Page 89 of Cathmoir's Sons

LAW

There are places I didn’t think my Path would lead me. Back to Hell within a week is one of them.

I also didn’t think I’d be bringing quite so many people with me.

A quick trip to Thistlemist, evidently anticipated by the sandy-haired Seer, was only supposed to result in a message to DemonDaddy via his blood relative.

Instead, it results in two of Princess Teddy’s husbands accompanying us to Hell. Teddy herself has to be dissuaded by her third husband, who claims that three-on-one are unfair odds and surely Teddy won’t leave him to wrangle their brood alone?

I pay attention to how he manages his wife, anticipating I will have to manage my own adventurous mate one day. He has a light touch. No yelling. No demands. Simple observations that make it clear to his wife that he needs her.

It’s a masterclass in mate-management.

He winks at me after Teddy hugs him and reassures him she won’t leave him alone with the Terror Trio. Did he use a differenttechnique when they had fewer children? I’ll have to ask him when we get a moment alone.

Since I’m now somehow responsible for half of Thistlemist’s (in)famous quaternion, including the heir apparent, I summon Mags and Dex. They can babysit.

Luca doesn’t need to do his card trick because the Water mage, Gabe, has an all-access ticket to Hell. We circle him as he pricks his finger and writes a glyph on a scrap of paper with his blood. The Thistlemist prince reaches into our circle and lights the paper with a tap of his finger. As it burns, I feel a strange tugging in my gut, like gravity has shifted. Then I’m choking as sulfur fills my lungs.

Gabe grabs the back of my neck. I’m on the verge of fighting him off when he blows into my mouth. My lungs clear and I draw a deep breath.

Gabe gives Luca, Mags, and Dex the same treatment. We stand panting, looking around at the hellscape. I gave Gabe the best description I could of what I smelled when I lost Kimberly Cavalo-Darling’s trail in Faery: the rotten egg reek of sulfur overlaid by a burnt rubber tang. Gabe thought the second scent might be the burning trees of Olt. He’s brought us to the edge of a forest my mind can’t take in. It stretches away from us in a bizarre bowl, trees curving upwards to hang from the sky, their roots clinging to sooty clouds. Some are burnt black. Others are shrouded in crackling flame. Veils of smoke and cinders swirl between the trees, obscuring the concave horizon.

Mags shifts into his Cait form, which I didn’t realize was possible in Hell. He lifts his muzzle and chuffs. Both Mags and Dex know Kimberly’s scent from a cloak Lords provided. I scent in the direction Mags is pointing. It takes me several breaths to find it amongst the other scents of Hell, but finally I catch the overly-sweet whiff of peony.

That’s our prey.

I nod to Mags. Dex and Luca shift and fall in behind Mags. I turn to the Water mage and Thistlemist prince. “We move fast on a hunt.” I swallow in horror at what I’m about to offer. “Do you want to ... ride to keep up?”

Gabe flushes. It’s hard to tell in Hell’s eerie, shifting, sunless light, but the Water mage has high cheekbones in a face almost as feline as a Cait’s and the skin over those high cheekbones mottles. He shakes his head. “I’ll fly us.”

The Thistlemist prince grumbles. “I’d almost rather ride.”

Gabe shakes his head at his husband. “I’ll go slow.”

“You said thatlasttime.”

Since I am still somewhat disconcerted by flying with my mate, I can sympathize. I offer the prince my hand. “I don’t mind you riding.”

I do but it’s not politic to renege on my offer, so I’ll endure.

The Water mage steps between me and the prince. “Sorry, the only people Dar rides are me and Teddy. We’ll keep up. Don’t worry about us. Jou’s on the way. He’ll catch up to us.”

Not wanting to cross whatever strange boundary the Water mage has just defined, I nod and drop onto my paws. I trot off after my brother and cousins.

Mags leads us on a twisting path through the trees, avoiding the ones that are actually on fire. The cinder-littered ground singes my paws and I’m reminded of what Kellan said about being physically in Hell. We need to be careful here. I do not want to die in Hell.

I have far too much to live for.

Mags stops frequently to scent. I catch up to him and bump his shoulder reassuringly. The human’s floral fragrance is hard to find among the other smells of Hell, many of them overpowering and foul. Some of the trees give off a dark note of pitch as they burn. Others an acrid tang that stings my sinuses. Finding that faint sweet thread is hard. But I trust Mags. Onlythe Cù-Sìth are better trackers and I wouldn’t follow one of the high fae dogs for all the gold in Thistlemist.

Mags turns—direction is impossible in this place, but it’shigherinto the curve of the forest—and I follow him around a stand of flaming trees.

I scent leather and hot spices before I see the horns. Baron Ash waits for us just beyond the fiery copse. He’s barefoot and bare-chested. The glyphs inscribed into his skin flare and shimmer in Hell’s strange light. He leans on a sickle that’s taller than his seven feet, the wicked blade curving back over his shoulder. His recurved horns spread almost as wide as he is tall, a spinning ring of neon blue light nestled among the black spines. Two demonesses stand behind him. One sports a bright orange mohawk and carries a wavy blade in each clawed hand. The other’s small and slender, barefoot like the Baron, wearing just a plain green tunic. Her hair and skin are jet black. White eyes glow like pearls against the uniform onyx of her skin.

Jou nods at us, the motion unimpeded by his huge rack of horns. “Cousin. Prince. Prince. Spare. Fodder. Fodder. Welcome to Hell. I’ll be your tour guide of Olt today. This is my sister Zippy.” He tips his head toward the orange mohawked demoness. “And she’s not here, if anyone asks, but this is Ercie.”

The unassuming demoness grins, her smile splitting white and wide from ear to ear, filled with more fangs than a shark’s. Not so unassuming after all.

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