Wicked Whispers (19 page)

And leave him here to battle the other demon alone? Ivy might not have the physical or magical strength to help Murmur, but she had a scream that could shatter eardrums. She opened her mouth and let loose. “Help!”

Several things happened at once. Ganymede emerged from the kitchen with the chef right behind him brandishing a spatula. When the cat saw what was happening, he stopped, and the chef tripped over him… and plowed into her. Everyone went down in a tangle of arms, legs, and paws.

That was the moment that Murmur caught up. “Get up. Klepoth will have his head together in a moment.”

“Actually, it’s together right now. And every aching inch of it is pissed.” Klepoth stalked toward them. “Look at the mess you’ve created, Murmur. Oh, what the hell, I’ll take all of you.”

That was her last thought before the hallway disappeared.

10

Murmur drew in a deep breath. Ah, the sweet smell of home—dirt, dust, and despair. He’d forgotten the joy of gazing across the vast… nothingness. Gray, rocky ground as far as the eye could see under a solid gray sky. He couldn’t even spot where the horizon line was because sky and earth were the same color. Wow, how had he stayed away from this for so many centuries?

Damn, it was still as cold as Lucifer’s ass here. He controlled his urge to shiver.
Never show weakness.
A lesson his master had physically hammered into him shortly after his creation.

He turned off Asima’s music and whipped up something of his own, a sizzling song that crackled and popped in his mind, heating the air around him. He shared it with Ivy. She glanced up at him, surprised. He’d never told her that he could manipulate the environment with his music. Now she knew.

“Where are we?” Ivy moved close to him, her warmth reminding him of why he wanted to remain on the mortal plane.

“The Underworld. Klepoth’s illusions are nothing if not accurate.” Murmur glanced to where the other demon had found a boulder to sit on. Bastard.

Ganymede leaped up beside Klepoth.
“Crap. You mean this is hell? Where’s the fire and brimstone? Where’re the red guys with horns, tails, and pitchforks? Where’s the big cheese?”

“This is it, cat. I’d rather spend eternity in your version.” Murmur didn’t even turn to look at Ganymede. He stared into the distance—hating,
remembering
. “You might do lots of hurting in your hell, but you’d never be alone. This”—he swept his arm to encompass the vastness of it all—“is true torture. Aloneness—cold and complete—forever.”

Chef George stared at Murmur, his mouth open and his eyes wide and staring. He’d dropped his spatula. He didn’t seem about to say anything anytime soon.

“See, now this is a big-ass disappointment.”
Ganymede looked at Klepoth.
“Yo, explain this shit to me.”

Klepoth shrugged. “I’m the demon of illusions. The Master wants me to convince Murmur to spend some quality time in the loving arms of his demon family so he can rediscover his roots. Hey, just doing my job.”

“Well, this sucks.”
Ganymede narrowed his eyes.
“Since you don’t need anyone but Murmur, why don’t you whip up an illusion of a sleazy dive with booze and lots of dancing girls? The rest of us will have a few drinks and wait this out. When you’re done, you can pop us out of your illusion.”

“And if I don’t?” Klepoth returned Ganymede’s stare.

“Then I’d be bored just standing around. And when I’m bored, I cause trouble.”
Malice filled his feline eyes.
“You seem like a powerful guy, so I assume I’d have to break a sweat to escape your illusion. Hey, I’m lazy. I don’t do hard. I’d just hang on the sidelines talking really loud and getting in the way while you tried to deliver your message to Murmur.”

Murmur felt anger thrumming through Klepoth, but he knew the other demon would have enough sense not to challenge the cat.

Klepoth nodded. Suddenly, a building popped up behind where he was seated. The sign above the door read Fat Butt’s Bar.

“I figure that’s not a slam at me, because if I thought it was, I’d have to tear out your throat.”
Ganymede hopped off the boulder and padded over to the still-speechless chef.
“Let’s get out of this freaking cold for a while, George.”
The chef obediently followed him through the door.

“Why didn’t you just free them?” Ivy still pressed against Murmur.

Klepoth shrugged. “Once I’ve created an illusion, I can only maintain it if all the characters remain the same. I can change things within the illusion, but no one can leave once they’re in.”

Murmur pulled away and gave her a gentle shove. “Go with Ganymede and George. I’ll come for you when we’re finished.”

“No. And don’t try to talk me out of it. I’m not leaving you alone to face this. Whatever
this
is. So the faster we get it done, the sooner we can leave.”

“Ivy, you can’t—”

“I can.”

Klepoth interrupted. “Let her witness what happens when a demon deserts his calling.”

Well, hell. Murmur speared her with a hard stare he hoped would convince her to obey. “Don’t try to interfere. This is all an illusion.”

She nodded, but he saw the fear behind her eyes. “I know it isn’t real.”

He wished Ganymede had forced her to go with him, because knowing the illusion wasn’t real didn’t matter. Klepoth was a master. His illusions
felt
real. But Murmur had no more time to worry about Ivy.

The dead air moved. Not natural. It felt as though the entire Underworld gasped for air—in and out, in and out. A warning that
he
had come. The Master. First Murmur felt the dread, the animal instinct that said danger was near. Then came the vibration in the earth that signaled legions of demons on the move. And with them would come Ganymede’s big cheese. Okay, maybe not
the
big cheese. The big cheese didn’t bother himself with demon discipline unless it involved one of his arch demons.

They flowed across the barren landscape toward him, the thirty legions of demons he commanded—grotesque, powerful, deadly. They moved silently. Part of the horror of the Underworld was the absence of sound. Demons exchanged thoughts, so speech was unnecessary. Those trapped here who couldn’t read thoughts existed in eternal silence. And there were just so many centuries you could spend talking to yourself. This was one of the reasons he clung to his music. If you’d never lived in total silence, you couldn’t truly understand the beauty he found in melodies and rhythms.

Beside him, Ivy gasped. “There’re so many of them.”

“Those are my legions. The Master brought them along to remind me of my duty. I’m supposed to use them to visit destruction on earth.” He laughed softly. “Instead of using my music to amuse myself.”

Murmur felt her shudder. “Klepoth pulled up the most frightening demon images he could think of. We can take whatever form we choose. Personally, I don’t like the clawed hands. It’s tough to play a guitar with them.” He didn’t blame her for not laughing. It was pretty lame.

At a signal only the demons could hear, they stopped. The masses parted, opening a path. And something monstrous slithered toward them. Murmur glanced at Klepoth.

“Give me a break. The Master never took that form.” Slimy and reptilian, it studied him from under hooded lids. Klepoth had nailed the Master’s eyes. Even though Murmur knew the other demon was creating the image, it made him want to back up. He didn’t. “Intimidating, though. Of course, anything more than ten feet tall would do that. But overall, a good job.”

He started to hum in his mind. He’d keep it there. This was Klepoth’s show, and he’d have to bear it to the bitter end without interfering. The Master had sent Klepoth, and the other demon wasn’t about to shirk his duty when he knew what would happen to him if he failed. So even if Murmur tried to avoid him, Klepoth would just follow him around.

His master spoke.

“I am not pleased, Murmur.” He spoke aloud in a wet hiss that revealed rows of sharp teeth. Drool dripped from his thick lips as he watched Murmur.

Murmur had been absent from the Underworld long enough to find his master’s narrow red eyes with their slit pupils a little disturbing.

“I gave you power.”

“Yes, Master.” Not true. Murmur had gained his own power. His master gave no one power if he could help it, because that power could someday be used to overthrow him.

“I gifted you with legions of demons to do your bidding. How have you used them? I see no human deaths, no destruction on the mortal plane.”

“I work alone, Master.” He didn’t think the kills he’d made with his music would impress anyone, certainly not someone who thought a death toll in the thousands was only a minimal success. So he didn’t mention them.

Instead he called for his music—something strong, impenetrable—to form a barrier between himself and the pain. The music didn’t come. Frantic, he tried again. The music had always flowed smoothly, an extension of himself. Now it was gone, as though it had never existed. For the first time in his long existence, he truly felt naked,
afraid
.

“You have failed. You don’t deserve your music.”

Each word cut at him in a very physical sense. Three deep slashes opened in his chest. Pain ripped at him. He gasped. Blood poured from the wounds and dripped onto the gray dirt.

“No!” Ivy’s voice was a horrified whisper.

The Master wasn’t finished. “You have killed less and less as the centuries passed. All of your talent wasted. This makes me angry.”

Invisible claws raked at Murmur’s back. He felt his shirt shred as agony burned through him. He clenched his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms to counter the torture. Blood, warm and sticky, trailed down his chest and back. He would
not
scream.

“Stop it.
Now.
” Ivy’s voice shook, but she stood strong.

He hadn’t wanted her to see this. The pain in her voice hurt him as much as the Master’s punishment. “It. Isn’t. Real.” He gasped between each word.

“The
pain
is real.” Her voice no longer shook. Now anger hardened it.

He wanted to tell her to go inside with Ganymede, but it took all his strength just to stay on his feet.

“As I made you, I can destroy you.” The Master rose to his full height, a scaly monster with clawed hands and feet along with a head that resembled a crocodile’s. A long forked tongue darted out, testing the taste of his words. He found them good, because he almost smiled. “You will burn.”

Murmur panicked for the first time. Not because of the Master’s words, but because Ivy would see it. Real or not, he’d feel the searing agony of the flames, and he
would
scream.

He sucked in his breath as fire rose around him, closing off any escape. Heat blistered his skin, smoke choked him, and the first lick of flames touched him with the promise of unending torture.

Murmur tried to see Ivy through the rising flames, tried to speak words of comfort. But when he opened his mouth, he could only scream.

Ivy met his gaze, saw the agony in his eyes, and lost it. She forgot that Klepoth was the creator of the illusion, forgot that it was even an illusion. Murmur was suffering. That’s all that mattered.

Stop!
The word was in her mind. It swelled and grew until it filled her, until she knew it would explode from her, and that when it did nothing would ever be the same.
Because something else came with it
. She didn’t understand the feeling, the
knowing
. Whatever
other
thing hid within her word, it pushed against her mind. Pushed and pushed until she opened her mouth and freed it.

“Stop!” The sound and power of her voice shocked her.

It was a silent explosion, silent like everything else in this damn place. She rocked with the pulse of expanding released energy. The sudden white flash of light blinded her. She flung her hand over her eyes.

And when she took her hand away, they were all back in the castle’s hallway. She looked for Murmur first. He leaned against the wall, his breaths coming in quiet gasps. There were no wounds, no burns, not even any rips in his shirt. But his face looked drawn and strained.

Ganymede stood staring at her, a speculative look in his cat eyes. The chef sat on the floor wearing a glazed expression. His spatula rested on the floor beside him.

Finally, she looked at Klepoth. He lay on the floor, unmoving.

“You knocked him out when you tore through his illusion.” Murmur sounded as weary as he looked.

Tore through his illusion? What was that about? She didn’t have a clue what had happened.

“Perfect timing, babe.”
Ganymede wasn’t using subtle sarcasm.
“The dancing girls had just come onstage, and I had this giant dish of ice cream in front of me. The cute waitress even poured some Amaretto on it. The Amaretto was so that I could drown my sorrows over Sparkle and her freaking faery. I didn’t even get a chance to taste it.”

The old Ivy would’ve tried to keep the peace by apologizing. The new Ivy decided that Ganymede could suck it up. “That giant slimeball was hurting Murmur.” She took a deep breath and asked the tough question. “What happened?”

“I think we just saw what Mab’s side of your family tree can do.” Murmur pushed away from the wall to walk over to her. He didn’t touch her.

Ganymede sat down while he continued to offer her his unblinking cat stare.
“You’ve got magic, lady.”

Ivy shook her head as she started to back away from them. “No. I didn’t do anything. All I did was yell.”

“And that yell had faery magic attached. I could smell it.”
Ganymede shifted his attention away from her as George shuddered and then clambered to his feet.

“But why now?” It was all too much. She wasn’t ready.

Ganymede stood and moved closer to the chef.
“Because this was the first time you called it.”

“No, no, I didn’t.” She was in full-throttle denial.