Page 25 of Give a Devil his Due
“Anyway, let’s keep moving before another wave rocks this tunnel and drops it on our heads.” Shivering, I take the first step. “I really don’t want to be buried alive here.”
“The human is right.” Beelzebub, speaking for the first time in a while, glances at my father. That’s one thing I like about him. He never feels the need to fill the silence with useless words. When he does say something, however, I’ve noticed everyone pays attention.
Including Satanael.
“Should the human take your place in Hell, then?” Leave it to my father to find any way he can to insult people. And he does it without even trying, I swear. He’s natural at it.
“Perhaps, although I do believe he is more needed here.” Beelzebub doesn’t take the bait.
Good for him.
With a grunt, Satanael stomps forward, his lips pursed like he is sucking on a lemon. I shuffle behind, dragging my tired legs and rubbing my sore hipbone like a masochist. Each press of my fingers numbs my whole side to the juncture where my thigh is attached to my pelvis. Meanwhile, I observe Satanael.
Somehow I missed how tense his shoulders are, and how his spine is ramrod straight. His fists keep clenching and unclenching at his sides, too—a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed now that I’m focused on him He doesn’t walk ahead of me, either. No, he is prowling like a predator who just caught the scent of his prey and is following it with single-minded focus. But it’s not just the search that has him stiff like he has a stick up his ass. My father is arrogance personified on the best of days, but the way he holds himself, there is more to it than that. It hits me like a rock over my head.
My stomach drops to my feet.
Satanael is hiding something.
Eric
Unease rides my ass, but I do my best not to show it in front of Helena. No one can convince me that the concrete walls cracking and encasing us inside this tunnel is from natural causes. My mate mentioned it when we stopped to rest, and I agreed with her words.
Something feels off.
The terminal chases out the darkness, its flickering lights piercing the shadows and sending them away. Helena speeds toward it like a moth lured by a flame, and I stay in step with her. Raphael glides faster, too, his shoulders swinging and full of determination. Satanael messed with the poor pricks head earlier, and although he is back to his old self, I see him glancing sideways at my mate like he expects her to do something.
Or like he is afraid of her.
But that’s preposterous.
“We can take the stairs to the top at this terminal and follow the trail above ground.” Satanael turns his head at my comment. “Unless you have to turn into a mole to sense whatever we are in search of?” His glower is my reward.
I grin at him.
Satanael flicks his eyes at his daughter, thinks better of whatever is going through his head, and keeps his mouth shut. I’ll be damned. The King of Wrath is picking his battles. Maybe Hell will freeze over soon, an expression I’ve heard many humans say.
“Actually, I’d rather we continue through the tunnel.” Helena looks from me to Raphael. “I don’t want to miss any creatures that might still lurk here and can corner us when we eventually have to come back down. Unless you think the roof might not hold.”
Since no one says otherwise, we pass the brightly lit station with a single glance and plunge back into darkness, trotting over the rail tracks. Hiking the strap of my backpack higher on my shoulder, I reach for Helena’s hand, lacing our fingers together. She gives me a thin smile but offers a reassuring squeeze.
“At least we are not the only dumbasses who have walked here.” She points at the far right wall and the scribbled graffiti on it.
The faded paint swirls into elaborate circles that overlap one another with a few sharp jutted points at the edges. Absently, I trace them with my eyes as we move by them, my neck straining as I attempt to keep them in sight long after.
“They are not that interesting,” Hel grumbles under her breath, and I drag my gaze away from the scribbles.
“It made me think—” I start, but as always, Colt has to interject his stupidity into everything.
“That’s the problem.” His fingers snap with a dull echo. “I wondered what your problem was, but there you have it. You were actually thinking.”
Raphael snorts but sobers fast when I stare at him flatly.
“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted.” Casting a cursory glance at the narrow path and low railing on both sides, I zero in on Satanael’s furrowed brow. “Some of these doors must open despite the chains and locks on them. Whoever painted that, I’m sure they didn’t waltz through the security of the metro station without blinking an eye.”
“Why do you say that?” Beelzebub, always the one wanting to be prepared for anything, slides closer to the railing. “It could’ve been painted after the attacks on the city. We haven’t found all the humans hiding like rats all over.”
“That was painted long before the attack. It’s too faded.”
