Page 56 of Unleashing Chaos

“So, where are you taking me?” he asks, looking down at me with a curious smile on his face.

“Uh-uh. I’m not telling you. It’s a surprise. You could threaten me with one of Dex’s never-ending speeches about the importance of demons and angels in the human realm, and I still wouldn’t tell you.”

Jace’s forehead crinkles. “Dex?”

“You’ve never heard of Dex? Iudex?”

His features wrinkle more with confusion. “I don’t know who that is.”

“She’s the most powerful being in all the universe. She judges all angels and demons when we step out of line and is the one who grants us entrance to the In-Between for eternity when we’re ready to no longer exist in this state or banishes us to the Perpetual Torment if she deems us unworthy of existing any longer.”

“You mentioned that earlier. It’s interesting that you can choose when to no longer exist. What if you just want to live forever?”

I give him a sad smile as memories of my grandparents and old friends flash through my head. “Every lifeforce eventually craves rest. My father wasn’t the first to rule this realm. And his rival Angelo wasn’t the first to rule Pax. Lucifer, Lilith, Hades, Beelzebub, they have all chosen to go to the In-Between. The way it’s been described to me is something beyond peace. It’s perfection.”

“All of those demons, they were . . .”

I chuckle when I recognize the fear in his eyes. Those are scary names in the human realm. “They were all my grandparents and their parents and so on.”

Silence stretches between us for a moment before Jace takes a deep breath. “And Dex has a tendency to prattle on, I take it.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” I say.

“Torturous,” he murmurs, wrapping his fingers with mine and swinging our arms between us as we walk.

The gesture is so natural, so smooth, that it nearly takes my breath away. I need to calm down; the theatrics of this are getting to me a bit. Because the truth remains; this is all for show. When we return to the human realm, things will go back to normal. No more kisses on the cheek or little stolen touches. We’ll return to amicable roommates who happen to peep at each other while satisfying our own needs.

I nod toward the giant structure in front of us. “We’re here,” I announce, forcing myself away from my thoughts.

The pyramid covered in mirrors is unlike anything else in Infernis—a building clear as day and yet not. It reflects the midday sky and surrounding structures, blending in with the motif my father prefers while remaining unique.

Jace cranes his neck and shields the bright sun with his hand. “What is this place? It’s not a tomb of dead demon rulers, is it?”

I snort and bump him with my hip. “Absolutely not. I won’t take you there until our fifth date. Come on.”

Keeping hold of his hand, I lead him through the revolving doors and into the lobby of the pyramid. An imp sits at the welcome desk, and she smiles brightly, her white, pointed teeth sparkling in the midmorning light.

She rushes out from around the desk and curtsies deeply, her tail swishing around her. “Your Highness, Princess Desideria, welcome to L’Arte del Peccato. We are so thrilled you’ve decided to grace us with your presence today, and that you’ve brought Mr. Wilder with you.”

“Please, there’s no need for all the formalities.” I check her name tag. “Sila. Thank you for being here and keeping this place running; I can’t wait to show Jace everything it has to offer.”

She beams and directs us into the first exhibit. “Enjoy yourselves. Please know the pyramid is empty besides you and the artists and will remain so until you are finished with your visit. Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you.”

As we walk toward the first exhibit, Jace looks down at me in wonder. “L’Arte del Peccato? The Art of . . . ?”

I grin and push open the red door. “The Art of the Sin. First up, Wrath.”

A large demon with tusks and gray skin bows as we enter and points us to the center of the room. We walk up to the peak of a small hill, illuminated by a single light. The space is a void with black walls, and even the sound of our footsteps vanishes. When we’re in place, a single drumbeat fills the room. It grows louder and louder, a battle cry. The demon sweeps his hands in front of him and a splatter of red runs across the walls, and he goes to work. As if he is conducting a symphony, the demon paints a picture of a battlefield. Soldiers lie lifeless on the ground. Occisor demons with massive, bulky frames dressed in armor wield their weapons, blood dripping from the blades.

Jace sits on the top of the hill, his eyes wide and mouth open. “It’s digital art,” he says.

I sit beside him. “It is.”

“But how does he control the color with just his hands? And the lines are so precise.”

“It’s similar to virtual reality. The cuff on his wrist is programmed to respond to certain movements. He can change the colors by just pointing a finger.”

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