She passes us, so freaking close, but doesn’t seem to notice a thing. How weird. Is she pretending? Or maybe that guy was especially good at finding spirits?
Another reaper appears from the other side. He meets the girl as the two scan the horizon.
“No luck?” he asks.
“No. I thought she could be around the ruins,using them as a hiding spot.”
The guy releases a sigh. “I feel nothing here.”
“Me, neither.”
He nods. “Okay. Let’s head back up then. She must be headed to the portal,and we can’t have fuck-ups today. Not with the princes coming to the Council.”
And the two leave. I still take air in through shallow breaths, just to be sure, then I let Oreo go. “How weird. They said they weren’t feeling me. Is that how the other guy found me?” I look at Oreo. He blinks slowly. “The only thing that changed is… you.” I arch an eyebrow. He cocks his head. “Is that you? Are you keeping them from finding me?”
Oreo lets his tongue roll out again. I can only chuckle. He has to be the reason the reapers aren’t finding me. Maybe because he’s a hellhound and originally from the Underworld. Concealment must be in his powers. And that’s fucking amazing. I scratch him behind the ears, then get to my feet, aiming for the portal.
Oreo has just given me the best of chances, and I cannot fail.
“Let’s get back to the others.”
CHAPTER6
ZAKI
It is so funny. No, really, it is so fucking funny. I find it the most hilarious thing I have ever seen in my life, and I don’t even know how old I am. I mean, are we counting in fae years? Human years? It’s not like there’s a sun in the Abyss, anyway.
I find it amusing, to say the least, that I am in the most doomed place in all of existence, and I had to put on a suit. Not only that, but I was basically forced to comb my hair back, and I quote, “look presentable.”
This is hell, truly. Being forced to look like someone I’m not, and pretend I like people I don’t. I cannot imagine an afterlife worse than this.
“Sir?” a man calls from close by,and I turn around to find a waiter holding a tray in front of me. A collection of glass flutes balanceson top of it, made of crystal so iridescent it could be diamonds. The topsof the flutes are painted gold, and I would bet my right ass-cheek it’s made with the material, too.
The Devil is the lord of subterranean shit and all that, jewels included. I don’t care much about him. Thinks he’s better than any of us in the Abyss. He might be more powerful,but “better” is a subjective definition.
I pick up one of the flutes, having no idea what the black, bubbly liquid inside is. “Appreciate it,” I reply, greeting the waiter with the glass. “This party is going to need buckets of alcohol.”
The waiter bows and then turns to leave. I shoot a glance at his back, giving him a quick once-over. But nope. Boring. Nothing new about this one. There’s nothing new at this party. Same old people from both the Underworld and the Abyss, every important face from every house. Succubi and incubi, ifrits all around, even djinns. Haven’t seen those in a while. They have more business in the Light Realm than I could ever dream of.
A succubus with long, white-blond hair, high heels, and short horns approaches me. She has that fake smile on her face, the same fake smile every one of these demons has when we’re in the Underworld.
“Zaki,” she greets with a purr, hooking her arm through mine. “So long without seeing you.”
Not long enough, in my not-so-modest opinion. Succubi are not meant to be this clingy. I have no idea why this one likes to stick around me so much—it’s not like I treat her well or anything. We are creatures of the Abyss, never meant to become friends, never meant to stay together. This is not our nature.
I ignore her and take a long gulp of the bubbling liquid in my glass. A hot shiver spreads through me, and a pang of anger stabs at my chest. I pull the glass back to look at it appreciatively. Shit, these goons in the Underworld know how to make their drinks. A cocktail that makes you angry? Holy fuck, I wish I could take that home in gallons. I’d secretly feed it to my family just to watch the house burn down.
“Have you heard?” the succubus next to me drawls. “The Devil is looking for a mate.”
“He’s always looking for a mate,” I say against the inside of my glass.
She chuckles as if that was the funniest thing on hell-forsaken earth. Fuck, I hate sycophants. “Well, that’s also true. But I guess he’s getting serious about it.”
Bullshit. The Devil is always serious about finding his forever mate. It’s a never-ending cycle. He sets out to find his mate, gets disappointed he didn’t, burns a couple of cities down, then feels better and tries again. I used to think the entire concept of mates only applied to some species of shifters—half-human, half-animal. Demons? Fallen angels? I don’t know if the Devil believes that or if he’s only hoping there’s someone out there who will want him.
How could I judge? He’s the Devil. Why would anyone want to be with him?
And on that note—why would anyone want to fuck me twice? I sneak a glance at the succubus still clinging to my shirt, rubbing her breasts up and down my elbow. This girl has to be out of her mind. There are enough fallen and demons around here for her never to sleep with me again. And I neversleep twice with the same person, with the sole exception of group activities. Freedom is the most important thing for me, and the rarest too. I would never risk my freedom by sleeping twice with the same person and giving them the wrong impression. There’s no such thing as love when people only think of what they gain out of everything.