Chapter 32

32

XAVIER

E ntering the manhole turned out to be surprisingly easy considering the proximity of the flames. Their bitter sting did reach the tunnels, the walls partially painted with ice.

Andri. My mind struggled to comprehend him being here. Tanith really had saved the best surprise for last. He and Ismael had never met, but when Ismael was prince, he studied the various texts on him in the royal library regularly

The demon of ice was considered an enemy of the crown for shaping the frozen lake—the bane of our monarchs. Studying his history was banned for the general masses of the demon realm. However, Ismael's royal standing allowed him access to everything, and he developed an obsession with Andri. One I'd often tried to quell.

"Made it," Roman said at the bottom of the ladder.

My witch exuded energy, his skin a riot of light and glitter. He transformed the grim, smelly sewer tunnel into a disco—prettied up the pipes, the slimy walls, his radiance like no other.

Yet I worried for him. He might have been blessed with renewed strength, but what happened when the energy was spent?

His fingers curled into mine. "Ready?"

I gave his hand a squeeze in response.

His nostrils flared. "Wait." He tapped the side of his head. "Lizard Guy's known for his tracking. Got a really good nose for it." He sniffed deeply, pulling a disgusted face. "Man, I can pick up every single stink. Yuck."

"You're using their senses?" I wondered.

"Yeah. And they're heightening mine. Cool, right? I'm so ready for a fight."

I nodded hesitantly.

He didn't seem to notice, a little drunk on his new power. "This way."

I can't lose him to a corrupting power… I boxed the thought for the time being, concentrating on the matter in hand. This would all be fixed soon.

I hoped.

Roman led us through the tunnels with purposeful strides, as if he knew these tunnels like the back of his lovely hands.

"I can smell the heart of the ice," he said a few times.

Dread coursed through me with each step. Even in a diminished state without his magic, Andri posed a deadly threat.

What did Ismael want to achieve with him by his side? A new love, to be king of a world of ice and violence?

Memories carried me away from the sewer to the throne room of the royal palace. Twenty torture devices, their design based on Earth's iron maidens, carved from the crystals of Level 311. Poisoned crystals. Because a demon didn't truly die unless slain by Arcana, there wasn't any respite from the agony of the deadly toxin. And the demon's body wouldn't vanish to convalesce in some quiet corner as it normally would, trapped within an endless loop of torment.

Ismael often used the crystal maidens on his subjects on a whim to alleviate his restlessness, or because a demon simply asked him the wrong question. The screams of those victims haunted the palace every week.

And he didn't stop there. He burned towns and villages across the levels to demonstrate his dominion over all demonic life. He starved the residents, had them beaten or cut into pieces for public display. Anything to bring pain and fear. All because he was having a bad day, his grief dragging him deeper into a rage.

His hurt was every other demons' to bear, too.

There were parallels there with Queen Margarite.

Roman stopped, forcing me out of my thinking.

He held up at hand. "There's someone here."

My senses prickled. "Demon."

Slow, cautious footsteps sounded around the next bend. I moved in front of Roman on instinct, inching closer to the demon.

Those footsteps stopped "Who's there?"

A familiar voice.

Roman came up to my side, his glittery light everywhere. "Phillipe?"

Yes. That was Phillipe's voice—the demon who campaigned for peace between the races and was a target for those opposed to his views.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice going up an octave on the last word.

His fear was palpable to say the least, heavy in the air like a fog.

"Trying to stop the madness," Roman said.

A few seconds passed.

"Who are you?" the peaceable demon asked.

Roman brushed past me. I went to stop him, but he was already out of my reach.

"Hi," he said, standing in view. "You look knackered."

I followed him, swallowing my irritation at his move. He shouldn't be so quick to act, a capable assassin witch or not. Phillipe might well be regarded as safe, but still.

Phillipe leaned against an ice-kissed pipe, his clothes covered in filth, dirt smeared his fair freckled complexion, his red hair greasy, his boyish charm tainted by something sickly.

"Shadow…" he said breathlessly. "Margarite's assassin." He looked at me. "Xavier."

We'd encountered Phillipe on Roman's last job for the deposed queen. He'd gone to assassinate King Basile as the royal train made its way from London to France. He didn't slay the king, leading to our first night in a French motel.

My skin tingled in remembrance of that wonderful moment, vivid echoes of Roman's touch tingling across my skin.

"Are you hurt?" Roman asked him, taking a step closer.

"Stay back!" he barked.

I took Roman's shoulder, ready to kill if the demon tried anything.

"Sorry…" Phillipe hunched over. "I'm so tired. I can't…" He released a shaky breath. "Ismael has Basile and Piper."

Roman visibly paled beneath his sparkle. "Where are they?"

"Horse Guards Parade. He wants to execute them on live TV to show the world he means business."

Just like Margarite did to the human and the demon.

Roman looked at me, his eyes wide. "Shit."

"They're turning the city into an icy inferno." Phillipe lifted his gaze to me. "Is that really Andri by his side?"

"I'm afraid so," I answered.

"We have to stop them. The ice fire has almost consumed London already." He winced, tentatively touching his left side. "I tried to do something but… One of the other monarchs… Pandora… She poisoned me."

Pandora, queen of the toxins, had been a kinder monarch than Ismael in her reign years before his. She only poisoned her enemies if they pushed her to it. Things did get out of hand at the end of her rule, paranoia consuming her, leading to a mass poisoning of her palace staff. She soon went into the lake to make way for the next queen.

Phillipe raised his T-shirt, exposing a festering wound on his left side. A map of black veins spread across his skin, fissuring up toward his heart. I saw one of them move a centimeter.

"I haven't got long," he said. "Maybe a few minutes at best." As he said that, the poison made gains, vanishing under his top. He groaned, lowering himself to the ground.

Roman took a step toward him and reached out a hand. "What can?—"

"No!" Phillipe and I barked at the same time.

"It will infect you if you touch him," I said.

Roman stilled, taking a few deep breaths. "I'm so sorry."

Phillipe rested his spine against the wall, sighing deeply. "Please just stop them. I… I failed but you can…" He struggled for his next breaths, a sheen of sweat shining on his face. His skin flushed, flecks of obsidian appearing in his white eyes.

Two minutes later, he was gone.

"Damn it," Roman whispered, turning to face me. He took hold of my biceps, fixing me with his amber stare. "I won't let you die again."

I mirrored him, planting a kiss on his forehead. "I love you."

He smiled. "I'll never get sick of hearing that."

Phillipe's body slumped to the side, his head hanging forward.

I kissed Roman gently on the lips.

He released me, smelling the air again. "Think we're about a mile away. Come on. We won't let the poor guy die in vain."

Our journey continued as Roman told me about Darcy's ex, Jaz.

"Strange," I said as we turned a corner.

"Yeah. It's like fate's connecting things with crazy threads."

Halfway to our location, we found a worker's station tucked away behind a door. There were monitors, a small TV on standby, and some thick, hi-vis jackets hanging over the back of the chairs.

Roman slipped one on. It dwarfed him a bit but would suffice.

"What about you?" he said.

There were none big enough for me. But I did find a scarf and a beanie hat.

"That's not enough," Roman complained.

"I have my heat."

He poked me gently in the ribs. "If you freeze to death, I'll never talk to you again."

Such cuteness required another kiss.

My love licked his lips. "Sweet. You know how to lighten the mood."

He switched on the TV to a news channel revealing the unfolding horror at Horse Guards Parade.

A gathering of humans in chains knelt before a raised platform at the center of the parade with two pyres side by side. Tied to poles sticking out of the kindling were Queen Piper and King Basile.

"Oh my God," Roman breathed.

We left quickly, reaching our location in no time. Ice patterns adorned the manhole cover above, wisps of icy air streaming through the gaps.

"Ready?" Roman said, doing up his front zip.

"When we encounter Andri, be aware his reflexes. Only act if necessary." I tried keeping the fear out of my voice.

"Noted."

The moment we exited the sewers into the frozen street of Whitehall, Andri was waiting for us