Dark Light of Day (42 page)

I didn’t think it was possible for Ari to squeeze me tighter. “I will be annihilated before I ever let anything happen to you,” he said fiercely.

He scooped me up into his arms and carried me into the bedroom. It was an immense space with high ceilings and huge windows. He laid me on the massive bed as if I were as fragile as a butterfly. In seconds he shucked his suit. He sat down gingerly beside me. It was as if he couldn’t believe I was real, or that I was
his
. He acted as if one sudden move might pop me like a bubble and make me disappear.

But I was his.

And he was mine.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.

“Dressed like that? I hope not.”

“There’s still one thing that’s between us.”

Ari narrowed his eyes. “What’s that?”

“These,” I said, raising one leg. I pointed my toe and wriggled my slipper-clad foot, grinning at him.

S
ometime during the night I had promised Ari I would go to Bradbury with him. At the time, sequestered away in the opulent comfort of the Stirling’s penthouse suite, cradled in Ari’s strong arms, and magically surrounded by his rock-solid and intensely warm and soothing signature, it had seemed that nothing further would ever hurt or harm me. But as day broke and the sun streamed across our rumpled satin sheets, a small fissure of doubt began to creep back into my mind. What, in all of Luck’s scorched Hell, would Ari’s family think of me? But I kept my fears to myself, figuring Ari had had enough of my self-doubt for a while.

Sunday morning, we parted ways in the back of a cab at the edge of Timothy’s Square. Ari claimed my mouth in a last bruising kiss, sneaking his hand beneath the coat he’d lent me. His hand slipped across my demon mark with the lightest feather touch, but it was enough to show that his effect on me was as strong as ever. I squeaked in protest and the sound was swallowed by Ari’s full, soft mouth on mine. The driver cleared his throat impatiently and Ari reluctantly
broke off the kiss. We each set off for our respective dorm rooms to pack.

The campus had an abandoned feel. Almost everyone had left for the break. I returned to Megiddo to find two letters. The first was really a note, from Ivy, indicating she and Fitz had left. They were staying at the Seknecai estate over the break. Personally, I couldn’t imagine spending Beltane with Waldron Seknecus, but I supposed they were used to it.

The second letter was from Night, telling me that he’d talked to Karanos at the ball. He’d shared Linnaea’s renewed concerns about the Mederies and their safety while traveling, as well as my suspicions regarding Vigilia. Karanos had given Night the name of the Maegester who’d been working the case and they were all going to meet. He was taking Peter with him so I wasn’t to worry. I smiled at that last part, but then bit my lip, concerned about Night’s increased involvement in the investigation. He might have stood up to a bunch of Host thugs in the hallway of Empyr last night, but putting a lancet (or whatever my brother’s blade had been) to a demon’s neck would only result in him getting his arm gnawed off. But there was nothing I could do to stop them so I tucked that letter, along with Ivy’s, into my desk drawer.

I
changed into a pink silk cami and lace mini bloomers and contemplated my closet, dithering. What did one wear when meeting one’s boyfriend’s parents for the first time? I had no idea, not ever having had a boyfriend before. I couldn’t imagine meeting the parents of anyone I’d ever been romantically involved with. Ari had mentioned a Beltane bonfire too. I hope he didn’t expect me to participate in any way. I was just getting used to the idea of
attending
these sorts of celebrations. I rubbed my arms nervously, trying to decide whether I could fit my boots in my backpack, or whether I’d have to carry them separately, when I felt a signature that was hot and blistery but the opposite of Ari’s in every other way.

Nergal.

I’d almost, but not quite, forgotten about him. Really, what I had decided to do was not think about him, at least over the break. I still hadn’t found a solution to his problem. He still hated Lamia as much, if not more, than when I’d first been assigned to represent him. And Lamia still refused to release Nergal from his marital vows, which were as strict as any demon obsessed with rules could make them.

I shall take you as mate, for here and ever after, to live and die by your side. Your debts are my debts, your sins are my sins, your life is my life…

Demons were nothing if not serious about promises.

My skin itched as if infected with a rash. Apparently Nergal was shifting into human form with an emphasis on the pestilence part of his personality instead of the drought and midsummer death part. He appeared before me in full fiery glory. On previous occasions such as this, I had always shielded my eyes with my arm and requested that he turn down his wattage. Today I wasted no time with such niceties. I threw up a magic shield that could have stopped a ten-ton radiation blast. His magic hit mine with enough force to knock my teeth together. Suddenly, my temples throbbed and my vision doubled. Nergal’s magic bounced off my shield and reverberated back to him. But instead of reabsorbing it, he easily turned it away, uncaring of where else it might land. My armoire burst into flames.

“No!” I cried, watching my collection of high-necked tunics, sweater shawls, and wool wraps go up in smoke.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, leaving me to leech oxygen and put out the fire. By the time I was finished, an entire quarter of our room had been destroyed. I stood in front of Nergal, sweating, sooty, and panting.

“Small wonder,” I said, irritated, and gestured back toward my ruined wardrobe. I walked over to Ivy’s closet and pulled an old sweater out, glaring furiously at Nergal the whole time. Though I itched sorely to do it, I refrained from throwing any more magic.

“What do you want?”

“I want to discuss my options. You may be looking forward
to a leisurely Beltane break lounging on a blanket in front of a bonfire, but I’m looking forward to another week with a curse worse than death. What do you think I want?” he snarled, advancing on me. “I want out.” I pulled Ivy’s sweater tighter around my shoulders, but refused to shrink back. Nergal loomed over me, his voice as harsh as his crusty, weathered features.

“I want you to act like my counsel and advise me.” His words were clipped, his temper barely restrained. Nergal had been threatening me for months, had caused me countless sleepless nights, but I hadn’t realized until now that he’d been merely impatient. Now he was angry. And I wasn’t at all sure I could control him.

“I have, Nergal,” I said quickly, hating the fact that I sounded desperate. “There are no options absent Lamia’s consent.”

“She will never consent.”

I nodded, miserably chewing the inside of my lip.

“I want you to see what she has become.”

“I’ve met her, Nergal. I know what she’s like.”

“Do you?” he said scornfully. “You have no idea.”

He grabbed my arm and I glanced down, wishing I hadn’t. My entire arm appeared shredded and riddled with maggots. I knew it wasn’t real, but the pain and shock of seeing it made my pulse rate skyrocket. Bits of grisly, pulpy bicep tissue hung from my exposed humerus bone, all of it teeming with small, ricelike insects. I stifled a shriek, barely remembering that demons were like dogs. Showing fear only invited further attack.

I tried to jerk my arm away, but Nergal only squeezed tighter. “Come with me,” he said, and we were instantly
gone
.

I knew demons could shift in and out of physical form but I hadn’t known that they could carry someone with them when they left the corporeal world. I felt like a rag doll flushed down the toilet. My body twisted and turned and whirled around so violently that I wretched upon reentry. I knelt on a familiar looking wooden floor, clutching my stomach and heaving. The contents of my stomach were replaced
with a small, cold knot of fear. My belly burned as I wiped my mouth and stood up.

Nergal had brought me to the Manipulation classroom. Lamia was there too.

In the last three months, she had grown infinitely more vile. She sat in the corner as she had the night of Bryde’s Day when we’d first met, cackling at me. The sound sent shivers up my spine. Her signature felt raw and poisonous, like meat left to thaw on the counter for too long. But it was worse than that. Behind the overall nauseous feeling she gave off were pinpricks of pain, as if someone had slipped razor blades in the meat.

I tried to collect myself, but everything about me was in tatters: my dignity, my magic, even Ivy’s sweater had somehow been torn by Nergal’s forcing me to come here this way. Lamia’s magic hit me then, squeezing me as she had before. My breathing became labored and I fought not to panic. Ari wasn’t here this time to control her. Would Nergal allow her to squeeze the life out of me? How angry was he that I had failed him?

I glanced over at him. He looked back at me contemptuously. I could almost feel his disdain for me, his revulsion to my current unkempt state. My hair was tangled, my lips were dry, and I knew my skin likely looked green and sallow. Worse, Nergal now looked at me as if I was of no further use to him. I hadn’t helped him the way a Maegester should, and I was too weak to control either him or his vile, repulsive wife, who he was still saddled with thanks to me. And then I realized that’s why he’d brought me here. To give me a taste of the medicine my failure forced him to drink.

Only when I lay on the floor, gasping like a fish, thinking I was seconds away from dying of asphyxiation, did Nergal finally walk over to Lamia and whisper in her ear. His manner looked affectionate. He even chuckled softly as Lamia gave him a lopsided smile, showing all two rows of her pointed shark teeth. Her magic withdrew. But when Nergal turned back toward me, his face was a mask of hatred. For
her or me, I couldn’t tell. I raised myself up on two arms, panting. I didn’t have the strength to stand. In the corner, Lamia turned her attention to something she was cradling in her lap. A fetid, rotten corn doll. She started rocking it back and forth, singing softly.

“Let’s discuss my options,” Nergal said calmly. He dragged a chair over to me, turned it around and straddled it so that his beefy, sun-darkened arms rested on the top of the seat back. He didn’t bother to help me up. “How can I get out of my marital contract, Noon?” He looked at me with pity, the way one might look at a mangled insect before stepping on it to put it out of its misery.

I struggled to my feet and leaned against Rochester’s desk, gripping its edge for support. For a moment, I craved Rochester’s massive presence.
He
would not have been brought so low by these squabbling demons. But then I realized if he were here, he’d likely let this situation play out. If I couldn’t control my client, I was of no use to the Council and I would be an embarrassment to the St. Luck’s faculty.

We’d been over this, but I had nothing to fall back on but my training. “Duress,” I said, glad to hear my voice sounded stronger than I felt, “forcing someone to do something against their will, can be one way of getting out of a contract.”

Nergal waved a hand in the air, dismissing the idea. “No one was forced to do anything, then or now.” I bit back a nasty retort and decided my best bet would be to play the professional.

“Fraud,” I said. “If Lamia claimed to be something she wasn’t and you married her relying on her lie then maybe we could argue that your marriage vows are void because of this misrepresentation.”

Nergal looked contemplative, even though it wasn’t a new idea. “The fact that she changed after your marriage doesn’t count,” I said. In the corner, Lamia sang a macabre lullaby. She was lost in her madness, completely unaware or uncaring of what was going on around her.

“Then what?” Nergal asked. He stood up and walked over
to me, intentionally ratcheting up his signature. Waiting for him was like waiting for a swarm of bees to settle on me. My instinct to run was so strong, I twitched.

“Rescission,” I said, now almost frantic. A thin film of sweat broke out all over my body. “Were either of you married to another when you made your vows?”

Nergal shook his head, looking disappointed. “I grow weary of waiting for you to find an answer for me.” He reached for me. I backed away, but not fast enough. He pressed his finger into the muscle of my shoulder. When he let go, it felt as if he’d just pressed a revolver against my arm and pulled the trigger. Instantly, a shooting pain burst forth from the area, pain worse than any sting Serafina had given me by a thousandfold. I shrieked in agony. Tears welled in my eyes and dripped out, wetting my cheeks. I had no shame, no further reserve of professional detachment left. Nergal had finally stripped all of that away, leaving only icy fear and an increasing physical numbness.

Nergal had infected me, as surely as if he’d filled a syringe with deadly plague and plunged it deep into my arm. I could feel death creeping under my skin and into my veins, sinking slowly into my muscles, curling around my innards, twisting through my bowels. I was powerless to prevent it. It was far too late for magical shields, defensive countermeasures, or useless attempts at controlling or manipulating him. I had failed, utterly and horribly. And, as I’d always thought, I would die for my failure.