Page 148 of Anchor

The voice vibrated throughout me, and the man, whom I assumed was Hakim, stopped by the side of the long table to the left of the room, hands forward, his fingers spread wide and pressed against one another. He had grey hair that stood upright on his head like he’d been electrocuted—or maybe he’d styled it that way on purpose. He wore a simple black shirt and there were bones around both his wrists, together with a shitload of black leather ties. His eyes were clear, though, a cold blue that looked grey, and he was bulky, but not too much. He was tall, too—as tall as Bes who was behind me, keeping watch over Taland, as if he really thought Taland was capable of doing anything other than standing on his own right now.

“I was told you have something that the Devil will be interested in,” the man said, head slightly lowered as he looked us over—Seth, then me. He didn’t even glance behind us at the guards or Taland.

Seth turned to me.

“Yes, that’s correct. In exchange for Taland,” I said and pointed back, again, too scared of what I’d do, how fast I’d lose control if I looked at him in that condition.

“Taland Tivoux, who failed to deliver what he promised, then turned himself him, I’m told,” said Hakim, resting his hip against the chair. “Noble—yet incredibly stupid.”

It had nothing to do with you,I wanted to say, but bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood.

“However, we are currently the ones who lost in this exchange, and that is why you were given an audience with me.” He raised a hand toward me. “Go ahead. Show me what you think is worthy of my attention.”

Cassie’s warning was in my head though I hadn’t yet properly grasped the gravity of the situation. I raised my hands and they were shaking so badly—goddess, I hadn’t even noticed. Nobody moved or said a single thing for a moment until I pulled up the sleeve of my jacket to reveal the bracelet.

Then Taland tried to say something, but as soon as he opened his mouth, either Bes or the other guy grabbed him by the neck, I thought, and all he let out was a moan.

My eyes closed.

If I reacted now, I was as good as dead. And my magic was so eager to come out of me, to consumeeverythingin its path right now, that I focused on it.

It’s okay,I told myself.As good as over. Let’s calm down…

The spell to call forth light had become second nature to me by now, and so I whispered it with ease, without really thinking.

Even so, the magic that came out of my shaking hand nearly fucking blinded us all.

All the colors of the rainbow gathered in my hand, eager to obey my call. It was so powerful, the spell,morepowerful thanever before because my emotional state was overwhelming, and the magic always responded.

I saw nothing, heard nothing but the magic, and when it faded away after a second so that only the ball of light remained, I imagined the man would laugh at me and tell me,that’s it?! That’s all you got? Pathetic!

Then I imagined another scenario in which he’d throw us out and kill Taland, and my blood boiled.

I prepared myself, gritted my teeth, and accepted death right then and there. I fisted my hand, put out the light, and I expected laughter to ring in my ears.

Instead, when the buzzing in my head stopped and I focused on the room, I realized that nobody was laughing. In fact, nobody was making a single sound, and the man, Hakim, was looking at my hand like he was having trouble trusting his eyes.

But he did—he saw. And when our eyes locked, I could have sworn I sawhatredin them—raw hatred, which made me wonder, was this guy the Devil? Was he just introduced to us under that name to protect his identity or something?

Except the actual Devil was in the Tomb, and as crazy as it sounds, I soon saw him with my own eyes.

Hakim turned toward the darkness that covered the other half of the long room, raised his hands toward it and whispered words,threwthem like they were daggers.

The darkness began to let off.

It began to lift like a curtain, and it slowly revealed the other side that could have been a fucking mirror—the same table and the same furniture and the same flowers were there, too. Except two things were different: the bars on the far-right wall, and the two recliners across from one another close to the middle.

In the one facing us sat a woman with a book in her hands, watching me curiously. And across from her sat someone else,someone I couldn’t see the face of yet, only his hand over the armrest.

“That was quite impressive, Agent La Rouge. I’d like to see it again, if you don’t mind.”

The voice sent ice-cold shivers down the length of me, and a part of me insisted that I knew what was happening here, even though I didn’t. A part of me insisted that we were somehow looking into the Tomb right now, that this room was connected to it, that that cell that didn’t look like a cell at all was where the Devil was for real, yet we could see him. From a world away, we could hear him—and not just that.

I’d forgotten how to breathe completely when he stood up, and I expected an old man, someone with barely any hair, a face full of wrinkles.

But when he turned around with his hands in the pockets of his black pants, he was anything but.

Dark eyes—as dark as that magic that had kept him shielded from us until now. Hair more salt than pepper, perfectly combed behind his head. Barely any wrinkles on his pale skin, and his mustache had only greyed around the corners of his mouth. He was at least six feet and he wore fluffy black loafers and he wasreal-real-real.

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