Revenant(81)

Magma crystals, found only in Sheoul, were rare and precious, coveted by necromancers to use in powerful spells. By all accounts, the mining of them was so dangerous that no one volunteered to do it. Slave labor was the only way the things could be acquired.

“I tried to escape,” he continued in a raspy, tormented voice. “For ten years I tried to find a way to get back to my mother. What I didn’t know until later was that every time I made a break for it, she was hurt. Raped. All the usual stuff they do to females. So, yeah. You follow the fucking rules no matter what, because if you don’t, bad shit happens.”

Blaspheme’s throat felt raw, as if she were the one to have shared that horrible story. To have shared the screams that had no doubt been wrenched from him.

“Revenant,” she whispered.

His head came up with a snarl. “Don’t.”

Ignoring him, she moved forward, and again, he backed up. But this time, she didn’t stop until he hit the bedroom wall. He snarled again, baring his fangs. Like a wounded animal, his behavior was defensive, not aggressive, and she knew instinctively he wouldn’t hurt her.

“Easy.” Very slowly, she cupped his face between her hands and met his haunted gaze. “Thank you for telling me. You don’t have to say anything more. But if you want to, I’m here for you.”

His dark eyes roamed her face, searching, she assumed, for sincerity. Little by little, the last traces of resistance vanished, and he hauled her against him. His strong arms surrounded her, but she got the feeling it was she who was holding him up as he hugged her tight, burying his face in her hair, his body as stiff as a backboard.

They stood like that for a long time, until he finally murmured, “Are you for real, Blaspheme?”

She pulled back, found herself looking up into those fathomless black eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve got shit coming at me from all sides… from my brother, from Heaven, from Sheoul. You’re the only thing that makes sense right now. I can’t get fucked over by you, too.”

How bizarre it was that they were both in very similar situations, and that only made her feel extra guilty for lying to him.

Maybe she should tell him the truth. Or at least tiptoe around the truth to see how he’d feel about… about what? Screwing a vyrm? Confessing his sins to someone who had been lying about who they were?

Even if he didn’t want to slaughter her for being a vyrm, he’d probably do it for lying to him.

Finally, she settled for a response that was one hundred percent truthful. “I would never intentionally hurt you. Please believe me when I say that.”

Revenant opened his mouth to say something, but a muffled buzz drew both of their focuses to her purse on the floor.

“I wouldn’t have thought I’d get cell service down here.”

He shrugged. “Demon technicians can do pretty much anything.” He gestured to the purse. “Go ahead and get it. We should get going anyway. Gethel’s waiting.”

The reminder made her groan. A groan that was cut short by the distinct buzz tone of her mother’s instant message handle.

She fished the phone out of her bag as Revenant left her alone in the bedroom. The screen blinked, and Deva’s kitten avatar popped up. Her mother loved cats. Practically lived for Cat Saturday on theCHIVE.

Honey, r u there?

Blaspheme typed out her response with one finger. I’m here, Mom. Where are you? Are you safe? How are you feeling?

I feel ok. I’m safe. R u?

Damn, Blas hated the shortcut crap. She made it a point to type out everything properly, even if it took a million times longer. I’m fine. Why did you run?

The male in the clinic. He’s the 1 I told u about.

Blaspheme frowned. What one you told me about?

There was a pause that took way too long. Long enough that Blas managed four laps around the bedroom before her phone finally vibrated in her hand. When she looked down, what she saw stopped her heart dead in her chest.

The male called The Destroyer. Blaspheme, the fallen angel in the clinic… he’s The Destroyer. He’s the bastard who killed your father.





Twenty-Three





Revenant waited for Blaspheme on his front porch, looking out into the bottomless chasm that circled his house and the ten acres of land surrounding it like a waterless moat. He’d lived in this impenetrable fortress for three decades, basking in the privacy that was broken only when he brought someone here or made the stone bridge visible to those he invited.

Like the food delivery dude.

He’d liked it here, he supposed, but now he wanted something different. Better. More befitting of someone like Blaspheme.

She didn’t belong in a place like this. Hell, she didn’t belong in Sheoul at all.