“You get a name?”
“Callum.” Zane flicked his ash to the wind. “Never heard of him. He’s ancient. He’s been out of Hell a long time, if I had to guess.”
“Perhaps the coven summoned him a long time ago, and made a deal with him.”
“Maybe. Hell, I’d stick around for a witch’s soul.” He glanced over at me pointedly. “Have to make the trouble worth it.”
“Yeah? All that trouble with Juniper worth it?”
He exhaled sharply. “She’s a little monster. Vicious as hell, body like a fucking succubus. It’s worth it.”
The night grew colder as we stood there, passing the joint in silence. It always felt the same with Zane: always steady, the one constant through my few centuries of life. We could part for decades like it was nothing, then spend decades more in each other’s company.
A howl pierced the night, and Zane and I glanced toward the trees at the far side of the shore. Dark, long-legged shapes scuttled through the shadows, like massive spiders on the prowl.
Zane spat in the sand. “Fucking Eld. Been centuries since I’ve seen so many in one place.”
“They’ve been hunting Raelynn,” I said grimly. “Stalking her house. They’re forming packs. I nearly lost my arm to them.” I rolled my shoulder, where the tenderness still lingered deep, near the bone. It would heal eventually.
“They’ve been coming for Juniper too, but she holds her own well enough. They dug up her brother from the yard though.”
“Marcus?”
He nodded. “She buried him in the yard up at her cabin and the beasts dug him up.”
I shook my head. “She went down into the mine and got his body out?”
“Yeah. I went with her. Wouldn’t recommend it. Awful place.”
I had to laugh. I’d been feeling sorry for myself, but at least Raelynn wasn’t dragging me right onto the God’s doorstep. “She’s mad.”
“Completely. She’s going after the Hadleighs next.” He grinned at me. “Don’t think I’ll be able to convince her to save the old bastard for you to kill.”
“Dead is dead.” I shrugged. “Tell her to hurry up. It’s hard enough keeping Raelynn alive. Damn woman’s sense of self-preservation is broken.”
“If she’s spending time with you? Clearly.”
“Asshole.” I shoved my knuckles against his shoulder as I turned to go, and he caught my wrist, holding it captive.
“Hey. Don’t get yourself killed,” he said softly.
I scoffed. “I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll be reckless.”
“Hasn’t killed me yet —”
His fingers moved from my wrist to my throat, squeezed, yanked me forward so we were face to face. “Don’t. Get. Yourself. Killed.” Each word punctuated by a squeeze. The bar in his tongue flashed silver as he spoke, the mark I’d put there ages ago. “Got it, kid?”
I scowled. “I fucking hate that.”
“I know.” He let me go with a shove, and took another long drag from the joint. “Call me if you need me.”
“And you’d better do the same.”
I stalked away up the beach toward the road, where the truck was parked beneath a flickering streetlamp. Just before I reached it, I turned and yelled, “Hey! I’ll be fucking pissed if you die!”
He laughed. “Well, I’m not trying to piss you off, Leon. I’ve seen what happens to the poor bastards who do.”
I love you too, asshole.
The coordinates Zane gave me sent me deep into the northwestern forests. Perpetually wet and vibrant green, the air thick with the smells of the dirt and natural rot, I soon picked up the scent I’d been searching for: softly sweet and sharp, like berries crushed in pine needles. Witch’s magic permeated the air as surely as the rain. Inescapable and unmistakable.
The grimoire was her inheritance by any human right: but my name, my sigil, and my freedom that hinged on it, was mine. And I’d have it back one way or another.
I found the coven house in the early morning hours. The light permeated the trees in pale, wet shafts and illuminated a manor covered in creeping vines and tiny, budding white flowers. It looked like a cathedral overtaken by the woodland: its three spire-like towers rose up among the trees, their boughs grown lovingly around it, their roots curled close around the foundations, as if to guard it in a nest of hemlock and spruce, moss and ferns.
I kept my distance at first, stalking in a wide berth through the trees, surveilling the windows, the doors, trying to get any hint of what lay beyond those walls. I had limited experience with Hell’s terrifying royals, but for nearly an hour I was certain that Zane must have been wrong: there couldn’t be an Archdemon in that house.