Still, as I went down the stairs, as all four sets of eyes swung toward me, I felt like each of them could see what I’d done.
They’ve all seen you naked. They’ve all been inside you. There isn’t much mystery.
My cheeks burned as I tucked my hair behind my ear and tried to look as if I didn’t care.
Men could screw everything that walked. Why not me?
No one spoke at first, and I had a moment of thinking everyone would pretend nothing happened. We didn’t need to address anything, right?
“So what did you think of a knot, shadow-girl? Always wanted to try it myself, but I’m a chicken.” Hunter paired the words with a grin so wide, he looked like some sort of jester.
So much for pretending…
Troy twisted and let out a low snarl, to which Hunter raised his hands. “Just curious.”
Hunter didn’t look all the worried—or sorry—but the comment broke the tension in the room.
Grant chuckled beneath his breath before shaking his head. “Okay, so, we’re all alive. That’s good. Kase filled us in on what happened.”
Hunter snorted, no doubt in reference to filled in, but had the good sense not to actually say anything. Troy might usually have pretty good control over his wolf, but he’d still hit Hunter if he went too far.
“Kase said Styx was only a few miles away,” I said.
Hunter nodded. “We’ll be there in just a couple hours. I scouted ahead, and we should be fine.”
I felt the need to point out he’d thought that before and look what had happened, but I let it go. No need to pour salt in the wounds, and we’d all survived.
“Styx surrounds the dead zone and the Court. We’ll get some rooms near the inner edge, then head to the bridge after some sleep. I’m not sure what we’ll face, so we should be rested up and ready for anything.”
“Did you hear about my blood?” I asked.
Grant froze at that, his expression darkening. “Yeah. I also head about your little turning incorporeal trick.”
“And?”
“And nothing.”
The words were a lie. It was loud and clear that he had come up with something.
“Tell me, Grant. I deserve to know.”
He tucked his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know anything for sure, and I don’t like making wild guesses.”
“But you think you know?”
He cut his gaze away without answering at first. The set of his lips said I wasn’t swaying him. “I have a guess, but it isn’t possible. Look, we can deal more with this after we get out of hell. Don’t we have more pressing issues?”
I wanted to argue with him, but somehow his unwillingness to tell me what he thought cut. It was like Kase and the coven all over again. More secrets.
I told myself he didn’t know shit. He’d tested my blood and hadn’t come up with a single thing, so the odds that he knew anything now were next to nil.
I didn’t really believe that, but it was easier to tell myself that then to think he had answers he wasn’t sharing.
The one thing he was right about was that we had bigger problems.
Like a hell city and the devil.
* * * *
Styx was set up like a bustling city, made up of all bad areas.
Hunter had retrieved my cloak, and it was once again smelly and damp. After finding out about the plants, I didn’t complain about the garment.
There were a lot worse things than sticky clothes.
Hunter disappeared, again, and Kase and Troy hardly looked at each other. They were going overboard trying to pretend nothing had happened.
Which, nothing really had between them, but apparently two naked and erect penises in the same room created a problem for some men.
Grant stood just to my side, and during the walk toward the city, he’d created another three of those charms, so each of the men could find me.
Except Hunter, who it seemed could track me without problem—no magic needed.
“How often are you here?”
Grant shrugged. “I visit hell every few months.”
“Do all mages come here?”
“No. Not many have the power to create the portals. It means I also make a good sum selling the things I pick up here.”
“Why can you if others can’t?”
He pressed his lips together, as if deciding how to explain it. “I told you magic was finite for a mage, right?”
“The bowl theory. Yeah, I remember, you refused to magic away vampire dust from my cleavage.”
He didn’t look sorry. “Exactly. Different spells take different amounts of magic, so if you have a mage with a very small bowl, they simply don’t have enough to create a portal.”
“But you do?”
“What can I say? My equipment is quite impressive.”
I ignored his crude joke. “But why? What determines a mage’s bowl? Are they born like that, or do they get more powerful as they grow?”
A slight tension started in Grant’s cheek, despite his smile, as if the conversation veered down a path he’d rather not go, the secretive bastard. “A little of both. A mage is born with a certain amount of magic available, but all of it won’t be accessible until they become immortal. Mages get better at using their magic as they age and learn, but they’re mostly stuck by that central size issue.”
“Mostly?”
“There are ways to change it, but they’re forbidden.”
“Forbidden?” I drew out the word to point out how odd it was to hear it from him. “You never struck me as the kind to care about what’s allowed.”
He cast a withering look my way. “The only way to increase a mage’s innate power is to steal it from another mage, preferably a child, since they have a lesser hold on their magic. The process kills the person if they’re lucky.”
His words chilled me, though I suppose, in some strange way, it was good to know he did have lines.
I would have kept asking questions—it wasn’t like I had anything better to do and I
