Page 32 of Deranged Demons

I groan. I can’t deal with her rambling right now.“Never mind. I’m probably just imagining things.”

My stomach growls, and I lift from the couch and dress. The satchel of provisions is close by, and I grabout a parcel of dried bread, and make my way from the room, deciding to explore the house while I eat. I tell myself it’s not because I’m trying to avoid the others, but I don’t know who I’m trying to fool.

Shade perches on my shoulder as we make our way through the rooms on the ground floor. There’s not much to see. Charred walls. Broken pottery. The occasional scorched piece of furniture. We enter a room that has some kind of ancient burner in one corner, and I can only guess the space was designed as some kind of kitchen. The thought of a freshly cooked meal makes my stomach ache, despite the bread ration that I finished off while in the last room.

I sigh, knowing I should take over on watch duty so that one of the guys can get some rest. I’m about to leave the room when a piece of pottery buried in a pile of ash and dirt catches my eye. Bending, I pick up the rounded clay wedge and blow on it. The piece is charred, but the image of a winged bird is only just visible beneath the black.

When I go to put it back on the ground, I notice more shattered pottery closer to the wall. Likely, they’re all pieces from the same vase or bowl, but it’s not the clay shards that have my attention now. Amidst the pottery is a distinct black ring made of steel.

Squatting down, I brush away the dust and ash.

“Oh crap, is that what I think it is?”Shade practically squawks in my mind.

“I think so.”I brush my hand over the metal andhook two fingers into the ring and pull. The trap door comes free, dust pluming in the air as I reveal a set of stairs that leads down into darkness.

Shade swallows.“We’re not going down there, are we? Can’t we just close it and pretend we don’t know it’s there?”

“What? Aren’t you curious? We can’t simply turn around now.”

“Uh, yes girl, we can. In fact, let me show you.”She adjusts her feet and pivots her body so she’s facing backwards on my shoulder and looking back toward the doorway.

I grin.“If you want to go, you can. But I need to know what’s down there.”

I can practically hear her groan in my head, but she doesn’t fly off.“If I die, I want the record to state that this wasyourbright idea.”

“Done.”

Still grinning, I pull out one of my daggers and take a tentative step onto the first stair. It holds, the stone keeping intact beneath my feet, and I take two more steps. As I move, small yellow lights flare to life on the stairs like little glowing stars, lighting my way down. I’m on my tenth step, able to see dim shadows when light explodes around us, bright bulbs glowing brightly and buzzing where they’re suspended from the ceiling. Shade jumps on my shoulder, and I lift a hand to steady her.

“What is this place?” I say aloud in awe as I stare at what appears to be some kind of bunker. The air iscool and musty, and the walls of the space are covered in the most beautiful paintings I’ve ever seen. My eyes take in a forest filled with flowers and birds of every color of the rainbow. On another wall there’s a large fountain where water spurts from the mouths of stone fish, and on the floor near my feet is the depiction of two wings stretched out in front of a sun. It almost looks like some kind of family crest, similar to what each of the demon clans in Seral have.

Around the room, there are two chaise lounges, a marble table and chairs, and three doors leading to separate areas. I investigate what’s behind each door to find a room with two beds still dressed with sheets, some kind of antique washroom, and what looks to be a storage room with shelves packed with decorated pots. Everything is covered in a thick coat of dust, but there’s no ash, no blast damage. “It’s some kind of survival room,” I murmur out loud, hardly able to believe what I’m seeing. “I’ve always wondered, alwayshopedthat maybe some of the beings in Perstalia survived.”

“This is amazing,”Shade says carefully,“but even if there were beings down here once, they’re not here now. If anyone had survived, we would know by now.”

The reality of her words dims my excitement. Because even if beings had survived down here, when they finally ventured to the surface again there would have been nothing for them. And without food and water they would have had no hope. But I still feel like finding this place, with the paintings preserved,feels like a win. Satisfaction goes through me at the idea that the witches didn’t destroy everything. I’m not sure why it means so much to me. Maybe because with the witches infiltrating Seral City, I worry we could end up like Perstalia. But this… My excitement rises again when I think about the fact there could be more undiscovered bunkers around the city. Due to the toxicity of the city, as far as I know the city has hardly been explored, but now that we’re aware of the bunkers, maybe I can set up a team of demons to do some exploration.

Shade flaps from my shoulder, resting on the silver chaise lounge.“I’ll say one thing. It’s nice to see more useable furniture for a change.”

I smile as I turn and sheathe my dagger, focusing on the painting of the forest. The brush strokes of the leaves are flawless, the different shades of green blending together.“Check this out, Shade. It’s so lifelike.”

When she doesn’t respond, I turn my head.“Are you all right there, or is it too much—”The words die in my throat when I glimpse her laying unnaturally still on the lounge, her eyes closed and toes curled. And then I smell it. The faint scent of chocolate touches the air, the bitter sweetness at odds with the damp, musty room. The alluring smell makes my body loosen, but I know better. A whistling sounds to my right, and I drop down in time to avoid the throwing star that was aimed at my neck. The blade clangs as it collides with the stone wall behind me and drops to the ground.

More whistling sounds, and I spring into action,narrowly dodging three more stars that fly at me from seemingly nowhere.

“Show yourself,” I snarl, landing in a crouch.

There’s a pause, and I draw my dagger as an abnormally tall, cloaked figure materializes from behind the lounge. Despite his size, his movements are agile, and he sends three more stars my way in rapid succession. I maneuver out of the way, catching the last star in mid-air before it can soar past my head. Flicking my wrist, I send it back toward the figure, and it tears through the flap of his cloak. The blade doesn’t hit flesh, but my attacker gives a grunt of surprise and satisfaction rolls through me. I scan the distinct tribal tattoos on his bare arms, the inked circles and runes forming a familiar pattern.

My eyes widen. “You’re a Drozac. One of the legendary assassins from Rostof.” I say it as more of an accusation than a question.

The figure doesn’t respond, but I see it in his cool gray eyes. The swirling hatred and cold, calculated intelligence. The Drozac are ruthless and never miss their target once they’ve been assigned one. Unfortunately for this guy, I’m about to sully his reputation.

“You shouldn’t have touched my friend,” I growl. “What did you do to her?” Shade can’t have been his target, but I don’t think the Drozac worry themselves about collateral damage. I think about the other times I’ve detected the scent of bitter chocolate, and the chilling realization that this male has been followingus makes my anger rise.He targeted Shade because he sees her as my weakness.

The cloaked figure pulls out a dagger and rushes at me, but I’m quick to react, blocking his strikes and sending out a few of my own. I note the way the assassin carefully keeps his distance. He’s well-trained, able to deflect each of my moves, and his blade slices across my chest, cutting through my shirt and drawing blood.

I take a step back, but I don’t bother looking at the damage. My skin is already knitting back together. “If she’s dead, I won’t just kill you,” I say as I eye my attacker. “But you already know that, don’t you, Drozac?” I wonder what he’s seen while he’s watched me, and my thoughts go to Nate and Prince Callan.Fuck. Are they dead?I remind myself that if they were, I would have felt it, but panic still rushes through me.

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