Oftentimes, demons took great pains to hide their perimeter wards so that potential invaders couldn’t find and destroy them. That depended on the type of ward, however. Weaker wards would be broken by simply disrupting them. Some could be disrupted, but the maker of the ward would be immediately aware. Others were too strong to be disturbed at all, and the creator would leave them proudly on display as a sign of their power and a warning to others that they were a fearsome enemy.
Unsurprisingly, this proved to be the case with Murmur.
As Raum approached the territory line, he noticed small stone towers spread periodically around the perimeter. Hellfire beacons burned at the tops, like Murmur wanted others to see exactly where his territory began so they wouldn’t dare stray upon it.
Raum’s avian gaze zeroed in on the closest tower, and he set a course for it. After several more minutes of flying, he tucked his wings in and swooped toward the tower below.
He perched atop a dead tree, letting out a caw to add credibility to his crow act. There were beasts and bugs in Hell nearly identical to those on Earth—vultures, mosquitos, cockroaches, etcetera—and Raum’s crow had always made an excellent disguise for that reason.
Scanning the apparently deserted area, Raum alighted and landed atop the stone tower. The hellfire torch was hot enough here to feel the heat on his feathers. Another few feet and he’d cross into Murmur’s territory.
Still, no one appeared that he could see, and he figured this was the best chance he was going to get to look at the ward up close.
Swooping again, he landed on the edge of the narrow windowsill. The entrance was barred with a sturdy door reinforced with metal bars, but the windows were high and too small for anyone to fit through, so they were open. Too small for anyone but a bird, that was.
Stooping his head, he slipped forward through the slit in the stone, all his instincts hating having his body confined to the narrow space. Once inside, he jumped down to the floor with a couple flaps to slow his descent. He looked up and studied the ward before him, drawn in blood on the flat wall at the back of the room.
It was necromancy, no doubt about it. In the center of the sigil, various items were suspended with string from the ceiling. There were bones of various shapes and sizes, a shriveled gargoyle head, an enormous dried heart from some unidentifiable monster, a few dried underworld plants, and—he shuddered—the amputated wings and feet of a crow.
He didn’t know for sure how the ward functioned, but he could guess. A breach would likely notify Murmur, who would send his army of souls out to attack with a vengeance. It was possible to draw wards that prevented anyone from crossing—like the ones they kept around their apartment on Earth—but it took a lot of power and simply wasn’t practical for a territory this size.
Raum wasn’t going to risk bypassing the ward and making a break for the castle, because he was pretty sure he’d end up regretting it within a very short time. That meant he needed a disguise. Not just a physical disguise—a magical one.
Cursing, which came out as an indignant squawk, he flew back to the narrow windowsill, squished his body through, and popped out the other side, immediately taking flight to perch on the tree branch he’d chosen before.
He checked the land and still saw no sign of life. But that didn’t mean no one was there. For all he knew, a whole pile of Murmur’s souls had gathered and were watching him now.
Could they go completely invisible? Or would there always be a faint outline of their forms, as there was when they swirled at Murmur’s feet? Raum didn’t know, and it bothered him.
Shaking off a shudder, he took to the skies with a caw, heading back towards the hideout with a detour along the way in case he was followed.
He knew what they needed to make it past the wards. He also knew what Sunshine was going to say. Neither of them were going to be happy about it, but it had to be done to get that fucking book.
Despite the undeniable thrill he felt at the coming heist, he already regretted getting involved in this. Not that he’d had a choice, thanks to Sunshine and her blackmail.
When she turned that sweet smile on him, it was easy—easy and tempting—to soften toward her. She exuded kindness and warmth. She was like a crackling fire on a cold winter night. A hot bath for aching limbs. A lungful of mountain air after city pollution. Everything about her was inviting.
But if she was a fire, she was the one that would burn his house down. If she was fresh air, she was laced with toxic gas. Everything appealing about her was a lie, and he wasn’t going to forget it.
* * *
After a rigorous beatingwith a tree branch, Sunshine carried the last of the furs back to the cot and draped it over the others. Stepping back, she planted her hands on her hips and surveyed a job well done.
Though she didn’t want to imagine what sort of creature had been skinned to make those silky furs, she would admit they were lovely. And now that the dust was beaten out of them, they were much more comfortable for sleeping. The bed looked almost inviting now.
But despite how long it had been since she last slept, she wasn’t tired. She was restless. She didn’t like thinking about Raum out there alone.
As she spun around and took in the rest of the dark cave, she was hit with the sudden urge to clean. It would be nice to keep her hands busy so she wouldn’t worry about the fact that she was currently in Hell, by herself, putting her life in the hands of a demon that likely wanted to kill her.Worryingabout a demon that likely wanted to kill her.
After a thorough search of the house, she was pleased to discover a twig broom tucked in a recess of the cave wall. She pictured Raum sweeping his hoard cave and smiled to herself.
Throwing the door and windows wide, she got busy sweeping, starting at the back of the cave around the treasure pile and working the dirt toward the door and eventually outside.
When the fire in the hearth started to die, she ventured a little further out—though always within sight of the door—and collected more fallen branches, of which there were plenty since every tree here seemed to be dead. She wondered if they somehow grew dead, or if something had come through and killed all the life in what had once been a vibrant forest.
Whatever the origins of underworld trees, they provided excellent firewood, and Sunshine soon returned to the cave with an armful of branches, setting them in a neat pile beside the hearth to be used as needed.
Her urge to tidy still not satisfied, she sought another task. Back in the same recess where she’d found the broom, she also discovered several rags, so she set about dusting the table and chairs and other surfaces.
