Page 31 of Immortal Throne

“She’s been through a lot,” Chupey added. “Maybe I should just show her to her room and let her rest a bit. We can have a tour another time.”

“No!” The word snapped from me. I wanted to see more. I needed to. “This is a part of myself I’ve waited forever to know about. I’m fine. Just tired.”

It was the understatement of the century, and from the looks of disbelief on both their faces, they knew I was full of it too.

As strong as I liked to think I was, the weight of everything was finally catching up to me, and I was beyond overwhelmed. But I was also stubborn as hell. “Zane, tell me more about my father. And this place—it’s huge. I want to see it all.”

Chupey’s disapproving growl rumbled beside me, but I ignored it.

“I’ll rest later,” I told him.

“A quick tour then, Zane. The main rooms only,” the demon dog instructed. “That’s it.”

Zane nodded and strolled ahead, leading us out of the throne room and into an equally as grand space with a dining table as long as a tennis court with seating for at least fifty guests.

Did they have parties down here? It was hard to imagine a bunch of horned and spikey demon creatures sitting down for tea or having polite conversation.

“You know…” Chupey began as Zane led us into a grand foyer with a peaked ceiling and black crystal chandelier, “Demons are just a different supernatural type really. At least that’s how we see it. We don’t collect damned souls or feed on the sinful or anything like that.”

I jerked my head his way. “Can you read my mind or something?”

He snorted. “No, but I’ve lived with you long enough to guess what you’re thinking.”

Uh huh. I’m not sure if I believed that.

“He’s right,” Zane answered. “We live in this realm because we have to. Our bodies can’t stay in the living world too long. But we lead normal lives considering.”

“So all the torture and punishments for our living sins were always just stories?” I asked. “What about the fire and brimstone?”

Zane chuckled, his thick shoulders bouncing. “Stories? Those are just a typical Tuesday night!”

Unsure if he was joking or not, I let out a nervous laugh and glanced at Chupey. But his expression wasn’t reassuring.

This place was not what I was expecting. At all.

Peering up the beautiful black marble staircase, I asked, “Are we going upstairs next?”

Zane shook his head. “Not yet. There’s one more thing I want to show you.” He tilted his spear toward a small alcove beside the steps.

“What is it?” But as I strode over, I got my answer. A massive oil painting hung against the wall—at least ten feet tall—of a man wearing polished black armor. For some reason, my next breath froze in my chest. Surprisingly, it wasn’t because of the three-eyed skull in his hand or the amount of blood splattered across his medieval inspired outfit.

No, it was because of the way his dark eyes peered down at me. As if he could see me and my very presence would magically fill him with life so he could step right off the canvas. The details were lifelike—disturbingly so—and as I scanned his shoulder-length hair and thin face, I recognized similar features there too. The shape of his nose, high cheekbones, and peaked hairline. The most striking one was in the quirked smile he wore.

Just like Zane had said.

I whirled around on the demon guard. “Wait. Is this—Is this my dad?”

He was grinning again, loving that I had figured it out. “Yes, it is.”

Stepping closer to the portrait, my heart beat a little faster. Really, I was staring at a stranger; I’d never met this man in my life, yet he felt familiar, like a part of myself recognized him.

It was unnerving.

“See? You look like him,” Zane said. “Do you see it now?”

A little, yeah. But he definitely looked more like aLuciferthan I did.

“How…did he die?” I started carefully. It was a question I’d been wondering but was too afraid to ask.

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