Page 81 of Judge of Saints and Sinners

Focusing as hard as I could, I searched for the bond in my chest, for the connection to him that I'd severed so severely when I wanted to save my parents. It had to be there, but even now, as I sat on this cold, hard floor with nothing but silence around me, I felt nothing. Not a sliver of emotion. Not a hint of his raw devotion.

I had shattered him.

I had shattered us.

Fuck.

Tears ran down my face, collecting under my cheek against the tile floor. I didn't bother to wipe them away. Instead I just lay there, letting my misery drive me deeper into the dark until I could no longer tell if I was awake or asleep, alive or dead.

Nephesh was right. There was more to fate’s worth than death.

And I'd just surrendered to him to endure them all.

***

Nephesh

“You told your little bedmate that the flames that burned your brother were unique and damaging.”

My head lolled back, and I stared at the newest in a line of human questioners. This one appeared more scared of me than the last. I smiled. “So I did.”

“What does the fire have to do with his damage? Is it deadly for all demons or just you hybrids?”

I remained silent, watching, my mind so detached at this point that I didn't even acknowledge the dramatic number of injuries that I’d procured in the however many days I’d been here since Justine left.

I had endured far worse injuries in my life and never uttered a word. Everything they might have heard between Justine and me in this cell was common enough knowledge if you knew where to look. Even this question, about the fucking hellfire that bloomed at Tartarus, was noted in a variety of texts. But no, it only burned the damned. Typically we could walk through hellfire without any issues. The day that my brother was burned was a unique occasion, or so I’d been told. I’d been locked away in a cave after Anna died and had missed the battle itself.

But one of the darkest creatures there had tried to escape. The hellfire had done its job and claimed the soul. But as my father drove him back into his jail, Elon’s face was not saved.

And our magic, its continued decline, meant that he was left with a body full of scars and a habit of covering himself with a variety of wraps. He looked, as Arafel’s human mate had said, like some type of mummy.

We never discussed it, Elon and me. Since fire was a source of power for me, if I had been at my strongest, I may have been able to heal him.

But now, we did not have the power to waste. It took each of us every day to keep the Underworld functioning as it was. Briefly I wondered if our time together here had fostered any more magical impulses in my realm.

I hoped so, since Justine had made the choice to join the Drude. I was royally fucked. I flinched then, looking down and noticing that my jailer, or in this case, my torture expert, was digging a long blade down my forearm.

I watched, interested as my dark-red, nearly black blood seeped out, and then I looked back up at him. He was grinning maniacally, and I knew then and there that when this soul made it to the Underworld, I was going to take him to Elon myself. We would enjoy returning the favor he performed on me now. But in his case, he would feel that pain for a decade or two.

“Monster,” he breathed, “I will break you.”

You won’t, I thought a bit sarcastically. Because there was no way he could do enough to me without the Drude or his tiny witch to do any real damage. They needed me alive, at least for now.

Besides, what did I care? I had lost my soul. Lost a friend. Gained a soul, and yet the betrayal of Justine’s pledge to serve the Drude was more devastating than any blow these pitiful humans may deliver in their questioning. I would remain quiet and alive for my family’s sake.

That was it.

My hopes, the sliver of a dream I might have let take root during those days with Justine, were gone. Hidden away deep inside and replaced with my usual disinterest in generally anything.

If I could only convince them to let me sleep, I could talk to Arafel and set things into motion. But the bastard, while not good at finding the painful points in my system, was surprisingly good at keeping me just enough awake that I could not talk to my dream-wielding brother yet.

Not that he could do much physically. Maybe he could send some of the Brotherhood up to save me. But even then, that was a risk that we often didn’t take.

I closed my eyes even now, letting my mind wander back to my home, setting myself at the edge of the dam and letting the sounds of the river fill my mind and take me far away from here.

Maybe, if I tried hard enough, I could doze.

Just as soon as the thought crossed my mind, the male found a new weapon and proceeded to drive it deep in my thigh. I grimaced, more irritated than in pain.