Chapter 10

Ten

Ihadn't meant to fall asleep, but when I opened my eyes again, it was morning. I had slept in the Diaboli house. Morning came suddenly, and with a fresh rush of panic. I scrambled to sit upright. I was still by the window, only now I could hear the song of birds and the rustle of trees and… a leaf blower?

I pulled myself up and looked out the window, giving my eyes a moment to adjust to the ambient sunlight outside. Thick trees lined what I could only imagine was the property line. These trees were massive, tall, and full; probably evergreens. They hunched close to each other like prison bars, their full branches obscuring the wall at the very end of the estate.

Between me and the wall was a garden, with a fountain in the shape of an octopus, each of its legs acting as a waterspout. There were birds in the fountain, drinking and washing in the glistening water. Nearby, a man with a pair of earmuffs was running an electric grass trimmer—not a leaf blower—over the grass.

It was the most normal sight imaginable.

No one would've believed this was a mansion of demons and mages who could command them from this serene scene alone. Looking down again, over the window ledge, I saw the shrubs at the bottom and the path near them. It suddenly didn't look like such a long drop anymore. I was still hesitant to make the jump, though.

There were several hundred feet between me and the wall, between me and freedom; how was I supposed to cross all that without being caught?

Still, I needed to do something. I couldn't stay here, and I had to find Max.

Max!

He had been out all night, the Gods only knew where. He hadn't contacted me, nor had I felt him try. He must have thought I was dead… I could only imagine how lost and entirely alone he felt. The longer he was out there, and I was stuck in here, the more danger he was in, and the closer that danger got to him. I needed to get to him first, before anyone else could, and I needed to do it fast. But how? How the hell was I supposed to escape?

A knock at the bedroom door sent my panic response into overdrive again; not that sleeping had helped me relax at all.

"Who's there?" I called out.

There was no reply. The door simply opened… and something unexpected happened. Lucien Diaboli stood at the door. He was well dressed in a pair of black slacks and a black, buttoned-down shirt. His shoes were clean, and polished, his top shirt button was popped, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

In his hands, he held a silver platter with a dome on it and a glass of what looked like orange juice. A tense moment passed since his opening the door and his decision to speak, the silence filled by the drone of the grass trimmer going off outside.

"What—"

"—good—"

We both spoke at the same time, then abruptly stopped. I decided to pick it up again. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

He swallowed, his Adam's Apple bobbing in his throat. "Good morning," he said. "I came to bring you breakfast."

"Breakfast?" I sneered.

"Yes. I figured you would want to eat."

"I'm not hungry," I lied.

After a moment spent considering my response, Lucien decided to enter the room. His growing proximity served only to make my heart start rapidly beating, only not for the reasons it used to. I was terrified of him. Terrified of him, and of his family. I didn't want him, or any of the others, anywhere near me.

Lucien noticed.

He paused mid stride, then continued over to the little desk on the side of the room. There, he placed the platter, the domed dish, and the glass of orange juice. He stopped, then, and even though he opened his mouth to speak, he didn't look directly at me.

I didn't think he could; not after last night.

"I wanted to say a couple of things," he said. "If you'll let me."

"Why should I?" I snapped.

He nodded. Not at me, but at himself. "You don't have a reason to listen to me, you're right. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."

"I don't want your words or your food," I said. "Your family butchered mine last night."

Lucien swallowed again, and visibly winced, as if my words had cut him. Good. "I'm sorry," he said, after a pause. "I'll leave."

True to his word, Lucien turned around and headed for the bedroom door. Before he could reach it, I changed my mind. I wanted to know what he had to say, what he thought he could possibly say, about last night. He was probably going to lie to me, but there was also a chance he would slip up and say something he didn't want to say.

Something important.

Something that could help me get out of here.

"Wait." I called out, "Say what you have to say."

Lucien stopped at the door, placed a hand on it, and turned his head to the side so that I could see half of his face. He really couldn't give me his eyes, not for more than a few seconds.

"Before last night," he said, "I didn't know your name. I didn't know who you were, or where you had come from."

"I find that hard to believe."

"In your place, I would too. But it's the truth. The highlight of my week used to be going to After Dark to see you. Then the other night, you ended things. I hated myself for just walking away, so I came back to find you, only you weren't there."

Though it had only been two days, it felt like a lifetime had passed. I remembered that night the same way a person remembers a dream. As if there was a thin film between me and my memories which made it difficult to see details; only feel the emotions that came with them.

Shame.

Excitement.

Regret.

Passion.

There was so much emotion mixed up in my memories of that man; of Him. But He wasn't Lucien. He was something else—a figure, an icon, an outlet for me to express my desire for freedom from the protective bubble my parents had kept me in my entire life.

Lucien was a Diaboli. Lucien was responsible for my parents' deaths. Lucien was probably going to kill me, too.

All I felt for him now was contempt, and rage.

"Get to the point," I said, clenching my jaw.

He took a deep breath. "I found the amulet on the floor," he said, "In the stall we had just…" he trailed off. "I didn't know who it belonged to, or how long it had been there, but I knew the moment I touched it, it was powerful. Magical."

"So, you just took it?"

"What else was I supposed to do? My family is always on the hunt for magical artifacts. I couldn't believe I had just found one in a nightclub toilet."

"Yeah, great! Congratulations for finding a way into my house so your family could kill mine in cold blood," I spat.

"I didn't know that would happen," he said. He was trying hard not to raise his voice, but I could feel the strain in his words. "I figured my father would know what it was and what to do with it, so I brought it to him."

"Touching story. Was he proud of you for being a good little boy and fetching the shiny amulet?"

Lucien paused, then he turned his head away. "He was… for once. That's what makes all of this worse."

"I lost my parents last night, not you. You don't get to make me feel bad."

"I know. Nothing I say can change that."

"Then why are you talking at all?"

"Because I needed you to know… I didn't know any of this would happen. I would've tried to stop it if I had known."

"You had so many chances to stop it!" I shouted, no longer caring who might overhear us, "But you sat there and let it happen."

Lucien nodded. "I'm sorry, Beatrice," he said, and then he left, shutting the door behind him.

For a long moment I stood where I was. I hadn't realized until now, but I was shaking. Each and every one of my limbs was trembling, and my eyes were welling up with tears. I tried not to think about my parents, not to invite those horrific images into my mind, but they burrowed their way in anyway.

I shut my eyes and allowed the tears to fall down my cheeks as last night's events played out in my mind. I saw Lucien… I saw the way he stood up at the dinner table last night, how he tried to get his father to stop what he was doing.

He should have tried harder.

I was in turmoil, my insides churning like they were being twisted slowly, and painfully. The tsunami of grief I'd been trying to hold back threatened to strike and overwhelm me, and I didn't know where to go, where to look, what to do, what to think. But I couldn't let myself be swept away by these feelings, Max was depending on me.

Hell, the fate of the city was in my hands, because if the Diaboli got their hands on that Infernal Engine of theirs, who knew what they would be able to unleash? Them getting their hands on that engine was bad news for everyone.

Everyone.

It took a long moment for me to settle myself, burying the powerful swell of emotions. When I finally did, I walked calmly over to the desk on which Lucien had left the platter. I still didn't quite feel the urge to eat, but I knew I should, if only to regain some of my strength.

I was going to need it, after all.

Pulling the dome off the plate, I was treated to the still surprisingly warm aroma of pancakes. They were fluffy, and golden, and stacked high on the plate. Next to them was a tray with some butter on it, and a small bowl filled with strawberry jelly.

For a minute I stood there, staring at the plate like it was covered in alien runes, wondering how they knew my pancake preference. Most people I knew—which meant the members of my family—had their pancakes with syrup. I had been told that was a pretty common combination out there, in the real world. Apparently, I was the weird one who preferred jelly on her pancakes.

Specifically, strawberry jelly.

So, how did Lucien know?

I wanted to resist eating them, but now that I was here… they looked good, they were still warm, and the smell was making my mouth water. So, I ate. I finished the plate. I drank the juice. And in the quiet silence of my prison cell, I contemplated my escape.