“And we’re supposed to take you at your word that you’re innocent?” Bryce pushed.
“Do you call me a liar, Bryce Quinlan?”
Bryce said, cool and calm as a queen, “You mean to tell me that there are Reapers who can simply defect and serve Hel?”
“From whence do you think the Reapers first came? Who first ruled them, ruled the vampyrs? The Reapers chose Midgard. But I am not surprised some have changed their minds.”
Bryce demanded, “And you don’t care if Hel steps into your territory?”
“Who said they were my Reapers to begin with? There are none unaccounted for here. There are many other necropolises they might hail from.” And other half-life rulers they answered to.
“Reapers don’t travel far beyond their realms,” Hunt managed to say.
“A comforting lie for mortals.” The Under-King smiled faintly.
“All right,” Hunt said, fingers tightening around Bryce’s. The Under-King seemed to be telling them the truth. Which meant … Well, fuck. Maybe Apollion was the one who’d sent the Reapers. And if that part was true, then what he’d said about Emile …
Bryce seemed to be following the same train of thought, because she said, “I’m looking for two people who might be hiding out here. Any insight?”
“I know all the dead who reside here.”
“They’re alive,” Bryce said. “Humans—or part-humans.”
The Under-King surveyed them once more. Right down to their souls. “No one enters this land without my knowledge.”
“People can slip in,” Hunt countered.
“No,” the creature said, smiling again. “They cannot. Whoever you seek, they are not here.”
Hunt pushed, “Why should we believe you?”
“I swear upon Cthona’s dark crown that no living beings other than yourselves are currently on this island.”
Well, vows didn’t get much more serious than that. Even the Under-King wouldn’t fuck with invoking the earth goddess’s name in a vow.
But that left them back at square one. If Emile and Sofie weren’t here, and couldn’t even enter … Danika had to have known that. She’d have been smart enough to look into the rules before sending them here for hiding.
This was a dead end. But it still left Apollion looking for the kid—and them needing to find him before anyone else.
So Hunt said, “You’ve been enlightening. Thanks for your time.”
But Bryce didn’t move. Her face had gone stony. “Where’s the green and sunlight you showed me? Was that another comforting lie?”
“You saw what you wished to see.”
Bryce’s lips went white with rage. “Where’s the Pack of Devils?”
“You are not entitled to speak to them.”
“Is Lehabah here?”
“I do not know of one with such a name.”
“A fire sprite. Died three months ago. Is she here?”
“Fire sprites do not come to the Bone Quarter. The Lowers are of no use.”
Hunt arched a brow. “No use for what?”
The Under-King smiled again—perhaps a shade ruefully. “Comforting lies, remember?”
Bryce pressed, “Did Danika Fendyr say anything to you before she … vanished this spring?”
“You mean before she traded her soul to save yours, as you did with your own.”
Nausea surged through Hunt. He hadn’t let himself think much on it—that Bryce would not be allowed here. That he wouldn’t rest with her one day.
One day that might come very soon, if they were caught associating with rebels.
“Yes,” Bryce said tightly. “Before Danika helped to save this city. Where’s the Pack of Devils?” she asked again, voice hitching.
Something large growled and shifted in the shadows behind the Under-King, but remained hidden by the mists. Hunt’s lightning zapped at his fingers in warning.
“Life is a beautiful ring of growth and decay,” the Under-King said, the words echoing through the Sleeping City around them. “No part left to waste. What we receive upon birth, we give back in death. What is granted to you mortals in the Eternal Lands is merely another step in the cycle. A waypoint along your journey toward the Void.”
Hunt growled. “Let me guess: You hail from Hel, too?”
“I hail from a place between stars, a place that has no name and never shall. But I know of the Void that the Princes of Hel worship. It birthed me, too.”