He shut down fast, like she’d expected. She could tell he was about to change the subject, so before he could, she quickly said, “Are they all from visions?”
“Mostly, yes. And sometimes, my souls project things at me while I’m sleeping. Seeing as they were mostly the scum of the earth while they were alive, their thoughts are unpleasant, to say the least.”
“So why keep them around? Why not send them to the Nine Rings where they belong?”
“Power, Suyin.” The way he said it, he might as well have added “duh” at the end. “It’s always about power.”
She nodded, saying nothing, because she couldn’t argue with that. If she’d lived in Hell, she would have been obsessed with power too. It was likely the only way to stay safe.
They fell silent for a time, and she allowed herself to relax in his grip, though she must have looked absurd. Her hair was a mess, she was wearing the largest shirt ever made, and Murmur was holding her against his side with one arm like she weighed nothing. She probably looked like a manic doll.
And then Murmur said, “The sigil is ready.”
She stiffened and glanced at it. The last she’d seen, he’d erased an entire section. But when she looked now, she saw that he had indeed finished repainting the lines. Everything looked fresh and new. She must have been asleep for several hours for him to get that much done.
She looked at him with a frown. This was a good thing. If the spell was successful, she could finally go home, get back to her life, and assure everyone she hadn’t been murdered. The coven needed her. There was still so much she wanted to explore in this library, but nothing mattered more than getting back to Earth.
And yet, a moment later, she heard herself say, “You owe me an explanation. You can’t do the spell until you’ve fulfilled your end of the deal.”
You better not be stalling, Su. There’s no way you’re that stupid.
Murmur carried Suyin to the couch and sank into the worn cushions, positioning her on his lap so she straddled him. “In answer to your question,” he said, diving right in, “allow me to first clarify that it’s not that I don’t like touch, but rather that I don’t like to be restrained.” The sooner he got this conversation over with, the better.
“I kinda figured that,” Suyin said. “Does it bother you for me to sit like this then?”
“A little,” he answered honestly, “but I can control it.”
Her brow furrowed. “I can move.”
“Stay.”
“But—”
“I’m aware it’s not a rational response, and I can control it to an extent. And I want you here. So stay.”
“Okay.” Her soft smile did something to his insides. “So are you gonna tell me why?”
“It’s boring.”
“I somehow doubt that.”
He lifted a hand and studied his claws. “Long ago, Paimon, the former ruler of this lair, captured and imprisoned me for a decade or so. I was restrained and tortured until part of my mind fractured, and I’ve been that way ever since. Eventually, I escaped and swore I would one day exact revenge. And I did.” He dropped his hand. “And now, here we are.”
Suyin shook her head. “Yeah, no, that wasn’t boring.”
“It’s boring because it’s average. Find me a demon that has never been captured and tortured in his immortal life, and then I’ll be impressed.”
She snorted. “Fair enough. But it’s still pretty fucked up.”
“It was a very long time ago.”
“But you’re still affected by it.”
“As I said before, after I escaped, I allowed the memories to control me for long enough that they became part of my personality. Mortal or immortal, we are all the sum total of our experiences—on Earth or in Hell.”
She pursed her lips like she suspected he was making light of things. But what could he say? That he was ashamed that even now, a thousand years later, he still shuddered every time his bedsheets became tangled in his legs or his clothing was too restrictive? That he’d stabbed people just for daring to touch him?
It was a weakness, and he supposed it was only logical to want to hide it, even now when she’d forced him to expose himself.
