Bind the Soul (2 page)

Of the surviving population, the majority had dispersed to the countryside to form small, safe communities that subsisted on a barter-based economy and lived without the luxuries of decades past. A few larger cities had come out of the war in one piece, and the rich, the smart, and the desperate had quickly migrated to them.

Bristol, the city nearest Piper’s Consulate, was one-third deserted, one-third inhabited by jobless criminals and vagrants, and one-third jealously guarded by average families trying to eke out a living. Piper went to school in one of the better neighborhoods and shopped in its stores. If she hadn’t been born the daughter of two Consuls, life in one of those neighborhoods would have been the sum of her existence. She couldn’t imagine a worse fate than a life without a higher purpose. That’s why she needed to become a Consul like her parents. Consuls, above all, were peacekeepers. They kept the peace between individual daemons, between daemon castes, between daemons from different worlds, and most importantly, between daemons and humans.

Unfortunately, her chances of becoming a Consul weren’t great even though she was qualified in every department except one: magic. Only haemons could be Consuls because it took magic to deal with magic, and daemons had a lot of magic. Her father was a haemon—the offspring of a daemon and a human—as was her mother. This rare combination of having two haemon parents was normally lethal. To save Piper from the two magical bloodlines she’d inherited from her parents, a daemon healer had sealed her magic before it could kill her, leaving her alive but without magic and, in the eyes of daemons and haemons, powerless.

She discarded that unpleasant line of thought and focused on the once-in-a-lifetime ride. Lyre handled the motorcycle as though he’d been riding his whole life. Deep in one of the worst neighborhoods of the city, he finally slowed and chose a secluded corner to park. Once he cut the engine, Piper could feel the deep bass thumping in her bones. Music. Really loud music. They had arrived.

Bathed in a bright spotlight was a massive warehouse with double metal doors in the front. If not for the lights, the building would’ve blended right into the decrepit street. Lyre approached the doors with confidence, while Piper lagged behind, fighting a wave of dread. She didn’t exactly have good memories of the place.

The Styx was a nightclub that celebrated inhibitions of all types. Piper’s last stopover had involved a lot of blood and pain, and somehow she doubted this visit would go any better.

CHAPTER 2

I
NSIDE
the doors was a long, dim hallway guarded by a beefy daemon bouncer. Lyre offered whatever code word passed for “open sesame” and the guy waved them on. Piper grimaced when they reached the mask room. To free guests of all vestiges of self-control, all partakers had to wear identity-concealing masks.

Lyre chose a black and silver mask. Piper picked a purple one with long tassels and a sulky expression that matched her camisole. Together, Lyre and Piper ventured into the club.

Red light emanated from almost every surface, interspersed with flickering blue spotlights. Everything else was black. The effect was just as creepy and mysterious as she remembered. The music hammered at her, the beat frenzied and driving. It was early enough that the place wasn’t packed, but nearly a hundred people were already swaying and grinding on the dance floor.

Scattered among them were a handful of daemons that hadn’t bothered to hide their inhuman nature. Daemons usually disguised themselves with glamour, but the regular rules didn’t apply at the Styx. The exact nature of glamour was a mystery to Piper. She’d been taught that it was a convincing illusion, but then she’d seen a six-foot-tall man drop his glamour to become a ten-foot-tall minotaur. No illusion could make a beast like that fit through doorways.

She followed in Lyre’s wake as he cut a straight line toward the large bar at the back. While he talked up the bartender to wrangle them backstage passes, she watched the nearby dancers. Two girls wearing belts and fishnets and little else had gotten tangled together. A guy with a one-foot-tall Mohawk was trying to help without much success. Piper snorted when one of the girls smacked the guy in the head, knocking his mask half off. He was wearing more eyeliner than Piper.

Lyre caught her eye and gestured for her to follow. With a growing sense of déjà vu, she followed him off the dance floor and into a businesslike hallway. At the end was a comfortable sitting room with posh furniture and dark, vaguely lascivious paintings on the walls. Piper’s steps slowed as she walked in and pushed up her mask. Last time, it had been her, Lyre, and Ash entering this room. Ash had negotiated the deal that had earned them the location of the Gaians, the group that had attacked the Consulate, unintentionally framing Piper for stealing the Sahar.

“Well, well, well.” The voice drifted in from the hallway behind Piper. She turned and her mouth dropped open.

The first time she’d met Lilith, the stunning woman—correction: stunning
succubus
—had been dressed like an innocent college freshman, all soft curves and childlike smiles. Tonight, Lilith looked anything but innocent. Her black leather corset barely covered her ample chest, and her matching miniskirt was so short it was almost nonexistent. The five-inch heels on her thigh-high boots looked like they should require a liability waiver to wear. Her blond hair was pulled back in a tight, sleek ponytail that made her cheekbones stand out in sculpted sharpness. Her makeup was dark, bold, and sultry.

Lilith smiled cattily and tapped one blood-red fingernail against her matching lips as she eyed Piper’s outfit. “I can’t say I expected you back, Minx, my dear. In fact, I recall saying you were no longer welcome.”

“My name is not Minx,” she replied flatly. The ridiculous nickname Lilith had given her when she’d fought in the illegal basement ring was as demeaning as it was stupid. “And I don’t remember you saying that . . . explicitly.”

“Hi, Lilith,” Lyre said neutrally, coming up beside Piper. “How’ve you been?”

“Fair enough,” Lilith said coolly. “Let’s skip the pleasantries. Why are you here?”

Lyre gave a little shrug. “We need your help.”

Lilith threw her head back in a harsh laugh. “Do you know how much money I lost the last time I helped you?”

“We’re here about Ash.”

Lilith’s sneer froze in place. She swept her ponytail off her shoulder and gestured abruptly. “Sit down then.”

The three of them took seats on the sofas, Piper and Lyre across from Lilith. Piper watched the succubus closely, trying to interpret the shadowy thoughts sliding behind the woman’s eyes. The three of them stared silently, judging one another.

“You know he’s missing,” Lyre finally said. “Do you know what’s happened to him?”

Piper swallowed hard. Five weeks ago, after escaping the Gaians and barely surviving a choronzon attack, Ash had disappeared without a word. Two weeks ago, Lyre had discovered that Ash had gone into the Hades territory in the Underworld—just about the last place he should have gone. No one had seen him since.

Lilith shrugged in response to Lyre’s question. “Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because we’re Ash’s friends and we care about him.”

“You, yes.” Lilith turned to Piper. “You . . . not as much.”

“I’m his friend!”

Lilith’s eyebrows rose. “Are you really?” she mocked. “And how long have you known him? I believe you spent a total of . . . five days with him?”

Piper clenched her hands into fists. “That was five
full
days together and we were fighting for our lives for most of it. You get to know a person fast under those circumstances.”

She faltered slightly, remembering the shock of finding out, on the fifth day, that Ash had stolen the Sahar from her on the first day. Maybe she hadn’t known him that well. Maybe, even now, she didn’t truly know him.

Lilith’s eyebrows crept higher as she watched Piper struggle.

Piper cleared her throat. “Five solid days is like . . . like thirty dates. That’s knowing someone pretty well.”

“Thirty
dates
 . . . really.”

“Just an example. I don’t think of it like that.”

“Of course not.”

Piper glared.

Lilith smiled sweetly. “So you wish me to tell you where Ash is so you can dash off to save him, is that it?”

Piper ground her teeth.

“He’s not missing.” Lilith waved a delicate hand. “He is exactly where he’s supposed to be—in Hades.”

“We already know he’s in Hades,” Piper said. “We need to know why he hasn’t come back.”

Lilith made an amused sound. “You realize he lives there, don’t you? It’s his home.”

“He doesn’t want to be there. He wouldn’t stay there willingly.”

“Oh? And you’re basing this on . . . five whole days of heartfelt discourse about his personal life?”

Piper scowled. “Samael abuses him.”

“Ah, you’re referring to
those
rumors.”

“What rumors?”

“About the draconians.” She looked disbelievingly at Piper’s confused expression. “Don’t you know the stories? Most daemons believe that draconians are vicious by nature and the Hades family likes to hire them as mercenaries because they’re good at killing. But certain factions of Underworlders suspect something quite different.”

Piper looked at Lyre. He didn’t appear surprised.

Lilith smoothed a wrinkle out of her skirt, somehow baring more of her thigh in the process. “
They
don’t think the draconians are willing employees of the Hades family. They believe the Hades have been keeping draconian ‘pets’ since the Taroth family fell five hundred years ago.”

Piper frowned. “I thought the Hades killed all the Taroths.”

“If the rumors about draconians are true,” Lilith shrugged, “then the Hades family would certainly perpetuate the belief that the Taroths are long gone. Either way, according to the rumors, the Hades have kept a handful of draconians as expendable henchmen for centuries.”

Piper chewed her lip. Draconians weren’t a common caste; they’d mostly died out after their ruling family had been murdered and their territory taken over. After five hundred years, there weren’t many left.

She looked at Lyre. “Have you heard these rumors?”

He nodded. “Ash hates Samael but he always goes back. The rumors are the only theory that makes sense.”

Lilith gave Lyre a scathing look. “Do you
really
think Samael keeps a cadre of enslaved draconians to do his bidding?”

Lyre coolly stared back. “Do you think he doesn’t?”

She pursed her lips. “Have you ever seen a draconian older than twenty-five, Lyre?”

He shook his head.

“Neither have I. They say Samael kills them once they’re too old and difficult to control. I’ve only encountered a few draconians in my life but they were all like Ash: silent, distant, and colder than steel. None were older than twenty-five.”

“None?” Piper asked. Her stomach churned. The rumors fit with what the harpies had told her: that Samael would hurt Ash if he didn’t obey. “But why? If Samael is using Ash—using all of them—why obey him at all?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Piper shook her head.

Lilith rolled her eyes. “So naive. Torture is a powerful tool. Do you know the depths to which a man will sink to avoid pain? And if the threat is weeks, or even months, of the worst agony imaginable?”

“But if they escaped—”

“Escape Hades?” Lilith looked at Lyre. “Does she know
anything
about the Underworld?”

Lyre sighed at Lilith’s tone, turning to Piper. “Samael has the resources to make sure anyone who escapes him won’t stay free for very long. His influence is strong throughout most of the Underworld.”

Piper looked between them. “So you’re saying it’s impossible for anyone to escape Samael?”

Neither answered.

Horror constricted Piper’s throat. She pressed both hands to her face, remembering Lyre telling her that desperate people did desperate things. She couldn’t imagine a more desperate situation.

Five weeks ago, she’d thought she had her life pretty well figured out. She would somehow force her way to Consulhood by being so amazing at everything but magic that no one would care about what she lacked. Her life would have purpose, a destination, and she would at last let go of the nagging fear that she’d end up dumped into a human life, forgotten by her father and uncle as they went on with their magic-filled, daemon-centered lives.

Then the Gaians attacked the Consulate to steal the Sahar Stone. Piper, Lyre, and Ash had escaped with it. They’d set out to track down the Gaians and rescue her abducted father, but in the end, nothing had gone as planned. Ash had stolen the Sahar from her early in their journey, switching it with a fake, and she’d refused to forgive him when she found out. How could she have been so narrow-minded? He’d been trying to get hold of the only weapon that could possibly save him from Samael. Without the power of the Sahar, he’d had no choice but to return to his living hell.