“It means the demonic part of her soul is on the rise.”
“Explain,” I demanded, letting the fire die. This seemed like something the Once and Future Queen should know. And since they’d abased themselves before me, my ire was appeased. After I heard the explanation, I would dispense an appropriate punishment for their defiance.
“You have doubtless been told that the Old King’s power over demons came as a gift from the archangels,” Greydusk said softly.
I inclined my head.
“What your source did not reveal, I suspect, is how they imbued the first Binder with that power.”
“My patience wears thin.”
“Long ago, there was a true queen of Sheol, named Ninlil. She ruled over the castes and all owed her fealty. Then the greatest of the archangels called her forth. On the steps of the temple, after a great battle, he slew the demon queen and bound her power to the Old King’s soul. The angels gave Solomon other gifts, such as the ring of Aandaleeb, known to most as the Seal of Solomon. He used it to summon and bind Asmodeus, who had been Ninlil’s consort, at which time we bestowed upon him the title Binder. Your line has carried it ever since.”
“So…the more she uses demon magick, drinks potions fueled by it, the more she’ll change. Become less herself and more the demon queen.”
Since it was more or less what I’d have asked, I didn’t reprimand the male. Yet. But he had to learn subservience if he was to remain with me. And under me.
“Rise,” I said. “And bring me the bag. We need to find the girl. She’s one of mine, and those who stole from me will suffer.”
Greydusk obeyed with alacrity, as it should be. Once I had the pack in my hands, a wave of…something swept over me. It was soft and warm, aching, and I had no name for this feeling. The scene replayed in my head; it was a young girl—the one we were searching for—and me in a store, shopping, laughing over nothing in particular. She nudged me gently, grinning, and a lock of dyed-black hair flopped into her eyes. We’d picked out this bag together. All at once, I wanted to weep, but demon queens did not. Obviously the girl was mine, and that was why I wanted her back.
I ignored their stares as I unzipped the backpack. It had her things in it: a change of clothes, a toothbrush, some books, her netbook, and iPod. Oddly, they both still had power. I clicked through her playlist, wondering if she’d cowered in the dark listening to the music that drowned out her terror: “Fear of the Dark” by Iron Maiden, “Trains” by Porcupine Tree, “Don’t Fear the Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult, “Drumming Song” by Florence and the Machine, “The Weeping Song” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, “Wretches & Kings” by Linkin Park, “On My Own” by Three Days Grace, “I’m Not Okay” by My Chemical Romance, “Cryin’ Like a Bitch” by Godsmack, and “Last Man Standing” by Pop Evil.
At that point I stopped scrolling. Her music told me so much about her—or rather, it reminded me. A lot of it was old, a hallmark of her stunted childhood in Kilmer. Other bands were those she’d discovered since I freed her, and they reflected more of her personality.
Steeling myself, I curled my palms around the iPod, which I knew she loved. There would be a charge. If her time in this room had been as traumatic as I expected, I’d learn something. Sufficiently braced, I let my concentration drop and the pictures screamed into my head, and I became Shannon Cheney.
I’m bound, hand and foot. Someone shoves me roughly from behind. My iPod clutched in one hand, I tighten my fist so I don’t drop it. This is my one link to safety. What the hell am I doing here? What do they want? These things don’t talk to me. They don’t tell me anything. Oh, God, I’m so scared.
Jesse.
I want him so much I ache with it. He’s my first love, and he doesn’t know where I am. And maybe to him, I’m just another weird, gifted girl who wigged out because I have a less-than-stable background. He thinks maybe I’m too young for him, like he’s a dirty old man for being with me, but I’m not a kid. I’m not.
I wanted him from the first moment I saw him. But now I’m here in a nightmare I can’t wake up from. Where is here?
Monsters skitter at my feet. Hideous things that are like spiders, only they’re not; it’s like they ate a baby’s head or something, and they’re so hungry. I wish I had my radio. Surely there are dead things even here. I’d wreck them all.
The bastard behind me whispers low in a language I don’t understand, calming the spider things. They back off, permitting my faceless captors to shove me toward the closet. They’ve kept me blindfolded until now, and I still haven’t seen anything. Stop talking about me.
A hard push launches me inside, and then the door shuts behind me. I land hard, slamming into the far wall. My face is bruised. Blood drips down my chin. Chains rattle as they fasten me in here. My hands are bound, but not my arms. With some careful maneuvering, I get my earbuds in so I don’t have to listen to the monsters scrabbling at the door. I won’t let them break me. I won’t.
Maybe the music can take away this awful, endless pain—because I remember now. Passing through that water gate burned all the cobwebs out of my mind. Something was done to me—it made me forget. I don’t understand it, but somehow, I lost all my memories of my best friend. And then I stole her boyfriend. So I probably deserve to be here. Whatever happens next, I’ve got it coming.
I fell out of her thoughts then. Maybe the music calmed her so that her mood leveled out, stopping the imprint. Whatever the reason, I lost connection. Tears caught me by surprise, burst out in a noisy rush. Oh, God, Shan, it’s not your fault. It’s my fault. Everything is. I couldn’t shut off my grief. The sobs felt endless, and I couldn’t resist when Chance pulled me to him. He rubbed my back, whispering in low, worried tones to Greydusk, but with so much of Shannon’s terror and anguish in my head, it was impossible to do anything but weep.