Page 38 of Hell Bound

A muscle twitched in Jovran’s jaw as Deasley and Pypentha averted their eyes from him. If they were in wolf form, their ears would have been pinned flat to their skulls.

“Then look athim,” he told me quietly, gesturing at Killian. “Do you remember who he was?”

Killian’s absent smile was like a knife to the heart. I’d heard tales of who he’d been before the real Killian had been lost forever.

This pale shadow was all that remained of a fearsome warrior.

“That wasn’t Lilith’s fault.”

“Then think of Travan.” He gripped his bone necklace, the runes flashing silver where he’d engraved them, and thumped his hand on his chest. “Ever since you became involved with her, the two of you have caused nothing but pain and destruction for those around you. You became a monster, Lucifer—”

In less than a second, I had crossed the room and pinned him to the door, my hand just tight enough around his throat to remind him of who had become the commander here, and how.

“I wasmadeinto a monster,” I told him quietly. “Your hands are no cleaner than mine. This pack will defend the queen to their dying breaths as long as they follow me. If you do not wish to do so, I will assume your loyalties lay with Asmodeus. Perhaps you can join Odragir. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind another lap dog trailing after him.”

I gave the slightest squeeze to emphasize my words, letting my claws slip out and barely prick his skin.

Jovran stared into my eyes, his lips drawn back over his teeth. “I have no loyalty for that bastard.”

“Then let this be your warning. The queen is a prisoner here as much as we are, and we are duty-bound to protect her.” I released Jovran, looking from him to Deasley, Pypentha, and Killian. “If you are not with me, you are against me.”

Deasley flicked a tiny salute. “Aye aye, Commander.”

Jovran exhaled and bowed his head. “Yes, Commander.”

* * *

There wasone person in the Infernal Court who could free Lilith once more, and the Crone was almost precisely where I had left her.

She was easy to spot, a hunched figure in tattered blue robes, sifting through the leaves on the forest floor.

I gave extra weight to my footsteps as I padded towards her, alerting her to my presence. Leaves crunched and her head jerked up, swiveling around until she was facing me.

“Oh…” She took a long, deep sniff, raising her head as though she could see me through the ivory plates growing over her eyes. The thin, cracked sound of her voice was reminiscent of the sound of Travan’s neck breaking in my grasp. “Morningstar. What a pleasant surprise this lovely morning.”

I shifted, my fur receding and paws lengthening to toes and fingers until I stood upright. “Crone. There is nothing pleasant about this visit. And it’s night.”

She shuffled around, and I saw she carried a stained sack. A yellowing femur stuck out from the top as the contents clanked. “Have you come seeking more magic for your love? Such a pretty little thing, when she’s not all banged up by that awful husband of hers.”

I wanted the same thing I had asked for last time—to free Lilith’s soul from Hell.

But this time, I wanted it to remain permanent, with no way for Asmodeus to find her again.

“Your magic didn’t work. There must be another way.”

The Crone only chuckled, tottering off towards a dense thicket of trees. “My magic worked. It always works, you silly demon. And yet you assume there is another way?”

I followed her, scowling at her hunched back. She ignored me, humming to herself as she sniffed, and then let out a harsh cackle and an “Aha!”

Her long fingers, made spidery by the extra joints, plunged into a tree hollow and emerged with the skeleton of a bird, bits of dry nest still clinging to it.

Perhaps flattery would work where threats didn’t. “You are of great age and power. Surely you’re capable of something more, something that can’t be circumvented by Asmodeus.”

The Crone sorted through the bird’s bones, choosing a withered foot and popping it into her thin, sharp-toothed mouth. She crunched delicately, settling on her haunches in the dirt.

“Something more…” She waggled her long fingers, then selected another bit of bone. “Well, I suppose Osseans do love to make a good deal. But what else could you trade for me, Morningstar? You no longer have wings.”

The first time I had bargained with the Crone, she had requested a single feather. The ancient Ossean had no need of gold or jewels; only objects of magical importance were of interest to her.

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