Cast in Hellfire: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Mage Craft Series Book 2) (7 page)

“I’m only nineteen and you called me a kid earlier,” Marion said.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know how bad a day you were having earlier. Come on, I know a place you’ll love. It’s fancy. Big crystal chandeliers, classy wait staff, very clean.”

Marion’s smile was still a little too hesitant. “That sounds wonderful.”

They walked all the way down the Strip and through a labyrinthine casino in silence. Seth had a hard time remembering where to go. Lots had changed since he’d lived in Las Vegas after Genesis. Magic and technology had fused. There were as many witches at the blackjack tables as mundane dealers, and the air was thick with spells, flying decks of cards, and even sparkling chips.

Many things hadn’t changed, though. That included the cocktail waitresses, most of whom wore skirts so skimpy that they verged on illegal. They were happy to give Seth directions in exchange for tips. Marion didn’t look surprised by the way that the cocktail waitresses dressed. They must not have impressed her after all the debauchery she’d seen in the Middle Worlds. Sidhe were far worse than Las Vegas.

“Here we go,” Seth said, getting off at the top of an escalator. “It’s right down here—wait.”

The bar he’d expected to find around the corner was a Cheesecake Factory now. A chain restaurant. Clean, yes, but not the bar he remembered. Not the one he’d gone to with Brianna Dimaria so many times, along with the other preternatural investigators in their company.

“Can I help you?” asked the hostess with a too-bright smile.

“How long has this been here?” Seth asked. “What happened to the bar?”

Her cheer cracked. “I’ve only been working here for two years, but…I think this restaurant has been in this spot since like ’22?” Eight years earlier, during the time when Seth had been firmly entrenched at Mercy Hospital.

“It’s fine,” Marion said, glancing uneasily at the crowd surrounding them. “I should get back to the Winter Court and address a few things before we go to Sheol.”

Seth backed out of the restaurant, trying to shake the malaise that had settled over him. “No. No way. We’re getting drinks.”

“My pick this time,” Marion said. “I promise to choose nothing called the Salty Anything.”

They didn’t have to go too far to find something more palatable than a Cheesecake Factory. The next casino over was brand new, something called Valhalla, and it was nothing but dark décor and sparkling chandeliers that glimmered with pixie light.

Marion was as good as her word. She selected a bar that was called the Endless Battle. It was packed that time of night by beautiful young people—all very fashionable, happy, and drunk. None of them held a candle to Marion. Even in jeans and a blouse, she managed to look like she was walking the runway on the way to the bartender.

Seth slipped in between a couple and took the stools they’d vacated. He wiped off the one to his left with his sleeve. “There you go.”

“Such a gentleman,” Marion said.

“It had overpriced cocktail on it. Knowing you, those jeans are worth a few hundred dollars. Can’t get them wet.”

He was rewarded with one of those dimpled smiles. “You’re still teasing me. Have you forgotten what a dreadful day I’m having?”

“You don’t get out of anything that easily,” Seth said.

“A demon has my memories in a jar. If that’s not an excuse for you to take it easy on me, then nothing is.” She perched on the stool, tucking her boots behind the footrest.

“What can I get you guys?” the bartender asked. She was a busty vampire with a tiny waist and lips red as blood.

Seth barely glanced at her. “Long Island Iced Tea for my friend. For me, whiskey straight up.”

The bartender left to get their drinks.

“Whiskey?” A smile flitted across Marion’s lips. “You’re having that kind of week too?”

“That kind of lifetime,” Seth said.

It only took a moment for the vampire to serve them. Seth paid and tipped her.

Marion was giving him a funny smile when the bartender finally left.

“What?” he asked.

“Most women who see you are immensely attracted to you. She was no exception.”

Seth hadn’t noticed. “So what?”

“You aren’t attracted to her.”

“You’re reading my mind?”

“I often don’t need to. Some emotions are strong enough that I have no choice but to read them,” Marion said. “I’m getting a lot of strong feelings from the men in the bar about the vampire. Some of the women are having strong feelings, too. Not you.”

“Hate to repeat myself, but…so what?”

She stared at his forehead as though trying to get into his brain. Her skin was tinted blue-green in the pixie light, making her eyes glow even more brightly. Her hair seemed black where it curled against her cheek. “I thought that you were going to leave for good. Why did you come back for me?”

“I told you,” Seth said. “I need your help.”

“The help you need resembles helping me rather strongly.”

“Would it be a problem if that was the reason?” he asked.

Marion bit the inside of her cheek. She sipped her Long Island Tea, but he thought she was hiding a smile. “Rylie said that you and I don’t have a history. We’ve never met.”

“Nope. That’s what I told you before, wasn’t it?”

“It destroyed my theory as to why we have a connection,” Marion said. “I’ve formulated a new one about you. Would you like to hear it?”

“I’m not sure I do,” Seth said.

“You’re a hero, and I need help, and you’re incapable of going about your business until you’ve saved me.” She’d stopped smiling by the time she finished speaking.

Seth took a long drink of whiskey. It was much more tolerable than the wine from her house.

“I voted to give the Winter Court to the angels,” Marion said suddenly.

He swirled the whiskey in his glass. The ice glittered like gemstones. “That’s not what the gods told you to do.”

“Where are they?” she asked softly, quietly enough that nobody else in the bar would be able to hear. “How much can they care if they’ve left me like…this? They deserve no better than my defiance.”

“You’re probably the only person who could get away with trying to piss them off like that. Elise never let anyone else get away with anything, aside from her husband, whom she let get away with everything.”

“You didn’t like them.”

“It’s complicated,” Seth said.

“That seems to be your favorite word for the gods.”

It was the only word he could use.

“It’s not about thumbing my nose at them,” Marion said. “There are people suffering in the aftermath of the civil war between sidhe. Survivors. If we can appease the angels, thereby preventing further fighting, I’ll be able to keep the refugees safe. Yet almost everyone voted against me in the United Nations.”

“You’re steward of the Winter Court now,” Seth said. “You don’t need UN permission to give Niflheimr to the angels.”

“But then I don’t have backing from the other preternatural factions. Where do I put the refugees if nobody will help me? They’re all afraid of defying the gods.”

“Konig won’t take them?” Seth asked.

“He hasn’t offered. I assume he would if he could. Regardless, this is all academic. I can’t make a deal with the angels if Leliel won’t meet with me.” She propped her forehead on the heel of her hand, glaring into the dregs of her Long Island Iced Tea. “There are so many nuances to pleasing all of the factions, protecting the refugees, and preventing war.”

“You can handle it.”

“That’s what people keep telling me.” She tipped her head to gaze up at him. A curl tumbled over the bridge of her nose. “What would you do?”

He rubbed a hand over his upper lip. “I’d take it sideways. Figure out what Leliel wants. Find her weaknesses. What do you know about her and her allies?”

“She had Oliver Machado,” Marion said.

“I’m not sure he was
directly
involved with the angels.” Not that they could ask, since Charity had ripped his head off. “That doesn’t mean they aren’t linked. Like you said—nuances. What connected Ollie to the angels?” Seth snagged a dry napkin. “Got a pen?”

Marion gave one to him. Like everything else she owned, it was an expensive brand, made of silver and platinum, with a nib that made it look like a quill.

Seth wrote Ollie’s name in one corner and “the angels” in the other. The Autumn Court went in between them.

He drew a line between the angels and the court. “We know these two have an alliance. Right? Oliver was a triadist, and the church has friends among the Winter Court.” He added those to his diagram. “What else?”

“The only connection there is between the Autumn and Winter Courts. They’re both unseelie. But Konig said that they went to the grave hating each other.”

“What could motivate collusion then? Money? Everyone likes money,” Seth said, drumming the end of the pen on the bar. “Or it could be something like revenge.”

“Or love.” Marion was watching Seth even as she continued stirring her remaining ice in ongoing loops. “Nothing motivates people to commit more evil than love.”

“That’s funny coming from you. You’re the one who said love and loss are integral to the human experience. I’d think you were more sentimental about it.”

“I’m having quite the week,” she said softly.

The conversation clearly wasn’t improving anything. He hadn’t taken her out for drinks to make her more miserable.

Seth stuffed the napkin in his pocket. “Hopefully Dana McIntyre finds something. Help us draw a few more lines.”

“I don’t see how it will help me with the angels.”

“Nuances,” he said again. “The angels, they’re shameless. They won’t care what we find about them. They won’t care if we know what they’re doing or why. If they’ve got friends supporting them, though… They might care more about their reputations. If we remove the angels’ support, we mitigate the amount of trouble they make. Rather than appeasing or fighting the angels, you can cripple them.”

“Take it sideways,” Marion mused. “That sounds like the subtle tactics I used, back when I was still myself.”

“You are yourself,” Seth said. “Everything you are right now, this is you.”

“Is it?”

Her hand was resting on the table between them. Seth thought about taking it. Offering comfort.

Her pulse was fluttering in her wrist.

Seth finished his whiskey and set the glass down hard. “Wherever this goes, whatever rabbit holes we end up diving down in the investigation… Don’t give the Winter Court to the angels. Appeasement never stops the greedy. They just take and take and keep on taking.”

“I appreciate the advice. However, speaking of Niflheimr—duty calls. I have to go back for at least a few minutes to sort things out.” Marion pushed the rest of her drink away.

Seth stood when she did. “I can take you.”

“That won’t be necessary.” She took a small white statuette from her pocket. It looked like a key made of marble. “This gets me in touch with Nori. She’ll pick me up.” Marion gave a small smile. “It doesn’t make me sick when she pulls me between planes.”

Seth understood. He had things to do anyway—things with Charity that he needed to address before they could journey to Sheol. “I’ll go to Sheol soon. I’ll get your memories back from Arawn. I promise.”

Her eyes widened with alarm. She reached for his hand. “
You’re
going to get my memories? But Seth—”

He vanished from the bar before she could finish.

M
arion returned
to a Niflheimr that had been changed. Someone had activated the wards on the exterior of the castle, making the interior temperature a balmy five degrees Celsius. She was still chilly in the clothes she’d been wearing in Las Vegas, but not so chilly that she ran for the furs.

Better still, Konig’s knights had rearranged the inner courtyard to serve as a refugee camp. There were more than enough bedrooms in Niflheimr to give one to each family, but they were in various states of disrepair; each room would need to be inspected before moving anyone in.

For now, everyone had beds and tents in the cavernous courtyard, and it was so populous that it was starting to look like a village.

“How wonderful!” Marion said, unable to keep from beaming at the sight of it. “This is
much
better.”

“Thanks,” Nori said. “Uh, not that I had much to do with it. It was the knights, mostly.”

Marion leaped back when a gaggle of sidhe children ran past, nearly knocking her over. Ymir tagged along at the back of the crowd, along with Cyprian and his daughters. It was funny to see the boy—the supposed frost giant—playing with two little unseelie girls. Marion almost believed he would one day grow into a giant by the clumsy way he chased after them. His hands and feet were so big for his body that he kept tumbling all over himself.

He wasn’t laughing, but there was a little bit of a smile lingering around his haunted eyes.

“We’ll need to get everyone into private rooms as quickly as possible,” Marion said. “On that note, have you prepared my bedroom?”

“Yes, of course. I’ve moved the clothes from your second walk-in closet in your Earth home, as well as your bow and quiver, as you asked,” Nori said.

The bow and quiver were the entire reason that Marion had decided to return to Niflheimr. “Excellent. Thank you again.”

Marion headed for the hallway that led toward the rooms.

“
There
you are, princess.” Konig swept out of the door before she could reach it, followed closely by a pair of his knights. Konig’s violet eyes were usually warm with a mixture of love and lust when he looked at Marion. But right now he was all business. “Where have you been?”

“I’ve gotten a lead on restoring my memories. I had to follow through.” Marion kissed him in greeting, as the sidhe usually did, and clutched both of his hands.

“What did you find?” Konig asked.

She shrugged. “Not the memories—yet. But I’ve a better idea of where to look for them. Have you ever heard of an infernal artifact called the Canope?”

“Never. I can ask my parents to look into it.”

“No need. We’ve already found that it’s been bought by a Lord of Sheol. How or why it happened, we really don’t know, but—”

His tone went sharp. “We?”

Cyprian’s daughters and Ymir chose that moment to laugh. The sound made the frosty halls seem a little less remote and alien.

Oops
. Marion had meant to ease into the subject of Seth more gradually than that. “Why don’t we talk in my room?”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” she said. “But Seth’s the one helping me find my memories. Seth Wilder.”

“Lucas Flynn.”

“The one and only,” Marion said.

Konig’s features darkened. Sidhe were transparent about their moods: when they became angry, the entire world surrounding them crackled. “We were never certain that he wasn’t trying to take advantage of you leading up to the summit.”

“
You
were never certain.”

“It must be nice to have the privilege of being so naïve,” he said, cupping her cheek. “This, Marion—
this
is why I’ll be the one to talk to the angels when they arrive. Aren’t you lucky to have me?”

“So lucky,” Marion said without irony. “I trust your judgment where the angels are concerned, and I wish you’d trust that I know Seth well enough.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” Konig sounded like he was working up to a much bigger rant, but he cut off when one of his knights hurried over.

“Heather Cobweb is here, my lord,” the knight said. “She has messages from your parents.”

Konig looked torn. Marion gently urged him, “Go ahead. I’ll keep supervising work on the refugee camp.”

“I’m not worried about the refugees. This conversation isn’t over,” Konig said.

“Agreed,” Marion said. He kissed her, and it was much briefer than she would have liked. As cold as Konig was, he was still several degrees warmer than the Winter Court.

As if sensing her reluctance, Konig only stepped away for a moment. And then he kissed her again. Slower. Deeper.

Marion clutched at his shirt in both of her hands, enjoying the heat of his chest.

“Don’t go far,” Konig said.

And then he was gone to meet Heather.

Marion traced her fingers over her lips.

A cold wind whirled through the courtyard, waking her up enough to remember what she’d come to Niflheimr to do. She hurried into the hall.

Nori showed Marion to a bedroom beside the king’s. It was smaller, but significantly warmer, as Konig had promised. Lush green trees grew within the sitting room. Vines crawled up the icy walls. It was so muggy that a layer of dew clung to the furniture.

With Marion’s belongings in boxes around the bed, it felt as homey as her house on Vancouver Island—or anywhere, really.

She popped open boxes to search for her bow.

“You found your memories?” Nori asked.

“I’ve found who has them,” Marion said. Her bow was in a protective wooden box of its own. She pocketed the oily package of strings, slung the bow across her shoulders, looped her belt through the quiver.

“You’re arming yourself. Does the person with your memories live in a war zone?”

“Something like that.”

“Marion…” Nori sat on the edge of her bed, clutching her clipboard in both hands. She’d been getting personal information on all of the refugee families to make sure that they were accounted for. “Jibril’s going to be here soon to talk to you.”

“I know,” Marion said. “And Konig has made it clear that he’s got everything under control. He’ll also have your help. You’ll assist with negotiations, won’t you? After you return me to Earth, of course.”

Nori’s eyes turned to big circles. “You have a lot to do here.”

“That’s why I’m so grateful for your help. You’re ethereal Gray too. You know as much about the angels as I do—more, since you’ve worked with them directly in Dilmun. And I know that you’ll represent our interests to the best of your ability.” Marion switched out her boots for sturdier boots that laced up to her knees.

Nori floundered. “I guess, but—Konig won’t be happy, and I doubt Jibril will be thrilled, either.”

“I’m the Voice of God,” Marion said. “But I’m useless until I’ve restored myself. I won’t do much good against the angels without my memories and magic.”

“
Against
the angels?”

“Do you really think that talks with Jibril will lead to peace between us?”

“We won’t get a chance to find out if you skip out on it,” Nori said.

“I’m not skipping out. I’m delegating responsibility. And I take great comfort in knowing you’ll be in charge while I’m busy,” Marion said. “Now, let’s get to the Empress Hotel. I have memories to restore.”

S
eth took
a shower as soon as he got back to the Empress Hotel in Victoria. He turned the heat to its maximum setting and stood under the flow with his eyes shut for at least an hour. He told himself that it was because he didn’t know when he would get to shower again—who knew how long he would be in Sheol?—but mostly it was because he didn’t want to deal with reality.

Teleporting Marion to Las Vegas had made her sick, and Seth had been able to feel it the same way that he had felt Agent Hanes having a heart attack.

He’d been as fixated on her sickness as he had been on the heart attack, too.

It had been easy to focus on Marion herself when they’d been together. Her personal pain after meeting Dana McIntyre was adequately distracting, as was the attempt to connect Oliver Machado to the angels.

Once she’d been gone physically, she hadn’t been gone from Seth mentally.

He kept thinking about when she’d collapsed in Las Vegas. He thought about Marion getting sick, and how weakly her heart had beat for a few moments.

Worse, Seth thought about Agent Hanes’s death and the taste of cooling blood on his fingers.

What’s wrong with you?

He let the water wash over his body, but it couldn’t clean the parts of him that were in most desperate need of purification.

Charity was waiting in the room. She wore a fluffy bathrobe and was watching trashy TV in bed. The happiest, most comfortable revenant that Seth had ever seen.

Of course, she was also the only revenant Seth had ever seen.

She groaned when he came out. “Does this mean it’s time for us to go to Sheol?” She’d been insistent that she wanted to help him track the Canope down in Sheol, but she hadn’t needed to work hard to convince him. Going into the Nether Worlds was less intimidating when he knew he’d have something of her power at his back.

“I was hoping we could talk first,” Seth said. “I can’t stop thinking about it.” What he meant was,
I can’t stop thinking about her
.

Charity understood what he meant. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, squinting at him through lenses strong enough that they made her eyes look big. “What have you tried to help you control your instincts so far? Meditation? Emptying your head out?”

“You mean whiskey?”

“Until you know what’s happened to you, it’s probably better to go easy on your liver, doc.” She sat up and turned the TV off.

“Honestly, I haven’t tried anything to get myself under control. It wasn’t much of a problem until recently. How did you resist drinking blood for so many years?” Seth asked.

“Meditation,” Charity said. “I can show you how I do it.” She scooted off the edge of the bed and gestured for him to join her on the floor. “Get comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable.”

“You’re going to wear your shoulder…thing?” She pointed at his underarm holster.

“I’m more comfortable with my gun than without.” He’d been carrying a Beretta for literally as long as he could remember.

“Take it off anyway,” Charity said. “We’re emptying our heads of violent thoughts. Guns are violent.”

“Guns save lives.”

“And kill people, as we saw a little too often in the emergency department. Hunting accidents, misfires…”

“I’m not exactly the average gun owner,” Seth said.

“Isn’t that what they all think?” Charity asked. “Anyway, you’re the one who asked me for help, so let me help you. Do it my way. Take your shoes and gun off.”

Getting barefoot made him feel almost as displaced as he did once the shoulder rig was resting in a puddle of straps by his right knee. He rolled his shoulders out, exhaled slowly.

“So is this where I go all full lotus, say some prayers?” Seth asked.

Charity tipped her head back, eyes closed. A gap in the curtains let light spill over her cheeks. She’d been eating well lately, so her hair and skin looked strong, healthy. “This is where you relax, doc. Can you relax?”

“I’m always relaxed.” But he took a few deep breaths as she instructed.

The problem was that once he closed his eyes, he didn’t have as many distractions from his thoughts.

Like how it had sounded when Charity shredded those agents.

Or how the blood had tasted, cooling on his fingers.

It wasn’t even the flavor that had appealed to him. It had been the way that he could taste them rushing toward death.

The same way that Marion had rushed toward death in the instant they’d teleported.

“This isn’t helping,” Seth said.

Charity sighed. “It’s been five seconds.”

“I can’t stop thinking about everything. How’s sitting around taking deep breaths supposed to make me stop thinking? Does it make you stop craving blood?”

“Not really,” Charity said.

Seth’s eyes popped open. “Then what are we doing?”

She hugged her knees to her chest. “You’re not going to stop craving blood. I think about it every waking moment.
Every moment
. The hunger is my life. Meditation doesn’t make those thoughts go away. In fact, it makes me overwhelmed by them. But in the eye of the hurricane, there’s calm. Get used to living in the storm.”

He was supposed to get used to the idea of wanting to tear Marion’s throat open?

Seth let his eyes fall shut, but this time, instead of focusing on breathing, he thought about how he was going to leave. Get away. Find Marion’s memories, and then never see her again.

People moved elsewhere in the Empress Hotel, their voices murmuring on the other side of the walls. Distantly, teacups clinked against saucers. Wind sighed past the windows.

And Seth thought of blood.

He kept thinking about it. He was trapped in a loop—thinking about the blood he’d already tasted, the deaths he’d seen, and the deaths he wanted to see, and then how he would escape.

Even if he never saw Marion again, the hunger wasn’t going to go away completely.

She’d collapsed at his feet. Her heart had stopped beating, and for one sweet second, he’d thought it might never start again. When he’d helped her off of the ground, he had realized that he could inflict that death upon her personally.

Those were thoughts he hadn’t lingered on before. Not even briefly. Now he lingered on them, reveled in them.

Get used to living in the storm
.

Seth didn’t want to.

“Whiskey’s better,” he said, grabbing his holster off of the floor and standing.

“You need total honesty,” Charity said, watching him move from her spot on the floor. “Maybe for you, it’s not enough to be honest with yourself. You’ve got to be honest with Marion, too. She’s the problem, isn’t she?”

Charity was much too perceptive. “How’d you know?”

“You went on a field trip with her and came back for a cold shower. I mean, it’s not very subtle.”

“The shower was hot, actually. And it’s not like that with Marion.”