Chapter 12

Twelve

Iawoke with a start, my heart wedged in my throat. A searing punch of pain in my arm sent me shooting back to the bed I was on. Grimacing, I sucked in a deep breath of air through my teeth to try to keep a hold on my consciousness.

I wasn't sure where I was. It was dark, too dark. I couldn't see a thing in front of me. Were my eyes even open? I turned my head to the side and tried to focus on something, anything. After a long moment of concentration, I started to make out the small end table by the side of the bed I was on.

I was back in the bedroom.

Back in the house with all the demons.

Another sharp pulse of pain moved through me. It wasn't just my arm that hurt, but my entire right side, from my shoulder all the way to my knee. I went to inspect the damage, only to find the arm bandaged and wrapped in a sling against my chest; I was in bad shape—too bad to move, to fight, to defend myself. In trying to escape the Diaboli house, I had made my life a hundred times more complicated.

The bedroom door suddenly opened, letting a sliver of light into the bedroom. I tried to scramble up the bed, to sit upright, but the searing pain that blossomed from my ribs quickly put a stop to that. I had expected Mason or Carla Diaboli to be stood by the door, coming to mock my escape attempt, but when I looked over; it was Lucien.

He didn't enter, not right away. Instead, he slightly opened the door and waited for a moment before asking. "May I come in?"

My breaths were coming in quick and ragged, my heart was hammering against my chest, and I felt like I could pass out at any moment.

"What if I say no?" I croaked. "You're gonna come in anyway, aren't you?"

"You can say no. I made you something to eat but I can leave it out here for you."

"Are you seriously bringing me food again?"

Lucien pushed the door open with his hip. He was again carrying a tray with a domed plate. It was hard to see him in the dark, but the shine of the metal plate and the glint of his rings was unmistakable. He pushed the door closed with his foot, and set the tray down on the end table before flicking on the lamp.

I saw him properly, now, his face bathed in soft, warm, orange light.

After a moment, he asked, "What were you thinking?"

"What?"

"Why did you jump?"

"I didn't. I was pushed by one of your invisible friends."

Lucien's face hardened. "You shouldn't have tried to escape. How did you think that was going to work out?"

"I'm not going to just sit and languish in this room until your family finds and murders my brother."

"I don't know if you have much of a choice now," he said, nodding towards my shoulder. "I tended your wounds, but there's only so much magic can do to help."

He healed me? Cooked for me?

I didn't want to believe him, but I had no reason to doubt him, either. Someone had patched me up, that much was certain. And he had been the one to bring food up to my room—twice. What was his game plan, here?

"I suppose I should be thanking you, then," I said.

He shook his head. "I don't need thanks. I'm just telling you what happened after you… fell."

"I told you, I didn't fall. The creatures your family keeps as pets decided they would have a little fun at my expense, and they pushed me."

"They're dangerous," he snapped, "I know you want to leave, but that was stupid."

A short, awkward silence followed as I glared at the side of his head; he still wasn't able to look me directly in the eyes.

"I don't understand. Did you come here to deliver food, or critique me on my failed escape attempt?"

Lucien sighed. "Look, I know you hate me. Whatever, you're right to hate me, but I am trying to help you."

"Help me? If you really wanted to help me, you would be trying to help me escape."

"You know I can't do that."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"Nothing. I don't want anything from you." He paused. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"You don't…" I trailed off.

"No. What makes you think I do?"

"You killed my family."

"My father and Carla did that."

"You are part of your family, which means you're as complicit as they are."

It looked like he was about to argue but he stopped himself, shook his head, and turned around.

"Forget it, I didn't come here to fight with you. I came to see how you were and deliver your meal."

"I don't need you to check on me. I need you to help me get out of here."

He shook his head again. "You don't get it, do you?"

"Enlighten me, because I clearly don't."

"My father won't let you leave this place. Not until you give him what he wants."

"And when I give him what he wants, he'll kill me in cold blood."

"He won't, I know that he won't."

"You know, or you hope?"

Lucien shut his eyes but said nothing.

"You clearly don't know your father as well as you thought you did."

"Maybe I don't, but I don't think he'll kill you when you give him the engine."

"And how's that?"

"Because he's already talked about bringing you into the fold."

My eyes narrowed. "He what?"

"He thinks there's a place for you here, with us. Your skills are useful, outside of helping him get into the vault."

"My skills…" I said, nodding softly. "So, his plan is to make me give him the Infernal Engine, and then use me for my magical abilities for as long as it suits him."

Lucien turned around, looking at me directly this time. "If you don't do what he says, he will kill you. I promise you. And then your brother…"

"Don't talk about my brother," I snapped.

Even in the dark, I could see his facial features darken. "He's alone, Beatrice. If my father kills you, it'll only be a matter of time before he gets to him, and you know what he'll do to him then."

I swallowed hard. "I do…" I admitted.

He then scanned the room, as if he was looking for someone. Lucien hurried toward the bedroom door, I saw his hand ignite with warm, red light. He placed it on the door, uttered a series of quiet words I didn't understand, and then he rushed toward the window, where he did the same.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Quiet," he said, as he rushed over to my bed. Instinct made me want to back away from him, but I was on the bed, kind of helpless. There was nowhere to go.

I watch Lucien place his glowing, red hand on the headboard and speak those same quiet words he had said at the door and the window. Horrified, I realized there was an eerie delay between his mouth moving, and the guttural words pouring out of his throat. His eyes flashed deep crimson, and when he was done speaking, he pulled his hand away from the bed.

Something, I knew, had happened. I had felt his magic push through the room like a quiet shockwave. "What… what did you do?" I asked.

"I gave us a moment alone. It's just us in here, now."

I stared at him, my heartbeat deepening. "Why did you do that?"

He took a deep breath in through the nose, then exhaled. "What my father has done is wrong… and I'm going to help you."

I stared at him, eyes narrowing. "I thought you said you couldn't help me."

"I can't just magic you away from here. I can only help you if you help yourself."

"What does that even mean?"

He placed a hand on the bedside table and leaned over toward me. "I mean it when I say he'll kill you, Beatrice. I never thought he could be capable of the monstrous things he's done, but now that I've seen it… I don't want him to hurt you."

"Considering what I saw that night, there's not much you can do if he does decide to kill me."

He turned his eyes away. I could tell my words had stung. Good. "I know," he said, "But there may be a way I can get you out of here; orchestrate a chance for you to escape."

In an instant, everything changed, and for the first time since meeting the Diaboli family, I felt hope. "Please, tell me this isn't some kind of twisted Diaboli humor," I said.

"It's not. I need to think and plan this properly, for now just don't do anything stupid."

"Gee, thanks."

"I mean it. You dislocated your shoulder. I did the best I could, but that's still going to take a few days to heal."

"So, you want me to just sit on my hands?"

"One of your hands, at least." He paused. "That was meant to be humor."

My frown deepened. "That wasn't funny."

He shook his head. "Look, my father isn't going to keep you in this room forever. Like I said, he's going to try to figure out if you can be trained as a Diaboli."

"I would rather die, honestly."

He sighed. "I'm going to try to figure out a way to get you away from him, but there's no getting you out of this room without the demons knowing about it. They'll tell him before you even get through the door."

"That's how he knew where to find me when I… fell."

"Right." Lucien leaned a little closer, as if he wanted to whisper. "If we're going to do this, you're going to have to be a good girl and play along. Can you do that?"

Woah, something about those words started a whole flutter of butterflies in my stomach "Yes," I said, firmly. "I can."

"Good. I need you to survive long enough to get you the fuck out of this place. I don't know when, or how, just remember; do what he says, and don't do anything stupid. Do you understand?"

I paused and found myself staring into his eyes. In this dim light, they didn't look red, but brown. I remembered them well; the eyes of a man I had once trusted enough with my body. Did that mean I could trust him with my life? Maybe, maybe not. There was only one way to find out.

"I understand," I said.

Lucien lingered near me for a moment that seemed to span a lifetime. When he drew away, my body felt like it had been pulled toward him. I watched him walk around the bed, reach the door, and turned around once more.

"Stay alive," he said.

I nodded. "I will." I paused. "Wait, will the… demons come back?"

"Not tonight. Eat, then get some sleep."

Lucien exited the room and shut the door behind himself. For a moment I sat exactly where I was, not moving, just thinking. I felt like a mental gymnast, vaulting up, over, and sliding under every single thought running around inside of my head.

I believed him.

I believed him when he said his father would end my life. Believed him when he told me he wanted to help me. Believed him when he said he would try to get me out of here. Did that mean that, when push came to shove, he would stop his father from trying to hurt me?

No.

Maybe he meant well, but Mason Diaboli was a force of nature, and I didn't think Lucien was capable of patricide. That didn't mean we were never going to get out of this place. As long as I did what he asked, as long as I was a good girl, there was a chance I could get out of here.

Fuck if I wasn't going to take it.