Page 104 of Samhain Savior
“Why can’t you just open a shadow gate?” I asked, wincing as the heavy marble slab began to slide, the sound of stone on stone, harsh in the quiet.
“Tombs are sacred places,” Archer answered, sounding annoyed. “Most of them are blessed by clergy when they are sealed. It prevents me from accessing them with my magic, meaning we have to do things the old fashion way.”
“By breaking and entering?” I teased, remembering when he had accused me of doing the exact same thing in New York.
Archer smiled, one side of his mouth ticking up in a way that sent flutters through my stomach like a giddy girl with a crush.
“Indeed.”
“So, who was this guy, anyway?” I asked, feeling useless as I watched Corson and Mex attempt to shift the giant slab or marble. “And why does he get the nicest place in the cemetery?”
“Jean-François Baptiste was a lazy, selfish dandy who used his daddy’s money to cement himself as one of the wealthiest men in Louisiana,” Mex said, her words grunted out between her clenched teeth. “He started farming sugar cane when he lost a hand of poker. He had inherited a largeplot of land when he came of age, and he wanted grow tobacco, because that’s what all the rich men back in Virgina were farming. But his father—an idiot who never asked his son to work a day in his life—wanted to branch out, try something no one else had attempted. Jean-François threw an epic tantrum, and his father eventually told him they’d wager on it. One hand of poker, and the winner got to pick the crop.”
“Turned out,” Vine added, his knife once again spinning lazily through his nimble fingers. “He should have thanked his daddy. Sugar crops were a literal gold mine. Bastard made more money than most men ever dreamed of.”
“And he used it to feed every fucking vice known to man,” Mex added, her and Corson giving one final shove against the marble.
Finally, the door opened, the inside of the tomb appearing to be nothing more than a gaping black maw. At my chest, Pandora shifted restlessly, clearly uncomfortable with whatever she sensed waited inside, but I only offered a soothing stroke through her pouch before steeling myself for the inevitable.
Entering yet another tomb.
Blowing out a breath, I went to step forward, but Archer’s arm around my waist stopped me up short.
“Wait,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll go first.”
“Who says chivalry’s dead,” Vine said airily, and I laughed.
“By all means,” I said dramatically, waving Archer forward. “Please enter the scary building full of dead bodies ahead of me.”
“Watch it, witch,” he growled, and heat simmered low in my belly. “Sarcasm will get you punished.”
“Kinky,” Vine teased, and this time, I smacked him on the arm as my face reddened.
“If you’re all quite finished, I believe you have a Sugar Baron to talk to.” Mex stood, arms crossed, glaring at us with mild impatience. Archer pushed past her, ignoring her dirty look, and I waited as Corson and Vine entered after him, doing whatever big bad demons did when they secured a location, I guessed.
Above me, Mal perched on one of the arches, his beady black eyes scanning the cemetery, watching for trouble.
“So,” Mex began, sounding like she’d rather be anywhere else. “You and the shadow demon, hey?”
I shrugged, unsure exactly what to say. “I guess.”
Mex hummed, looking at me thoughtfully, and I did my best not to squirm under her sharp regard.
“He’d given up on finding his mate, you know?” she finally went on, and I pressed my lips together, trying notto show how eager I was for information on the taciturn demon who’d anchored himself to me in so may ways. “We all have, really. After the Fall—” she began, then paused, clearing her throat before starting again. “When we first got stuck here, things were so chaotic. So many were lost. The battle seemed like it would never end. In the aftermath, everyone had chosen a side, and there was so much work to do that we all just sort of…forgot what else there was to live for.” Letting out a sigh that contained a suspicious amount of longing, Mex went on. “Now that he’s found you, don’t expect him to let you go easily. Mates, they’re for eternity, which is something humans consistently fail to grasp.” Turning her head, Mex glanced across the cemetery, her eyes unfocused as she thought, and I wondered what—or who—she was picturing. “And eternity is a long fucking time.”
I considered her words; the concept of a mate was something I was only vaguely familiar with. Not all supernatural beings ascribed to the theory that the universe made someone who was destined to be your perfect partner. Shifters based their entire social hierarchy on them, while vampires tended to treat the concept casually, because monogamy wasn’t really their thing.
Witches didn’t believe in them at all, and after listening to Mex talk, I wondered if it was simply because witchesdidn’t live as long as the others, so they never got a chance to meet their mate.
The thought brought me up short. As a witch, I would lead a much shorter life than Archer. He’d already been around since the beginning of…well, everything. What could a future for the two of us look like if I continued to age like a human when he stayed the same?
The very idea was unnerving.
“All I’m saying is,” Mex continued, her gaze on me as her words cut into my thoughts. “Try to understand where he’s coming from before you judge him, alright?” Turning to look at the low-hanging clouds, she added softly, “Some of us are still waiting.”
I nodded, although, I was not sure I understood much at all. Behind my ribcage, my bond with Archer thrummed, pulsing steadily, letting me know he was there, he was aware of me.
It was far more comforting than it had any right to be.
