“The flooring was harvested from an Ignus Tree,” Indie said, sounding as out of sorts as I felt.

  “So?”

  “So, they only grow in the infernal layers and some of the deepest layers at that.”

  “They only occur in the infernal layers?” I repeated in thought, my heart dropping with the weight of the realization. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

  “We’re not at the very bottom, but I wouldn’t be shocked if we’re rubbing elbows with Hell right now.”

  “Hell?” I squeaked, barely managing to keep myself from speaking the word aloud. “You mean—”

  “I mean, we’re a hop, skip, and a jump away from Hell.”

  Visions of fiery lakes and horned figures with pitchforks danced behind my eyes. All my life, I’d never really believed that Hell was a real place.

  “Oh, it’s real,” Indie assured me, “but it’s nothing like humans paint it out to be. The biblical Hell and Heaven have different functions and they’re mostly only concerned with one another, not humanity.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means humans are mostly pawns to demons and angels in an infinite game.”

  “But getting back to Hell...”

  “When people die, they go to a place called Sheol, the abode of the dead, not a lake of fire or whatever you think when you think of Hell. Sheol is non-discriminatory. Good, bad, or ugly, everyone goes there.”

  That thought was a little comforting. Very little. I was still preoccupied with the idea that we were somewhere near the literal Hell whether or not we were being sent there to be tortured. The mere fact that it was so close was unnerving.

  “You should really be more concerned with the Reeper demon that found us. And might I remind you he found us due to your stupidity.”

  “I don’t need the reminder, thanks.”

  “My point is—be more concerned with him, not the prospect of eternal suffering. There might not be enough left of us to go to any afterlife when he’s through with us.”

  My hands fell to my stomach, and I dropped my eyes as I lifted my nightshirt so I could examine my belly for any sign of well, anything. But there was nothing. Apparently, Simon wasn’t the intestine-slurping type. He had changed me into new clothes, though. A black tank top and a pair of matching shorts that ended at my thighs. I couldn’t remember wearing anything so short in a long time. Not since Rodney had started in on the cellulite on my thighs. It hadn’t been much, but at that point in our marriage, he’d been looking for any way to hurt me. He’d succeeded. I hadn’t worn anything but jeans that entire summer.

  “Reeper Demons don’t consume flesh, dummy.”

  “Well, what do they eat then?”

  “They latch onto a mind like a leech and suck energy from their victim.”

  “How nice.”

  “They used to be a sort of incubus, but they served the lower layers for too long, interbreeding with the other demons there long enough that they became a separate species. Most of them still prefer to use sex as an interface to suck the life from a person, but any contact will do. The nastiest of them use torture to feed on your pain and fear.”

  “This whole explanation is going from bad to worse.”

  “Hey, you got us into this predicament.”

  God, how had I gotten here? Hours ago, my only worry was the state of my inventory. Now I was worried about being fed on by a literal demon. Great. Just great.

  I swung my legs over the side of the bed, swallowing back fresh nausea, and took a look around. There was a window on one wall that was made of tempered glass and mostly concealed by thick bars. I couldn’t see anything through the opaque glass, except that it was dark outside. Two plush brown chairs were pushed against the far wall, framing a chessboard. The only real spot of color in the room was a vase filled with spider lilies on a shelf above the board.

  When I tried to stand and shuffle over to get a better look, something made a sharp, metallic noise and weighed my legs down. I froze in place, expecting Simon to come barreling through the door at full speed to knock me out again or pin me to the bed and ravish me (which—gross). When no one came, I glanced down, almost feeling like I was in slow motion, and found manacles around both of my ankles. They were attached to a metal plate screwed into the floor near the bed. I gave my ankle an experimental tug. The chains attached to the manacles rattled again.

  “Oh, perfect,” I whispered. “I’m chained to the bed. That’s not ominous or anything.”

  “I’m less concerned with the chains and more interested in the monogrammed section on your shorts. What does it say?”

  Now that she’d mentioned it, I realized there was silvery thread running through the black of the shorts just above my left thigh. I had to climb back onto the bed and bring my knees up to my chest to get a better look at it. I needed reading glasses on my best day, and Simon hadn’t been accommodating enough to grab the pair on my kitchen table before he kidnapped me.

  “It says... Lot Number 1465.”

  I processed that for a moment, stomach churning. Lot numbers usually went with auctions. Did that mean this son of a bitch was planning to sell me like a used car or a piece of antique furniture?

  Strangely enough, Indie eased down, an absurd sense of calm easing over her when I read out the words.

  “Oh, thank the Goddess,” she breathed.

  “Thank her for what?” I screamed back mentally. “We’re going to be auctioned off like a prized heifer!”

  “And that’s still better than what they could be doing with us. If they knew who I... we... really were, things would be infinitely worse.”

  “Um.”

  “Trust me. This is greed on Simon’s part, not malice. There’s a chance we could make it out of this alive. I was fully expecting to be tortured and executed when the Reeper turned us over to his boss.”

  “His boss?”

  “Yeah. Reeper demons are bounty hunters as well as errand boys for the demons of the lowest levels.”

  I absorbed that for a minute, silently fuming. Then, in as calm a tone as I could manage, I thought, “This is over, Indie.”

  “It’s not over. Not by a long shot. We still have to get out.”

  “Not that.”

  “Then what?”

  “The evasion. The secrets, the lies. You put my life in danger the second you took residence inside me. It’s not my fault that happened. Something killed you and I just happened to be nearby to draw your soul by complete happenstance. Whatever you did before we were joined, that’s your fault. That’s what got you killed. And now it could get me killed. So, as far as I can see it, you owe me an explanation. Right now.”

  The only reply was a stretch of uncomfortable silence. I paced a small circle in front of the bed, finally spying a water bottle on the nightstand by the bed and a seam in the wall that, upon further inspection, led to a bathroom. I slipped inside and closed the door, grooming myself until I felt somewhat human again. A clean face and freshly brushed teeth did wonders for my mood. It kept me from wanting to strangle my brain mate.

  “Fine. If you won’t talk, I’ll just have to figure you out for myself.”

  ***

  Angelo

  “So,” I said slowly, sipping the extra coffee I’d gotten for Lydia.

  If she was where the cat claimed she was, this was bad. “You mean to tell me that a Reeper demon just happened across Lydia the night before she was due to move to one of the safest places for our kind—a Hollow?”

  I was straddling one of the Windsor chairs scattered around the place, staring at the oversized cat like this was a run-of-the-mill conversation. In truth, I’d only met a handful of familiars in my life. Witches were good for a night, but that was about it before they were off to their next male conquest. It was about pleasure while tangling with humans and other species tended to be about making babies. I was just fine to keep it purely sex. I didn’t have children, and I didn’t want any, much to my mother’s displeasure. She’d have to count on Fifi for the little hellions. And Fifi seemed well on her way with that sasquatch brute.

  The cat’s bottlebrush tail flicked back and forth in irritation. Okay, technically he’d told me his name, but I found it so absurd that I simply refused to use it. Checkers? Come on. What self-respecting witch named their familiar after one of the simplest human games around? Not to mention the cutesy factor was so high, it was beyond obnoxious. Might as well call him Hopscotch or Tic-tac-toe. I was debating calling him Chex. A breakfast cereal sounded more masculine and had a little more dignity, in my opinion.

  “The sarcasm isn’t necessary, incubus.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “You have to admit it’s a huge coincidence. I think there’s something you’re not telling me.”

  Chex’s claws sheathed and unsheathed, digging holes into the cardboard he was seated on. It was a big tell, as things went. The cat didn’t have much of a poker face. Not that he could have kept the truth from me, even if he was a consummate liar. I was good at reading people and other monsters. And apparently cats. It was one of the things that made me good at my job. Growing up in the sort of environment that Fifi and I had meant you learned to guess motives quickly and sift lies from the truth even faster. I wasn’t sure how exactly Fifi had missed the lessons growing up. She was the most trusting succubus in existence, and it usually caused her nothing but pain.

  “Lydia might have unraveled a spell placed on a book in her shop while she was packing up.”

  “A spell?”

  The cat nodded. “It could have acted like a signal flare that then drew the demon in. And then he found her interesting enough to take.”

  I hummed thoughtfully. That wasn’t the entire story either, and I knew it, but it was a lot more than I’d had even a few minutes before. The point was that Lydia clearly had enough talent to draw in a Reeper who was prowling the area. Power she’d wielded completely unconsciously. That probably meant there was more waiting just under the surface if someone taught her to access it.

  And I’m a good teacher, I thought with a wry smile. The girls love it when I break out the ruler.

  I tipped the cup back and drained the dregs of Lydia’s coffee. “So, you’re telling me that the Reeper took Lydia and the book and left? And you have no idea where he went?”

  “Yes,” Chex said simply.

  I sighed deeply. It wasn’t a matter of not believing him—that ship had sailed when I realized what he was—but all the same, it was a lot to take in. A gypsy, completely unaware of how potent her powers were managed to get kidnapped the eve before she moved to Haven Hollow. Son of a bitch. If that was really the truth (and I was betting it was), I’d lose out on this damned sale. Not to mention, Fifi would have my balls for not looking into this more thoroughly, and for cutting corners by doing a video call instead of meeting Lydia in person. If I’d touched Lydia at any point, I would have had a better idea of what she was. Well, damn. Now it looked like I’d lose out on the sale and I’d lose out on bedding Lydia. Double damn because I’d been looking forward to that.

  “The demon said he was Agatha’s brother.”

  I frowned down at the cat. “Who the hell’s Agatha?”

  “A store owner in Tiller and a friend of Lydia’s,” Chex answered. “I think he was lying.”

  “Of course, he was lying. He needed a ruse to get in through the door. Reeper demons can’t cross thresholds. Incubi and succubae can barely do it. We lose a lot of our potency if we cross into a home uninvited. It’s always better to get an invitation.” I took a breath. “Let me guess, the demon used the broken down car trick?”

  Chex made a soft growling sound, his ears flattening to his skull. It was the most aggressive motion I’d seen him make thus far. “Yes. Lydia was on the phone with Agatha when he…” He swallowed against the absurdity of what he was about to say. “Put her to sleep, somehow. Then he carried her out the front door.”

  “He won’t be anywhere in the area then,” I said with a sigh as I shook my head and thought about how this situation had just gone from bad to worse. “If he hasn’t taken her for food, he’s going to take her back to his home dimension and pawn her off to someone else. Possibly an archfiend. The only humans in that realm are slaves or refreshments.”

  “Then what do we do? We can’t just leave her there.”

  “We don’t do anything. It’s too dangerous.”

  The cat growled at that, no doubt formulating his plan to run to the next bleeding heart monster on the block and tell his tale of woe to them instead. They’d pitch a fuss with the council and my name would be dragged into it, especially because I’d recently been inducted into the council. It seemed at every meeting, it was proposed that I should be dropped since I did my best not to do a damned thing for them. Hmm, maybe this was my chance to ensure my seat on the council. If I helped spring Lydia free, then that would surely mean I’d prove my worth to the council? Besides, if I didn’t choose to help Lydia, Fifi would use my scrotum for a purse. Not to mention that if I actually managed to free Lydia, no doubt she’d hand herself over to me on a silver platter, given the fact that I would have certainly played the part of knight in shining armor. And as to the demonic realm? I hadn’t been back there in a while, but it would be interesting to return. I certainly wasn’t afraid of it because it was my homeland. Hmm, all told this little situation might prove to be quite interesting.

  “Fine. I have connections. I’ll make some calls, but I can’t promise anything.”

  The cat breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’m sure Lydia will pay back your kindness if you’re able to free her.”

  She’d better. She owed me a steak dinner, at the very least, if not a modeling session with some very skimpy lingerie. Asking for sex in exchange for rescue was uncouth, even for me. But I could imply, surely. I nodded to myself, brushing the creases out of my dress shirt and slacks as I stood.

  “I need to get home. I have the numbers in an address book somewhere.”

  “I’ll ride with you,” Chex said at once.

  I gave him a hard look. “You’re not going with me.”

  “Oh, yes, I am. I don’t trust you and I want to make sure you’re going to do what you say you will.”

  “Listen, cat—”

  “My mind is made up. If you lock me in here, I’ll ruin every surface and that will come out of your paycheck as soon as Lydia finds out you left me here.”

  “If I can find Lydia.”

  “Leave me here and you won’t like Lydia’s reaction when you find her.”

  I bared my teeth at him. I could feel they were sharper than they’d been a few minutes before.

  “You’re a son of a bitch, you know that?”

  “Son of a Molly,” he sniffed. “And yes, I know. I call shotgun.”

  Chapter Seven

  Lydia

  There were more clothes stacked up in the bathroom, laid out in three neat little rows.

  I figured that meant I had three days to figure out where I was and how to get back home before I entered a cross between Supernatural and Taken. There was no shower, just a shallow tub, hotel-sized shampoo, and a washcloth. The toilet was ordinary porcelain, standing out from the rest of my prison due to its seeming ordinariness. I could barely reach the door to the room, but I tried the knob, anyway. Locked. I even muttered the spell Indie had been drumming into my head, trying in vain to channel her magic. Nothing.

  It took several moments to notice it properly because I’d never experienced anything like it before. And that was the absence. The air felt dry and hollow around me, and as I reached for magic, I found nothing. That was wrong, somehow. There was always ambient energy in the air, even if I wasn’t a crack shot at accessing it. But there was nothing there. No magic. And that couldn’t have happened by accident.

  “It’s a magical deprivation chamber,” Indie said grimly. “They’re rare and hard to create for the reasons you just thought of. It’s hard to find a place that’s low enough on magic to push it out entirely. Forcing an abundance of magic from a place is even harder. The practitioner would have had to be very powerful.”

  “So, a lot more powerful than you or I combined?”

  “In my current state? Absolutely. I might have stood a chance against the Reeper demon by myself in my original body, but in yours, it wouldn’t even be a fight. He’d squash us like a bug.”

  “Great. You’re full of nothing but good news.”

  “Sorry.”

  The slight creak of the door’s hinges was all the warning I got. Light flooded the room from the outside, momentarily blinding me. I raised a hand, turning to face the source, blinking hard. The light was so dazzling after the darkness, it actually hurt.

  “Ah, so you’re awake.”

  I turned to find Simon leaning against the doorframe, watching me with an amused smile.

  “I wondered how long it would take for the sedative to wear off,” he continued. “Witches usually shrug it off faster than this.”

  He didn’t look so harmless now. At some point, he’d traded his sodden clothes for a tighter ensemble made of leather or something equally unpleasant. One of the peculiarities that I’d inherited from my Traveller blood was the ability to sense people’s emotions and feelings. I’d considered becoming a therapist to help people with their pain, but experience had quickly taught me it was a bad idea. Living with that stuff day in and day out would have made me lose my mind. As far as Simon was concerned, I couldn’t detect anything coming from him—no anger, no enjoyment as he witnessed my own low circumstances. He was just like a big, empty void.

  But while I might not have sensed his emotions, I could smell him. The stench of his aura hit me like an oncoming train and I had to turn away from him to hide the revulsion threatening to bring up last night’s coffee. He’d react badly to that, I was sure, and then I’d be in physical pain. It was pretty clear that this man got off on terror and suffering to a degree that terrified me. The only person I’d met who was at all comparable was Rodney’s lawyer, who took sadistic glee in screwing over as many women as he could during divorces.