Page 198 of Infernium

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FARRYN

Iwriggled my arm, trying to break loose from Vaszhago’s unyielding grip. “Let me go! I’m not leaving him here!”

The boy clung to the demon’s leg, in a futile attempt to bite through the shields of his suit.

“You will only complicate things and make it harder for him to fight Claudius.”

“Vaszhago, I am the Met’Lazan. It’s me!”

He finally came to a stop, but didn’t bother to release my arm. “Do you remember the Omni? Can you speak it?”

“No, but–”

“Then, until you do, you put him at risk.” He dragged me farther down the hallway, away from the room we’d escaped. Still clutching my arm, he paused in front of a long stretch of gray wall and pulled an object from his tabard. Summoning chalk.

“No. No!” I yanked and squirmed and even gnawed at his damn bracers, but the stubborn asshole refused to release me. “I’m not leaving this labyrinth without Jericho!”

Ignoring me, he one-handedly drew an awful circle on the wall, still keeping me imprisoned against him, and wrote Kezhurah’s name in the center of it. After stuffing the chalk back into his tabard, he placed his free hand there.

The boy reached up, hanging from it, and bit at his forearm, but it didn’t seem to faze Vaszhago, at all. The wall wavered, as if the circle was filled with smoke, and I caught just a hint of translucent barrier shimmering in the light of a lantern somewhere behind us. Kezhurah stepped through and frowned, looking around where we stood.

A screeching sound drew my attention to the other side of Vaszhago, and I let out an exasperated groan when the corridor filled with Mortunath. One hard yank took me through the invisible barrier, which cast a tickle over my skin as we breached it, and Vaszhago finally released his grip once we were on the other side.

I looked around, mentally noting a slight familiarity to the room, even though I’d never personally been there.

“My room.” Vaszhago said, confirming my guess.

The healer approached me, and the boy scampered around Vaszhago, smashing into my hipbone as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

Scared of her?

“You look famished. And exhausted. I will make up a quick concoction for you.” Her eyes scanned over me and as she reached out a hand toward me, Vaszhago swiped it up before she made contact.

In a strange gesture, he ran his thumb over her palm then kissed it, and at the subtle nudge of my hip, I frowned, scooting to move behind him, as he apparently wanted.

When she turned away, crossing the room for her satchel at the far side of Vaszhago’s bed, the demon leaned into me. “Something isn’t right,” he whispered, as if he didn’t want Kezhurah to hear him.

I watched as his bed coverings turned pink before my eyes and frowned.

“The labyrinth,” he murmured. “It’s using my memories to create what it thinks is familiar to me. I questioned whether my bedding was pink, and it turned the bedding pink.”

“Then, this isn’t real,” I whispered. “It’s just another door.”

“I do not believe there is an exit to the labyrinth without destroying Letifer’s heart. I’m going to distract her. Head for the door and find somewhere safe to hide.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of black fluid. “Jericho retrieved this elixir from the black witch, Venefica. According to him, it puts you in a death-like state, which would release you of the unbound soul. But you would remain that way until the curse is broken.” His face turned grim. “The curse can only be broken by handing Letifer’s heart over to Venefica as payment. But should you find yourself in a hopeless situation in which we cannot escape this place …” He curled my fingers around the vial. “Your mind will not suffer whatever torment is inflicted upon you.”

I couldn’t imagine what it must have taken for Jericho to even consider something like that. As malevolent as the unbound soul might’ve been, it was small potatoes compared to the evil I’d seen up until that point. With a nod, I tucked the vial into the pocket of my nightgown. “So, I find a safe place. What’s the plan after that?”

“We need to destroy Letifer’s heart. So, do not take that elixir unlessabsolutelynecessary. Or you will remain in a death-like state.”

Jesus. Why even give it to me? With the boy’s hand in mine, I edged toward the door.

“Farryn?” Before I reached the handle, Kezhurah turned around, sipping something from a tiny black jar. She stared down at the bedding and ran her hand over the surface, before her gaze fell on Vaszhago, then on me and the boy.

Vaszhago threw out his hand and frowned, then thrusted it out again, palm out.

Kezhurah chuckled and shook her head, as she held up the small jar she’d just sipped. “I am immune to you, demon.”

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