Page 61 of Cathmoir's Sons

If I knew I’d get to hold my mate, I’d have volunteered for this field trip to Hell instead of being conscripted by my brother. His mind suddenly opened to me, even though we’re both in our skin, yanking me off Kimberly Cavalo-Darling’s trail and toLas Vegas, if my nose didn’t betray me. Las Vegas to Hell is an easy leap under any circumstances, but Luca made the slide between planes as effortless as stepping into Faery.

I haven’t been to Hell before; even holding my mate is not enough of an inducement to come back. My guts have turned to liquid and are sloshing uncomfortably. My balance is off; I feel drunk even though my mind is clear. The stink of the outside Hellscape is nearly unbearable, although once we get inside the demon’s towering home, Ash Hill, the smell dissipates.

When the demon ushers us through a flaming, circular gate into a garden, the outside reek is replaced by the sweeter smell of jasmine and a ripe fruit I have no name for.

The sky outside was cloudy but bright, split by streaks of lightning. The sky over the garden, above the circling wall that must be thirty feet high, is dark, cloudless, and lit by three moons. The garden is huge, much bigger than the tower it’s ostensibly inside of, laid out with glimmering, crushed shell paths, green lawns, beds of flowers that gleam like crystal, arbors entwined with flowering jasmine, and rows of trees, heavy with darkly gleaming fruit.

Kellan walks through the garden as though she knows where she’s going. The demon peels off to the right and waves us onward.

In the center of the garden, there’s a large, circular pond, edged by a translucent white wall the height of a bench. A heavily pregnant woman, sitting on the wall, jumps up when she sees us. Kellan greets her warmly and they clasp each other for a long hug, the woman’s diaphanous gown fluttering around Kellan in a breeze I don’t feel.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get more time to catch up at Carrie’s singing-off,” Kellan says to the woman.

The woman waves that away and pulls Kellan to the edge of the pond. They sit together on the low wall while Luca and I look at each other uncertainly.

“I’m still in shock,” the woman says.

On second look, she might not be a woman. Small, spiral horns poke up out her waist-length, mahogany hair. Her horns are almost hidden under strands of gold and winking gems, but they’re definitely horns. Her smile reveals fangs smaller than the demon’s but they look sharper than mine. Her gown floats and shifts over her slender body and swollen belly in a way that fabric doesn’t move, responding to shifts and eddies in the air that I don’t feel.

Whatever she is, she’s not a mortal witch.

“I know,” Kellan commiserates. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

“The singing-off was beautiful. I’m so glad you and Jane invited me. It’s the first I’ve been to since ... well, since everything.”

Kellan nods as though she understands completely. “It was very special to have you and Jou’s sisters there. You didn’t want to come to the memorial service? You and the three cutest babies in Hell would have been welcome.”

The demoness shakes her head. “It’s too strange to be at Bevington now that I’m—” She waves a black-clawed hand at her body vaguely. “And Jou is acting crazier than usual when it comes to me being in crowds.”

She lifts her voice so it carries. A deep, demonic snort answers from the fruit trees behind us.

Kellan turns her head to pin me with a bright glare. “I know how that goes.” She waves Luca and me closer. “Zee, may I present the princes of the Cait Sidhe, Lucas and Lawson? Luca, Law, this is Tsara Faa D’Asmodei, Baroness Ash.”

The demoness rises to her feet and holds out her hand. Luca shakes first and I follow.

“Please call me Tsara,” the demoness says, pronouncing her name “Zara,” although I have no doubt of the royal root.

I bow to her. “I’ve heard you called the Once and Future Queen by a Squire of Ivywhile.”

She flashes her white fangs in a broad grin. “That was you. Ishouldsay thank you. I’ve learned in the years since that the Cait watched over me for a long time, keeping unfriendly eyes away when I was still coming into my power. But I’ve also found out that you turned the poor Squire’s horse pink.Pink. His beautiful horse. So no, I won’t say thank you. You’re a bad man.”

I grin back at her. “That I am.”

She folds her arms over the high mound of her belly. “You’re just like Jou: utterly unrepentant.”

“I resemble that remark,” the demon says, emerging from the trees carrying a long, obsidian trencher piled with fruit. He sets it down on the edge of the pond and sweeps his mate into his arms. He kisses her, flicking a long, red tongue over her lips before he lets her go. He rubs a taloned hand over her belly. “How are my babies?”

“The same as they were an hour ago when you left,” Tsara says tartly. “How aremybabies?”

The demon grimaces. “Fine.”

“You know I can smell it when you lie,” Tsara points out.

“There may have been a summoning,” Jou admits. “A small one.”

Kellan, sitting on the edge of the pond with her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, chortles.

“Demigod? Eldritch horror? Hound of freaking Tindalos?” Tsara asks, her tone sharp.

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