. The alternative was getting killed, and though that would be a fitting end to this terrible idea, it wasn’t part of the plan. A plan, I might add, that hinged on a lot of unknowns.
First, we needed to find some demons, preferably ones who worked in the castle. I hoped those types would be directly on the other side of the portal. I had no fucking idea what we’d do if they weren’t.
Then we needed to act bumbling and stupid so they wouldn’t get scared off by our sudden appearance and/or instantly try to kill us. If they did try to kill us, and we killed them first…bad news. （By “we,” I meant Hannon, obviously. Leala and I weren’t equipped to successfully kill anyone.） We’d need a Plan B in a hurry because the next wave of demons would probably also try to kill us. Eventually, the outcome wouldn’t be favorable. There was only so much one man and his cringing companions could do against a horde of demons.
Once captured, we needed to hope they took us to the castle and then down to the dungeons where Finley was almost certainly being kept. Hannon didn’t seem to think there were many other places they’d take us. Except to a shallow grave. He’d read up on what he could, so…we were going to trust he was right. We didn’t have much choice.
If Finley wasn’t in the dungeon…Plan B. Or maybe C…or F by that point.
This couldn’t be a stupider idea if we’d actively tried for it. Essentially, we were winging it and trying not to die. Which was probably what Finley had been doing the whole time she’d been gone.