hate me for the rest of your life, I must begin immediately.”
Piper immediately leaped away from Ash and gestured for Vejovis to approach. “Heal him, please. Ash, keep your mouth shut and let him or I’ll kill you myself.”
Ash grunted. His face twisted with what could have been pain or loathing. What was his problem with Vejovis?
“I’d like you two to please leave the room,” Vejovis said over his shoulder as he kneeled beside his patient. To Ash, he said, “Release your glamour. I need to see what I’m doing.”
Piper paused, looking curiously over her shoulder in spite of the gravity of the situation, but Lyre grabbed her arm and hauled her up the flight of stairs at the back of the garage. The second floor had a small, musty apartment that hadn’t seen human habitation in a long time. It was well populated with small, four-legged inhabitants though. She wrinkled her nose at the mouse crap everywhere and found what looked like a relatively clean kitchen chair. She thumped down and went to press her hands to her face before realizing they were covered in Ash’s blood. Her fingers trembled.
“Will he be okay?” she whispered.
Lyre sat in the chair beside hers. “I hope so. Vejovis is a legend.”
“Why does Ash hate him?”
“No idea.”
She bit her lip and looked at the incubus. “Is it bad that we left them alone?”
Lyre sighed. “Ash wouldn’t have dropped his glamour if we were there, and then he would have died. The worst Vejovis could do is kill him . . . but why bother when he was minutes from death anyway?”
“Why wouldn’t Ash drop his glamour in front of us?”
“Well . . . in front of you,” Lyre corrected. He stared at the filthy tabletop with bloodshot eyes. “He wouldn’t want to frighten you.”
“Ash would die just to not frighten me?”
He exhaled sharply. “No. But he would have argued and resisted like the stubborn idiot he is and by then it would’ve been too late.”
“Why does it matter so much to him?”
“You don’t get it, Piper. You think you know all about us but you’re still just a child. How many daemons have you seen without glamour? Some don’t look pretty or cool or interesting. Their real forms are alien, or ugly, or frightening. We don’t show humans what we look like, because after you see, you never forget. You never believe we’re human again.”
“You’re not human.”
“And your human head knows that, but your gut doesn’t. Once you see us without this mask, this disguise,” he gestured to his body, “your gut will know it too. Some daemons you can’t help but fear. You will always be afraid. It’s human nature.”
“I’m a haemon,” she said flatly.
“You’re human where it counts.”
Piper folded her arms and glared at nothing, but she couldn’t stop picturing Ash’s black-scaled hand, the deadly claws, that glimpse of a wing. Maybe she didn’t want to know what he actually looked like.
Leaning back in her chair, she tried to relax, but she couldn’t stand to sit still with nothing to do but wonder if Ash was dying below them with no one but a daemon he hated for company.
“I don’t understand,” she said, mainly to fill the silence, “about those daemons that attacked Ash. The minotaur and that Cottus guy . . .” A memory of a textbook page floated into her mind’s eye and fear trickled through her. “Uh, when Ash said ‘Cottus,’ he didn’t mean the Cottus, as in Cottus of the Hecatonchires brothers, did he?”
“Cottus the Striker,” Lyre agreed tiredly. “One of the nastiest, most expensive mercenaries in the Underworld.”
“And Ash fought him ?”
“Unsuccessfully, considering the end result,” Lyre muttered darkly.
She chewed on a fingernail. Compared to Cottus, Ash’s reputation was like a summer thunderstorm to a volcanic eruption. Cottus was an ancient daemon with several millennia of accumulated nastiness.
“Who’s this ‘big boss’ that sent Cottus after
Piper immediately leaped away from Ash and gestured for Vejovis to approach. “Heal him, please. Ash, keep your mouth shut and let him or I’ll kill you myself.”
Ash grunted. His face twisted with what could have been pain or loathing. What was his problem with Vejovis?
“I’d like you two to please leave the room,” Vejovis said over his shoulder as he kneeled beside his patient. To Ash, he said, “Release your glamour. I need to see what I’m doing.”
Piper paused, looking curiously over her shoulder in spite of the gravity of the situation, but Lyre grabbed her arm and hauled her up the flight of stairs at the back of the garage. The second floor had a small, musty apartment that hadn’t seen human habitation in a long time. It was well populated with small, four-legged inhabitants though. She wrinkled her nose at the mouse crap everywhere and found what looked like a relatively clean kitchen chair. She thumped down and went to press her hands to her face before realizing they were covered in Ash’s blood. Her fingers trembled.
“Will he be okay?” she whispered.
Lyre sat in the chair beside hers. “I hope so. Vejovis is a legend.”
“Why does Ash hate him?”
“No idea.”
She bit her lip and looked at the incubus. “Is it bad that we left them alone?”
Lyre sighed. “Ash wouldn’t have dropped his glamour if we were there, and then he would have died. The worst Vejovis could do is kill him . . . but why bother when he was minutes from death anyway?”
“Why wouldn’t Ash drop his glamour in front of us?”
“Well . . . in front of you,” Lyre corrected. He stared at the filthy tabletop with bloodshot eyes. “He wouldn’t want to frighten you.”
“Ash would die just to not frighten me?”
He exhaled sharply. “No. But he would have argued and resisted like the stubborn idiot he is and by then it would’ve been too late.”
“Why does it matter so much to him?”
“You don’t get it, Piper. You think you know all about us but you’re still just a child. How many daemons have you seen without glamour? Some don’t look pretty or cool or interesting. Their real forms are alien, or ugly, or frightening. We don’t show humans what we look like, because after you see, you never forget. You never believe we’re human again.”
“You’re not human.”
“And your human head knows that, but your gut doesn’t. Once you see us without this mask, this disguise,” he gestured to his body, “your gut will know it too. Some daemons you can’t help but fear. You will always be afraid. It’s human nature.”
“I’m a haemon,” she said flatly.
“You’re human where it counts.”
Piper folded her arms and glared at nothing, but she couldn’t stop picturing Ash’s black-scaled hand, the deadly claws, that glimpse of a wing. Maybe she didn’t want to know what he actually looked like.
Leaning back in her chair, she tried to relax, but she couldn’t stand to sit still with nothing to do but wonder if Ash was dying below them with no one but a daemon he hated for company.
“I don’t understand,” she said, mainly to fill the silence, “about those daemons that attacked Ash. The minotaur and that Cottus guy . . .” A memory of a textbook page floated into her mind’s eye and fear trickled through her. “Uh, when Ash said ‘Cottus,’ he didn’t mean the Cottus, as in Cottus of the Hecatonchires brothers, did he?”
“Cottus the Striker,” Lyre agreed tiredly. “One of the nastiest, most expensive mercenaries in the Underworld.”
“And Ash fought him ?”
“Unsuccessfully, considering the end result,” Lyre muttered darkly.
She chewed on a fingernail. Compared to Cottus, Ash’s reputation was like a summer thunderstorm to a volcanic eruption. Cottus was an ancient daemon with several millennia of accumulated nastiness.
“Who’s this ‘big boss’ that sent Cottus after
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