Spending more time with him is the last thing I want to do, but I’m not going to give him a reason to watch me closely. I’ll have dinner with him tonight, and after the rest of the castle is asleep, I’ll slip out and make my way back to the bargainer demon territory to find the answers I’m seeking. We didn’t fly for days on end so I can’t be more than a week’s travel. Maybe. I need to find a map to verify before I start out, so maybe leaving tonight isn’t the best idea. I’ll have to see what I can source between now and dinner and then decide based on that.
No. Damn it, I’m stalling. It doesn’t matter. I’ve lived off the land before, and even if the bargainer demon territory is a couple hundred miles away, I can make the trek. I only agreed to stay in this realm. Everything else is up for grabs.
I hate the uncomfortable guilt that rises. I’ll come back. No doubt Azazel will be only too happy to ferry me to Bram once I get my answers. And that’s fine. I said I’d stay here for seven years, and I will, but that damned demon knows what happened to my mother and I can’t stand being this close without finding out the truth.
I look up at Bram. “Dinner would be great.”
4
BRAM
There’s something off about Grace’s energy, but I can’t quite put my finger on what. All the other people in the demon realm, regardless of who they call their own, experience the same emotions. It always shows up exactly alike: deep ocean blue for contentment, red for anger, a rich green for jealousy. The energy around Grace feels muted, as if she’s drawn into herself. That sort of thing shouldn’t be possible. I suspect it has more to do with how she processes her emotions than any kind of mysterious magic she’s conducting.
Still, it means she’s hiding something.
Perhaps I should let it go. I don’t imagine humans make deals with bargainer demons when their lives are perfect and well-adjusted. I want to build something between us on trust, to convince her to share my bed long enough to conceive a child and then carry it to term. That won’t happen if I start accusing her of lying to me within an hour of bringing her here.
But I’m not a fool.
The other people in this realm might think humans are the weak ones, playthings to be passed around or bargained for, but I know exactly how dangerous they really are. Gods, one of the first full sentences Grace spoke to me was to ask if I can burn. That’s not a normal thing to think. I just hope Grace isn’t as bloodthirsty as . . .
No. I’m not going to think about that. This is as close to a fresh start as I can get, and it’s vital I take advantage of it. I won’t get another chance. Besides, Azazel snuck in that clause preventing her from harming me or my people. I’m not exactly certain how it will be enforced, but bargainer demon magic is a strange, fluid thing.
I leave her be and head to make arrangements for dinner. There aren’t many people about, but then there are never many people about these days. The noble families ensure there are enough of them in residence to be properly represented, but their absence leaves the court feeling like a ghost town. I still remember the time when I couldn’t walk down the halls without seeing half a dozen people, when our dinners and events were filled wall-to-wall, when we needed a full staff at all times to ensure everyone’s needs were met.
That was a long time ago.
I only see one person as I head down to the main floor, and they duck into a side hallway before I can identify them. It’s always like this. People scurry out of my way as if even a brush with my shadow is enough to transfer my family curse to them. There was never actually a real curse in play. Just a series of shitty decisions with fatal consequences. Not that they know or care about that.
In the kitchen, I find an unfamiliar person making biscuits. “Who are you?” He seems to know his way around the space, but I don’t remember hiring anyone. “Where is the cook? Where is . . .” I trail off, realizing I don’t remember the name of the most recent cook. They were good at their job and made really excellent bread, but I had only hired them a few weeks ago. Gods, what is their name?
“Jay quit.” The man finishes cutting the biscuits and places them on a metal tray. “Before they left, they hired me as their replacement.”
I stare at him for several beats. “You have to know that’s not the usual sequence of events.” Though I don’t know if there is a normal sequence of events these days. I’ve been hemorrhaging staff for years, barely able to retain enough people on the payroll to keep this place running. Jay isn’t the first cook to disappear without a word, but they are the first to hire a replacement before they did.
“It’s a job.” He shrugs. “I’m aware of the rumors around you and this place, but Jay said this job comes with pay, room, and board. And that the pay was good.”
My father had a firm belief that everything was up for negotiation, and he seemed to enjoy haggling with the staff about their wages. I don’t have the luxury. I study this man. He’s on the lean side, a good head and shoulders shorter than me, and his skin has more of a blue tinge to it than purple. Nothing about his appearance tells me anything useful.
“What did Jay tell you the wages are?”
He rattles off a number that has me gritting my teeth. It’s nearly double what I actually paid Jay. At this point, though, the new cook has me over a barrel whether he knows it or not. I drag my hand over my face. My father will be rolling in the grave over what I say next, but I wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for his poor choices, so fuck him. “If you stay past the first month, I’ll double them.”
He raises his brows and shifts his wings restlessly. “The initial wages are already borderline robbery.”
“True, but that won’t stop you from taking them, or taking the raise after a month.” If he stays that long.
He runs his hand through his short black hair. “I’m not as superstitious as the rest of our people. If the pay is good and no one fucks with me, I’m more than happy to stay in the kitchen and collect my income.”
“That’s very enlightened of you.”
He shrugs again. “No, not really. Anyone with a little bit of brainpower would realize that if there is a curse, it only affects you and your family. You’re not looking to marry a lowly cook, so I should be in no danger.”
I don’t know if I should be depressed or relieved, but at this point, I’m out of options. “I’ll need dinner prepared for me and my . . .” I’m not sure what to call Grace. She’s a guest, but a guest who stays for seven years is practically a resident. I barely know the woman, so calling her my partner or anything more intimate doesn’t make sense or feel right. “Lady,” I finally finish awkwardly.
“I already started. Dinner will be served in an hour.” He turns back to the oven, then glances over his shoulder at me. “My name is Silas by the way.”
I nod and leave the kitchen as quickly as possible. It seems like every time I turn around, something else is going wrong. I’m flying through a storm, getting buffeted back and forth by unexpected winds, certain to be struck by lightning at any moment. There’s only one way to fix this, and I don’t know if I’m up to the task.