Chapter 9

  She was sure her lungs were going to burst, her body weak and exhausted both physically and emotionally when she arrived back at the house in Hawthorne Hills.

  Arya had barely made it over the estate walls without being caught, the alarm shrieking at her back as she ran with the book.

  Even though she made it to her getaway car without issue, she was finding it impossible to catch her breath.

  “Were you followed?” Circe demanded, noting her face and Arya shook her head.

  “Of course not!” she chided, sliding the Chasm of Guile onto the table. “Obviously I wouldn’t have come here if I had been.”

  Circe didn’t look convinced and she peered out of the drawn blinds to ensure that the door to the bungalow was not about to be stormed.

  The lack of anything nefarious seemed to put her mind at ease, at least for the moment, and she turned back to Arya.

  “How is Jasmine?”

  “She’s sleeping. No change,” Circe replied, edging toward her friend, her hands outstretched to look at the book but Arya held it back, wanting to see what she had risked her life to grab.

  It’s worth it. You can’t be taken by whatever proclamations Dante made. He said the same bullshit before, and he left you then. You’re not going to fall for the same thing twice and you’re not exposing your child to such a dangerous man. He would probably take Jasmine from you and you would never see her again if you gave him the chance.

  But as she stood staring at the pages in her hands a wave of guilt and excitement washed over her in unison.

  He had seemed so sincere…

  “Did you see him?” Circe asked and Arya realized her friend was reading her thoughts.

  “Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it right now. Not when we have the most valuable book in the universe in front of us.”

  “Open it!” Circe urged. Arya did not need to be told a second time. She cautiously pulled the heavy cover open and they gasped.

  Indeed, it was a living, breathing creation, one which had been around as long as time itself.

  No one knew from where the book had come, exactly. It was older than the Earth and had outlived even the most immortal souls, growing and evolving to include the influences of all immortals who had come in contact with it.

  Yet as she gaped at the miracle which was the Chasm, she had no idea what she was staring at. It was not encoded, per se, but it seemed to be as clear as an encrypted computer program.

  Neither Arya nor Circe had the know-how to decipher the spells or secrets in its depths. Someone more powerful than them would need to examine it.

  “I have to get the book to Rowan,” Arya muttered but her friend didn’t seem to hear her, as Circe’s eyes were fixated on the priceless book.

  Arya turned from the room as she heard a noise down the hall.

“I’ll be right back, Circe. Keep an eye on the book!” she whispered harshly as she crept stealthily toward the bedrooms to check on Jasmine.

  Finding nothing amiss, she ducked into the room to look upon her daughter. Her heart welled with concern as she perched on the edge of the toddler bed, reaching forward to straighten the matted red curls around Jasmine’s face.

  The girl’s face was waxen, even in the dim nightlight aura and Arya’s mouth pursed together.

  She was on borrowed time for Jasmine.

  “Fight just a little longer, baby,” she whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Mama will come back for you in a little bit.”

  Arya rose and hurried into her bedroom to change, throwing on a black Adidas tracksuit and black t-shirt. She stuffed her ginger waves under a ballcap and shoved her feet into a pair of running shoes, making her way back toward the front of the house.

  “You shouldn’t go alone,” Circe told her, looking up from where she remained staring at the book. “I don’t trust Rowan.”

  Arya scoffed.

  “You just came up with this now? The entire purpose of this was to trust Rowan,” she retorted. “Give me the book.”

  Circe’s head cocked to the side, her stylish blue-black curls falling over her forehead.

  “Something’s not right,” she insisted. “I feel like you’re being set up.”

  Arya ignored the tingle of fear sliding through her body.

  “What other choice do I have?” she muttered, grabbing the Chasm of Guile and throwing it into a canvas bag. “Jasmine’s life is on the line.”

 Circe studied her face.

  “How did you get it?” she asked curiously, and Arya’s face flushed crimson.

  “I told you, I snuck into the fundraiser.”

  “And you just happened upon it while security was milling around?”

  “What do you want me to say, Circe?” Arya said defensively. “I’m that good.”

  The goddess’ eyes widened with understanding.

  “You seduced him!” she gasped, an amused smile touching her lips. “That’s how you got in and out without being killed.” Circe whooped with glee. “He so deserved that! After the way he left you, I’m just grateful you got to stick it to him once,” she crowed.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Arya muttered, spinning to leave the house. “I’m taking your car.”

  But even as she left, Circe’s words of caution inside the house reverberated in her mind.

  The truth was, she had gone there to seduce Dante, believing that if she saw him again, it would end the ridiculous “what if” which had been playing in her mind.

  She had convinced herself that Dante was as cruel as his reputation, someone who could not be trusted – especially with a child! For years she had kept him purposely in the dark about his daughter, feeling that it was in Jasmine’s best interest, but seeing him that night, she just wasn’t so sure anymore.

  He’s just seduced me with his demonic charms – again. I know now that he’s dangerous and can turn me to putty with a simple look. The best thing I can do, is stay away – far away. Now that I’ve stolen from him, his true colors will surely show and I’ll know I made the right decision back then. I’m sure he has his minions tearing up the Strip right now looking for me. Once Jasmine is cured, we’ll get out of Seattle and go somewhere safe, somewhere he can’t find us.

  First things first; Jasmine needed the Shroud of Protection.

  As she backed Circe’s Prius out of the driveway, her friend’s accusation rang in her mind.

  “You seduced him!”

  Arya pressed her foot to the gas and zipped up Sand Point Way toward I-5, her heart beating guiltily.

  It was true; she had gone to the charity event with the intention of finding Dantalion Carmichael and seducing him. She wanted to reclaim the upper hand he seemed to have had over her since the minute they had met.

  The primary things she was feeling weren’t the smugness and satisfaction she thought she would feel right now, though. 

  Instead, she felt more confused than ever, questioning what she was about to do.

  It’s not too late, she told herself. You can return the Chasm and beg him for forgiveness and maybe he’ll spare your life. He might even let you use the book and you can find another priestess to enact the Shroud.

  Arya dismissed the weak thought, chiding herself silently for being so easy to give in to his wiles yet again.

 Once bitten, twice bitten harder? she accused herself.

  He had already proved that he couldn’t be trusted. All the excuses in the world would not change the fact that he was the most vicious demon of all and a lord of the Deviant underworld.

  Begging for forgiveness was never an advisable action in their world – it just showed weakness and told others she was ripe for the picking. No, she had to fight her way out of this just like she always did. Don’t depend on anyone but yourself! That’s the only motto that could guarantee anything, most importantly – Jasmine’s safety.

  A bitter moan of resignation escaped Arya’s lips.

  There was no going back now. Rowan was a sure thing. Dante had a bad track record. The choice was clear. She had to follow through with her promise to Rowan.

       ~ ~ ~

  The psychic shop was lit up, an eerie glow against the seedy street.

  Arya had not forewarned the high priestess that she was coming that night, but oftentimes, Rowan could anticipate her arrivals.

  Still, she sat in the car, unmoving, her green eyes fixed on the shop for signs of movement within, waiting for anyone to exit so she could be at least a little surer that Rowan would be alone.

  Interrupting Rowan while she was with a client would surely result in the sorceress’s wrath, no matter what prize Arya had. Yet as the minutes passed, her stress levels mounted and Arya could wait no longer – not when her child’s health lay in the balance.

  She jumped from the car and hurried toward the entranceway, pulling the door open in a rush and squeezing the prized book to her chest as she entered the hazy shop.

  It was the quintessential spiritualist shop, decorated with bronze suns and silver moons. The Eye of Providence hung conspicuously in three spots beyond a beaded curtain, and as Arya ventured further inside the small shop, the scent of nag champa incense filled her nostrils.

  She didn’t hear voices at first, as she moved past the makeshift partition toward the back office where she saw that the door was closed.

  “…done it, I’m sure. Any moment, we’ll know.” Rowan’s voice floated to her ears and Arya pushed forward, hand raised to knock and let her teacher know she had arrived.

  “I’m looking forward to meeting this girl,” a man said and Arya felt her body stiffen at the sound of his voice. “It takes a great deal of balls to do something like that.”

  Who is that? Arya wondered, alarm coursing through her. She could sense an inky darkness beyond the door, but she couldn’t place from where the voice came from.

  Do I know that man? His voice isn’t familiar and yet…

  “She had the proper motivation,” Rowan replied, her tone almost a purr of satisfaction. “If the reward is good enough, you can get anyone to do anything at all.”

  “You must tell me what you offered her, Rowan. I can’t imagine that anyone would be stupid enough to take on Dantalion Carmichael unless she had a death wish.”

  Rowan chuckled dryly.

  “And yet you’re taking him on, aren’t you, Uvall?” she challenged him.

  There was an ominous silence and suddenly, Arya knew there was a demon within the shop.

   The demon Uvall is here and they’re talking about me! They’re talking about the book. Rowan lied to me. She doesn’t want the Chasm. She’s giving it to another demon!

  Arya didn’t have to be told the repercussions of what would happen if the book fell into the wrong demon hands. There was a reason it had always only been bequeathed to the most powerful demons.

 What were you thinking? Of course, the book would be no benefit to Rowan alone. You just stole from a Deviant overlord and abetted a mutiny! Oh, fuck my life. This just keeps getting better.

  “I feel like you’re mocking me, Rowan,” Uvall said pleasantly, the lack of malice in his voice proving to be a terrifying indicator of the power he held. “And I think you know how much I despise being mocked.”

  “I’m not! I swear!” Rowan squealed, her voice higher than Arya had ever heard it.

  Panic prickled through her, every instinct telling her to run, but she couldn’t bring herself to move, she was frozen. Any sudden movement, and they would be alerted to a spiritual presence, and any panic she exuded could be picked up in an aural presence. Honestly, she was surprised they hadn’t sensed her yet.

  “Why has your girl stolen the book? What have you promised her?” he demanded conversationally.

  A strange choking noise met Arya’s ears and she realized that Rowan was being telepathically attacked by the demon beyond the door. She clutched the bag to her chest, stepping back.

  I have to get out of here! Whatever’s happening, I can’t give the book to Rowan, and I definitely can’t let it get into Uvall’s hands – he’ll start a Deviants war for sure. Damnit, I screwed this up bad!

  The reality of what was happening flooded Arya like a wave and she chomped on her lower lip to keep from crying out, but now she couldn’t force herself to leave for another reason. She needed to hear everything from Rowan’s lips.

  “Tell me,” Uvall barked.

  “I promised her a Shroud of Protection for her child.”

  “Her child?”

  “The baby has HID. She’s half demon.”

  Another ominous silence ensued and then suddenly, a low, sinister laugh filled the room.

  “And you promised her a Shroud? You know you cannot give her such a thing, right? That is something only a lord of the Deviant underworld can provide for her.”

  “She doesn’t know that,” Rowan laughed. “She thinks the spell inside the book will heal her brat.”

  The world around Arya began to spin as Uvall’s chortle grew louder.

  “Oh, that is fresh!” the demon howled. “She’s going to be pissed when she learns the truth.”

  “It doesn’t matter. When I have the book, I’ll disclose her location anonymously to Dantalion’s minions, and they’ll deal with her. Permanently, I’m sure. She’s not going to be an issue for long.”

  “Pity that,” Uvall sighed. “She sounds like she’d be an asset to my team. Ah well, you’ll simply have to find me another motivated thief.”

  “And I will,” Rowan assured him. “I trained this one, after all. If not for the need to use that kid against her, she may have been useful for many centuries to come.”

  “The good ones always fall,” Uvall agreed philosophically.

  The cold delivery of that statement was the tipping point for Arya, and she spun blindly to stumble out of the shop before they could sense her there.

  She’d been duped by Rowan! There wasn’t anything the priestess could do to save Jasmine.

  And she had made a mortal enemy out of the only being who could help her save her baby.

   Pushing her way out of the shop silently, she made her way to Circe’s car and zoomed away, tears stinging her eyes.

  If Dante so much as sees me, he will kill me. There will be no explaining my case to him. He’ll listen to me about as much as I listened to him when he tried to tell me what happened that night. I got what I wanted, for him to feel betrayed, just as I felt back then, but at what cost?

  She could barely see through the waterworks slipping down her cheeks, her breathing as labored as her baby’s had been for weeks.

  There was nothing left to do except find a safe place to hide until Jasmine succumbed to her illness. No cure and no hope. She could hear the sound of her heart shattering in the stillness of the night.

  And then I’ll find a way to return the book to Dante, and I will die too.