Page 20 of Drawn to the Demon Duke
Right. Like I had any idea whatthatmeans…
Sammael couldn’t come with me. Haures said that this quest was mine and mine alone, and that meant the mage was to wait outside of the shadows until I returned, needing to hitch a ride back to the palace—with or without the ashbalm flower.
Remember how rejected I felt when he mentioned how easy it would be to snap this growing bond between us, my stubborn side decided Iwouldreturn with it, or die trying.
Of course, I thought that before I took a deep breath—coughing again when it seemed like my insides were scorched—then pumped myself up right before I entered the shadows. On the plus side, it’s a good ten, fifteen degrees cooler in there.
On the downside, I can barely see in front of my face.
A flashlight would come in handy. What makes it worse is that, the farther I go, wandering aimlessly, the more tiny white pinpricks that appear about a foot or two above the ash.
I’m ashamed to admit it took me way longer than it should’ve to recognize that they wereeyes.
Because I’m not alone in here. Nope. And though Sammael warned me not to go too far off the path because that’s where I should find the ashbalm flower, that’s easy for him to say. First of all, I can’t see a path. Second? When it finally does hit me that there are some critters in here, watching my every move? I start to go in any direction where there aren’t that many eyes.
And third?
Shortly after I entered the shadows, my leg warmer got snagged on something sharp. Not thinking clearly, I bent down, grabbing it, shrieking when I lifted it in front of my face.
It was abone.
Yeah, I almost high-tailed it right out of there. Only remembering how I’ve never stayed where I wasn’t wanted had me shuddering, then tossing the bond as far from me as I could, before carrying on.
Without a flashlight, I just bumbled around blindly. It’s a small relief when my eyes adjust to the darkness enough that I can kind of see what’s around me, thanks to the slivers of the red-tinged moon and slightly gold sliver hanging next to it in the pitch-black sky over my head. I say ‘small relief’, though, because once I do see, it’s easy to tell that the white eyes are attached to fuzzy shadow creatures that could be friendly, or could be deciding which part of me would be the juiciest.
I don’t panic. If I wasn’t stinging so badly from Haures’s rejection, I might have, but I’m determined to do this. Follow my nose. That’s what he implied. I would know I was near the ashbalm flower when I could smell it.
All I can smell is that same rotten egg stink—until, suddenly, the scent of garlic and sauce, baked dough, and savory pepperoni fills my nostrils.
Pizza.
I smellpizza.
Now, I’ve only been in Sombra for, like, three days. One thing I can say for sure? Dominos might be all over the US, but I don’t think they’ve managed to branch out into demon realms just yet.
But that’s pizza, and though I did eat enough during my meal with Haures, nothing in this world or any other will ever be able to come between Susanna Benoit and a slice of pepperoni pizza.
I jog in that direction, sniffing every few seconds to make sure I haven’t lost it. Just like with Haures, it’s a compulsion. Like Ineedto find the source of the delicious aroma, and when I do, I’m not sure if I should be pleased at what I stumble upon… or disappointed that it’s not pizza.
Because it isn’t.
It is, however, the most interesting flower I’ve ever seen.
About eight inches tall, including the black stem, its petals are made of flame. They hover the dark pistol, at least a half-inch above the flower itself, wafting gently though there sure as heck isn’t any breeze in here.
The ashbalm flower. It has to be.
Remembering Haures’s final instructions, I know to be careful in plucking it from the ash. The stem itself isn’t just black shadow. Like the ground its sprouted from, it’s also ash, and if I’m too rough with it, it’ll crumble into nothingness.
And if the flames that make up the petal go out? The flower is worthless.
Careful, Su. Crouching low, I dig my fingers into the ash, trying to find the base of the ashbalm flower’s stem. Once I think I’ve found it, I take a deep, steadying breath, then yank with just enough pressure to pull it out of the ground.
The flames waver, but they don’t go out.
Phew.
Slowly, I tell myself. Slowly, I rise, holding the stem gently. Some of the ash falls away. I freeze, but I guess the flower is sturdier than I first imagined because it’s still shining brightly.
