Demon Song by Cassandra Rose Clarke

Author:Cassandra Rose Clarke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Carina Press
Published: 2022-09-19T02:24:58+00:00

* * *

“How did you sleep, my dear?”

Helena’s eyes flew open. She expected to see the hot-white desert sky, the glint of metal from that car waiting on the side of the road. Instead, she was in a bed, a light blue quilt draped over her body. The light here was dim and dusty, yellow curtains pulled over the windows.

Helena sat up but was immediately stopped by a handcuff linking her right wrist to the bed frame.

“Yes, I’m sorry about that. Can’t risk having you run off.”

Helena swept her gaze around, her thoughts thick as molasses, her throat dry as dust. A woman sat at the foot of the bed. She wore a neat skirted suit, her hair teased up around the temples.

“Dawn,” Helena gasped, and fear clenched at her heart. She pulled on the handcuff again, then reached over with her left hand, trying to pull herself out of the confines. Dawn laughed, a tinkling sound, like wind chimes.

“Even if you do get out of that,” Dawn said softly, “I’m perfectly capable of freezing you into place from where I sit. So calm down. Look at me.”

Helena slumped against the headboard. Everything in the room looked old-fashioned. The bedroom of a grandmother’s house. Cross-stitch samplers on the wall, dusty silk flowers on the dresser in the corner.

“Where am I?” Helena said. “Where’s Aleksi?”

Dawn arched an eyebrow. “You mean Byleth.” Her voice took on a sharp edge. “Byleth, the Fourth King of Hell.”

Helena glared at Dawn. “Yes,” she snarled. “Byleth. What did you do to him?”

Dawn smiled. “The only thing I could do to him. Trapped him in a protective circle out back.” She gestured lazily toward the window, toward the yellow curtains. “I can keep him contained. But even that much nearly wiped me out.”

Helena didn’t say anything, only studied Dawn’s tastefully made-up face, trying to decide if she was lying or not.

Dawn stood up from her chair, a graceful motion, and walked over to a small table beside the door, where there was, Helena saw for the first time, a crystal pitcher and a small glass tumbler. Dawn poured out a cup of water and carried it over to bed.

“I know you’re thirsty,” Dawn said. “That sleeping spell always dehydrates the target.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, mattress creaking beneath her weight. “Here, dear, have some water.”

Helena eyed the glass with suspicion. “Was that sleeping spell Infernal magic?”

Dawn smiled sweetly, still offering the glass of water. “No. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

As soon as Dawn asked the question, Helena realized she did know the answer: she had no congested allergies.

“Come, dear, take the water. I promise you it’s just water.” Dawn took a small sip. “See?”

“But you can do Infernal magic,” Helena said.

“As can you.” Dawn pressed the water into Helena’s free hand. “Drink the water, and then we can talk.”

Helena’s throat itched; she was thirsty. It’s just water, she told herself. But she knew it came with a price. It had to. There was no reason for Dawn to treat her so kindly.

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