Dark Skye (Immortals After Dark #15)(46)

“Not to mention Omort’s court,” she said. “I can never unsee the things I witnessed there.”

“I wish that I could have spared you that,” he said honestly.

“You could have spared me some. Last year when you set that trap for me, I’d been in Louisiana to retrieve my sister, so she could take her dose of morsus. She was dying. Because of you, I had to flee, getting completely turned around in a strange city. I was lost and frantic. Because of you, I couldn’t rescue Sabine. When the portal door shut on your leg, I’m sure you were suitably pissed on your side. On my side, I kicked your leg around, cursing it. Until I heard Omort from the shadows—in my room—grating, ‘And you dare return without her.’?” She visibly shuddered. “I’ve never been closer to death than I was then. Never. So thanks, Thronos.”

“I couldn’t have known that.” One year ago, she’d almost been murdered by her brother. The idea of Melanthe dying while Thronos was helpless to protect her . . .

Would he have sensed the loss, even across worlds?

She regarded his face. “I’ve tried to live my life. And you jeopardized it. It’s a miracle that I’ve survived this long. Speaking of which . . .” She crossed to the burial mound, reaching for something. She hauled a battered sword out from the bottom. A few bones and skulls tumbled down like a mini rock slide.

She laid the sword flat over one of her shoulders. “You ready?”

He nodded, and they set out once more, his thoughts in turmoil. Never been closer to death.

Because of him. No, he couldn’t have predicted what his actions might bring about—because it’d never occurred to him that Melanthe was a prisoner of Omort.

Had he assumed the worst about her in every instance?

Back at the fork, they chose the other direction. The path began dividing regularly, some routes leading down, some up, connecting to landings or more caverns. Along the landings were recesses of differing sizes.

“I can’t believe we’re in a subterranean demon den,” she murmured. She didn’t sound unnerved by this, more intrigued—as if the two of them were on a hell safari.

His instinct continually urged him to take the higher path, but he didn’t think there’d be an entry point at the top of this lair, so he tried to keep them on one level.

The noise and scents grew into a tumult as they neared the demon encampment, situated in one of those larger caverns. Cautiously they found a vantage on a raised landing, where he and Melanthe could take stock of most of the camp. It was occupied by dozens of different types of demons: fire, ice, pus, storm, shadow, pathos, and more. All appeared to be returning from that battle.

Thronos found it strange that members of such varied demonarchies were working together. Was the other army as diverse?

Here, warriors regenerated from injuries, some regrowing flesh, some entire limbs. Others ate, drank, or whored. Thirty or so harried demonesses serviced the males, with lines forming.

And my mate thinks me related to these brutes? He ground his teeth at the thought, turning away from the iniquitous scenes.

Melanthe, however, appeared quite comfortable with what she was witnessing. And she seemed to be listening for something.

“Come, sorceress,” he muttered. “I scent an exit nearby.” At last, a way out of this literal hellhole.

She didn’t follow him. “Just a minute. I’ve been reading their minds, getting the lay of the land.”

He hesitated. “And?”

“This war has been going on since before even the oldest demons were born, so thousands of years. Each night, the armies march out to do battle. They break each morning because the dragons fly from their hive to come scavenge the plateau. If the demons are returning now, I guess dawn happened while we were down here?”

“It must have. Those dragons on the mount were probably waiting to feed on the fallen.” As if they’d been trained. Crafty beasts. It was a wonder there were any bodies in that burial mound at all.

“The dragons have been abnormally hostile of late,” Melanthe continued. “The demons fear the last female has died, leaving a pack of aggressive killer males. It’s only a matter of time before they attack the demons. Oh, oh, this just in . . . We’re in a lair called Inferno. It’s protected by that moat of lava outside and is home to the Infernals. They fight the Deep Place warriors, also known as the Abysmals. Deep Place is equally difficult to breach. There’s only one entrance, and you have to navigate a maze of ruins to reach it.”

“What are they fighting over?”

“Portals. The Infernals have the First Gate of Hell and the Second Key. But the Abysmals have the Second Gate and the First Key. In other words, they each have a gate of hell and a key that doesn’t work on their own portal. Each side fights to protect its portal and to seize the other’s key. Both armies are desperate to leave, but none can teleport here. They have no idea how the keys and portals got mixed up. Some believe the eternal war is a punishment for something.”

“A portal is within this lair? With your power, could you use it without a key?”

She shook her head. “If it’s locked, it’s been barred for a reason. Against anyone.”

“So we could take a key from here to use with the Abysmals’ portal?” And if they managed to make it out of Inferno alive, would he drag her into Deep Place as well?