Damien’s gaze was still on me as he said, “There is something buried within him. Some type of artifact or relic that has become entwined with his soul. Now, I cannot discern preciselywhatthis artifact is nor how in the names of the Nine it got there, but it very muchfeelsas if it’s connected to The Library somehow.”
The Library.
Memories rushed forward like a waterfall. The mythical halls of The Library, the luminous golden tome I’d stolen from there, my hapless and hopeless run through the Wastelands to escape the Library’s Hunter, all ending with that Hunter’s blade sliding between my ribs.
Violet’s voice was still tinged with anger. “Rowan, do you know what he’s talking about?”
The fire spat mockingly as the silence stretched between us. Eventually, I nodded. “Somewhat. I do not know anything about an artifact, but I am familiar with The Library.”
“Familiar with The Library,” Damien echoed, then laughed. “You say something so outlandish with such casual flippancy, as if you were discussing popping into a gas station.”
Violet said, “I am assuming we’re not discussing a regular library and this is more ‘supernatural beyond the veil’ shit?”
I nodded again, still staring at the demon. “Why do you want access to The Library?” I asked, voice flat.
Damien’s eyes widened, and I caught a glimmer of genuine surprise flicker across his face. Both of his hearts beat in perfect unison for the briefest moment. “Why? It isThe Library. It has been the source, seat, and storage of all that has ever been known or will yet to be known since before the dawn of time.” He spread his hands as if the answerwere obvious, fingers catching the firelight. “Why would Inotwant to go there? Why wouldn’t anyone?”
Fair point to a stupid question.
A thought hit me then. “If you seek The Library, why not use a portal to get there? A door like the one Jules used?” I thought back to the night Violet was drugged—the knowing void peering into me, the feel of being hooked and yanked through that endless emptiness, the swirling iridescent lights taking shape and gaining solidity. “Surely a High Demon as ancient as you claim to be must have a portal door like this one?”
Damien’s expression darkened, just slightly. Both hearts stuttered, then resumed their irregular rhythm. He poured himself more coffee, and the dark liquid caught the green-blue firelight, turning it into something that looked like liquid shadow. “Because to reach The Library through a conventionalportal door, as you call it, one must pass through The Lighthouse.” He took a slow sip. “And The Lighthouse Keeper is rather. . . wroth with me.”
“Wroth,” Violet repeated, skepticism sharp in her voice. “You could just say angry. What did you do?”
Damien’s smile was all teeth, white and sharp in the firelight. “That,gatita, is a story for another time.” He took another sip, savoring it. “What matters right now in the course of our negotiations is that I cannot go by way of The Lighthouse, which means I must find an alternate entrance. And that,” he pointed to my chest, “I do believe will be the key to unlocking that entrance.”
I felt the trap closing—heard it in the way the room’s ambient sounds seemed to contract, in the way even the fire’s crackle became expectant. “So, you want to rip this thing out of my chest, then?”
“No,” he said as he shook his head and set down his coffee cup. “I mean, I certainlycouldtear you to pieces and hope whatever relic has bound itself to your soul doesn’t get destroyed in the process. However,” he said with another ingratiating smile, “that is a rather barbaric solution to a uniquely elegant situation.”
I scoffed. “Well, thank thegodsyou are not a barbarian, demon.”
“Despite how unfortunate the circumstances under which we have met were and regardless of what you may think of me, I am typicallynota violent individual. Indeed, I would much prefer to find a path forward where we canallget what we desire.”
What I desire is that you never killed Jules.I nearly spat that thought out in anger before the demon continued his sales pitch.
“There is the Strega of the First House,” he said, lifting his coffee cup. “She is the owner and landlord of the Den of Nine Sins. She knows the oldest of the old ways, possesses the ancient magics gifted only to mortals, and walks the forgotten paths. Not only can she safely remove that relic from your chest, but she can identify how it can be used to get to The Library.”
Strega of the First House.The title felt familiar, as if I’d read it somewhere long ago. I sat there, combing through my memories to place where I knew the word from.
“Why not go ask her yourself?” Violet asked, voice tight with suspicion.
Damien laughed with genuine amusement. “Ah,mi gatita, if only it were so simple. Her house is. . . hungry for me. I cannot set foot inside that place without paying a price I am unwilling to pay.”
The way he saidhungrymade my skin crawl as if we all knew it was not a metaphor nor an exaggeration. I asked, “You want us to go in your place?”
“Precisely.” He set down his coffee cup with a softclinkagainst the silver tray. “You return to me with that relic currently residing within, you along with the knowledge of how to get to The Library. In return, I shall give you Edward Fitzgerald’s location along with every sordid detail of where he hides, who protects him, and how to end him.”
Violet’s hands trembled. The war in her played out in her heartbeat: desire and fear, vengeance and cost, all fighting for dominance as her pulse pounded. “You said that Rowan owed you a boon because he forced you to kill Jules,” she said. “How does any of this absolve him from that?”
Damien smiled even wider. “Oh, you are such a sharp one,gatita. Don’t worry your pretty little head on your boyfriend’s behalf. We'll draw up a contract, put all of this in writing, and make it official. We can specify the conditions under which he shall be absolved from owingme recompense then. So,” he purred as he leaned forward, “Do we have a deal?”
I looked at Violet and held my breath as I waited for her reply.
Chapter 31
Violet
