Demon Demon Burning Bright, Whisperings book four (28 page)

“We increased Lawrence’s security detail,
but he became unhappy and nervous. Then he came to me again. He
said the Burning Man paid a visit. He made subtle but unmistakable
threats. We called the Council.” She shook her head. “How
could
we have been so naïve?”

“What happened?”

She shook her head again, dropped it on her
bent knees so he had to lean into the bars to hear her words. “The
meeting lasted for hours until we were exhausted. None dared call
Lawrence a liar, but some tried to persuade him he was mistaken. He
remained adamant. We went around in circles and decided to
reconvene the next day.” She lifted her head to meet his eyes. “And
the next day, Orcus summoned us to the Chamber and accused me,
Haddon, Carlylse, Veron, Worscht and Brismal of treason. We were
arrested and brought here.”

“But not Gareth and Imeld. What was their
position?”

“Imeld was uncharacteristically reticent.
Gareth’s input was, basically, we trod on dangerous ground and
should proceed with care.” A slight hitch of her shoulder. “I
cannot believe they are collaborators.”

“Gareth?” Royal snorted lightly, shifted his
weight. “Never. His dedication to the High House is legendary.”

He knew little of Imeld, but he did know
Gareth and had for many a long year. Gareth was his mentor when he
came to the High House. Gareth had somehow avoided arrest. Lawrence
had one ally in the High House.

Weariness seeped into Royal’s bones. Did
what had happened with the Council matter if he could not escape
his prison? He had never bowed to defeatism, yet the bars were
solid and Orcus held the key.

“Lawrence made me proud, Ryel,” Darja went
on. “He showed such spirit. Publicly confronted by the man who
threatened him, he did not quail. He demanded proof of the
Council’s treachery. Orcus said it was not what we had done, but
what we would do. He said our actions would rip Bel-Athaer apart.
His predictions have never been wrong. Lawrence had no choice but
to consent.”

Royal frowned fiercely. “Do our Seers acts
against our best interests?”

“Not only they. Every Seer in Bel-Athaer
grasps at power and has for decades, and our people suffer at their
hands. What Cicero told us is most illuminating. He is one to
gloat. He has ruled the High House from behind the scenes since the
High Lady died. He cannot control Lawrence as he wishes, so plans
to get rid of the boy and rule openly.”

“Cicero and Orcus are cohorts,” Royal said,
stating the obvious. Although Cicero was a Seer in his own right,
he could not match the Burning Man’s power. As Orcus’ trusted
right-hand man, he spoke on his master’s behalf, conveying his
advice to the High House. Orcus appeared when dire circumstances
required his personal attendance. The two had worked together since
Cicero’s inception.

Darja released a small, bitter laugh. “They
are one and the same, Ryel. Two personas of one man.”

Shock leached some of the color from Royal’s
face. Then, as he digested Darja’s revelation, his eyes became
stormy.
We thought the High House ruled Bel-Athaer, when all
along it has been one man
. Rage scoured his throat like
acid.

“How long have you known?” he growled.

“When he brought us here.” Her hand curled
around a bar. “Seers have ever been mysterious, feared creatures.
As Cicero he is a friendly, sympathetic figure, and if those he
questions do not respond, the Burning Man steps in. Orcus wields
awe and terror as a weapon.”

Royal’s hands clasped his upraised knees,
fingers digging in flesh, feeling bones beneath. Fury etched his
face into a semblance of his features, a taut mask humans would
call demonic. “He is not the first Burning Man. My father spoke of
one, and my grandfather. Has it always been this way, one man
posing as two? Why does no person know of this . . . perfidy?”

“We never suspected.” Darja made a sound of
disgust. “Cicero said only High Lords and Ladies are privy to the
secret, but Lawrence is the first in over fifty years with no one
alive to tell him. To him, Cicero is a benign advisor, the Burning
Man a creature he should rightly fear.”

Royal made to speak, but a sound caught his
attention. Voices? He stiffened. Yes, voices, faint but
unmistakable. And one of them. . . .

He shot to his feet and launched his body at
the bars. He roared, “Tiff!”

“Ryel, what is it?”

He spun and walked back to the wall. “Tiff
is here. I heard her.”

He pushed from the wall, propelled himself
across the small space and rammed his shoulder into the bars. The
limb went numb at first but pain soon seared through it.

“These tunnels extend for miles, they are a
labyrinth. Sound is distorted. You are mistaken.”

“No.” Royal readied himself. “Tiff is why I
came, Darja. The Burning Man wants her, she is his niece, a
full-blood Seer.”

He ran into the bars again. And again.

“Stop! Ryel, you will injure yourself!”

Darja stood at the bars which separated
them, hair falling in a tumble to partly obscure her face. Royal’s
gaze went to the small topknot still secured on her head. He showed
his teeth but it was not a smile. “Darja, you have something I
need.”

CHAPTER
NINETEEN

I would spontaneously combust if I didn’t
cool down. I needed all my wits about me. I stopped outside
Cicero’s door and pulled myself together.

I tapped on the door. “Uncle, are you
there?”
Uncle, dear, come out so I can knock you to next
Sunday.
I needed him in the passage where I had room to move
with nothing to get in the way.

Heavy snores rumbled inside the room, so I
rapped harder. “Uncle! I need to speak to you!”

The snoring changed to grunts and
unintelligible words.

“Uncle!”

“Hecate? Is that you, child?”

“Can you come out here? I need an urgent
word.”

Shuffling, then the door opened.
Bleary-eyed, Cicero wore black silk pajama bottoms; long
silver-white hair in two braids hung down his naked chest.

Not giving him time to marshal his thoughts,
I said urgently, “Can you come with me?”

Brow creased, he joined me in the passage.
“What is wrong, my angel?”

I took my arm from behind my back and aimed
the Ruger. “Where’s Royal? What did you do with him?”

“Ryel? But as I - ”

I moved in and clipped him alongside the
head with the barrel.

He staggered back to the wall, hand going to
his head. His expression was a picture.

I imagine my expression was quite something,
and my voice was a low growl. “Don’t lie to me! I didn’t even break
the skin and it’s nothing to what I’ll do if you keep it up.”

His eyes went cold. “You are ill, Hecate.
Return to your room and we’ll talk further in the morning.”

“The name is Tiff, and you’ll answer me or
be in a whole heap of pain.” My eyes were cold as his. “I know
Royal was here.”

His hand dipped in his hip pocket and came
out with a small metal box.

I skittered back. He took one pace
forward.

“Don’t do it,” I warned.

He smiled unpleasantly. “I am disappointed,
Hecate
. I had such high hopes for you.”

Call me mad, cruel, bitter, but don’t call
me unfeeling. I had feelings, loathing for this man and what he’d
done. Anger, but not the hot ire of moments ago; this was cold,
calculating. He’d tell me what I needed to know. I’d make him.

“I see,” I said, and shot him in the
kneecap.

The
crack
seemed to rattle the
mountain, but it was my shaken equilibrium protesting the noise.
Blood and gristle exploded from his leg. Darn. Now I had blood on
my jeans as well as in the soles of my boots.

Cicero screamed and collapsed. The stun gun
hit the floor; I kicked it away.

He sat against the wall. I stood over him as
he stared at his bloody, shattered knee and whimpered.

“Tell me where Royal is or I’ll give you a
matching set.”

He lifted a terrified, tear-dappled face,
opened and closed his mouth. He couldn’t speak. I intuited this was
the first time someone hurt him, the first serious pain he ever
felt.

I didn’t recognize my voice, so cold and
heavy I wonder the words didn’t freeze and drop like slugs of lead
as they came out my mouth. “Shock takes the edge off, but you’ll
know what pain feels like in a minute or two.” I shifted my aim.
“Tell me, or I swear I will shoot.”

“I did not summon Ryel, I don’t know why he
came. Nonetheless, his arrival here was opportune,” he gasped
urgently, words tripping over one another. “With him in my hands, I
devised a plan to lure you here. I took his phone, planted it and
sent the text.”

“Yeah, I already figured most of that out.
Then what?”

His eyes glinted cruelly. “I had him taken
away, to a place you will never find. He’s lost to you, niece. You
will never see him again.”

I had my gun at shoulder height, pointed at
the ceiling. Now I brought my hand down and shot his foot. Blood
sprayed one leg of my blue jeans. I didn’t flinch.

“He’s here!” he shrieked as he squeezed his
thighs together, as if that would stop a bullet. He jerked his
head. “Down there, there are cells. The keys are on the table
beside my bed.”

“Did you hurt him? And before you answer,
know every lie will be another bullet in your hide.”

“He is unharmed, I swear.”

I believed him. He didn’t possess the inner
resolve to lie while in that much pain. My legs felt weak as relief
almost downed me. Royal was somewhere in the depths of the
mountain.

I wanted to tear off immediately, but had to
secure Cicero. He was going to the High House with me. And I had a
question for him, one I needed to ask while we were alone.

He sobbed quietly now. For a moment the
sound and his agonized expression tugged at my heart. I reminded
myself this man did worse to his victims than shoot them in the
foot.

I hunkered down. “All you Seers, do you
operate in the same way, kill people to get their secrets and
pretend you’re prophesying?”

His voice was rusty with pain. “Yes, every
one of us.”

“Even. . . ?” The words stuck in my throat.
I had to clear it and try again. “Even my parents?”

He nodded.

I felt ill all over again. My parents were
killers, like Cicero and every Seer in this goddamned world.

I would not contemplate it now. I stood,
wondering what I could use to tie up Cicero.

“What are you going to do with me?” he
croaked.

“You’re going to the High House with me,
Plowman and Gryphon.”

He blanched. “You have Gryphon?”

“Yeah. You see, I already looked around your
little paradise and found a few things people will want to know
about.” I stepped around him, but not near enough he could grab me.
The keys first, then something to tie him.

“Niece,” he whispered.

I met his eyes and didn’t care for what I
saw in them; they were alight, and a pained smile tightened his
mouth.

“Before you take me to the High House I
would have you know something more of our history.”

“Go on,” I said warily.

“When I told you of Bel-Athaer, the Mothers
and our ancestry, I knew you made assumptions and reached erroneous
conclusions. I chose not to enlighten you for the time being. Your
feelings for Gelpha and Mothers made me wonder if my disclosure, on
top of everything else, would traumatize you. I felt sure, if I
could keep you here, we would bond to the extent you would be more
receptive. You were not ready for the truth then, but you shall
know now.”

My mouth went dry. I got that
I really
don’t want to hear this
feeling again. He seemed too pleased
with himself, satisfaction clearing the haze of pain from his
eyes.

He spoke deliberately; he didn’t want me to
miss one word. “Listen carefully. I told you the Mothers found and
bred us. I let you believe they took us from Earth, fresh meat for
their experiments. Not so - our forefathers were already here. The
Mothers became aware of an anomaly in their breeding plan,
failures, a new hybrid strain more human than their Gelpha
children. They did not glitter, their teeth were square. They had
not the speed and strength of Gelpha, the ability to confuse the
minds of others. Without fail they were tall, pale skinned,
white-haired and blue-eyed. We were gathered together and held,
segregated from our brethren while the Mothers studied us. They
discovered these children had a unique ability. Some of them could
see the dead.”

In a heavy silence, a sound escaped my lips,
a low note of denial. I felt as if I’d been kicked in the gut.

He nodded, self-satisfied, drinking in the
moment, enjoying my response.

My mouth came open; I couldn’t seem to bring
my lips together.

Gia’s laughter belled in my head as I told
her,
I don’t want your blood in my veins.

You understand so little, Miss
Banks
.

Dagka Shan snaked toward me, head jogging
side to side.
I have never seen your kind before
.

We were demons?
I
was a demon? And
not any old demon, a deficient one, a failed experiment. Even the
mighty Mothers couldn’t get me right.

I can find you, wherever you are
,
Royal once told me. I thought he meant we had a bond which drew him
to me, but he sensed me as he did other Gelpha, because I was one
of them.

“We are not human, Hecate. Any morsel of
humankind we retained bled from our veins long ago,” Cicero
continued, voice heavy with malice. “We are Gelpha,
dear
niece.”

His spite cleared my head. I glared at him
ferociously. I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how
I felt. I didn’t know how I felt. My mind was not capable of
dissecting his announcement.