I glared at him. “I asked him for help, and he did exactly what I asked. Not only that, but he followed through and helped Dad in the only way he could. Which, I feel I should point out, no one else here has managed to do—myself included.”
“And who was this ‘friend,’ precisely?” Nigellus asked.
“Albigard,” Rans said, and if tone of voice could kill, I had no doubt that Tinkerbell would be keeling over inside his cute little faerie cottage right about now.
Nigellus nodded. “Ah. The malcontent. Interesting.”
Was it? I decided I didn’t care right now. “So, my father,” I repeated. “Supposedly, he’ll be arriving with the next Tithe. If he’s going to Hell, what do I need to do next?”
The demon leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. “Hmm. Perhaps there is a way that all three of us might yet end up receiving what we want.”
Rans went very still. “No,” he said. “I really don’t think there is, Nigellus.”
TWO
“WHAT ARE YOU talking about?” I asked, my gaze flicking between them. “Because I’m pretty sure I left my decoder ring in a drawer somewhere back in my ransacked house in St. Louis.”
But Nigellus was still locked in his staring contest with Rans. “She will be safer there. You know this, Ransley.”
I waved a hand, my irritation flaring. “Hello? If we’re going to do the talking about Zorah in the third person thing, I’ll just duck into the kitchen real quick and take Edward up on his offer to spike the lemonade.”
Rans tore his eyes away to look at me, and the tension between them broke. “Please don’t. No offense, luv, but I still haven’t recovered fully from the last time you were sloshed.”
The demon blinked, settling his expression into something less intense. “If your father is to be delivered with the Tithe, I can take you to him.”
“In Hell?” I clarified, sparing a brief moment to wonder how the fuck my life had come to this.
“Quite,” said Nigellus.
Rans’ jaw worked. “Getting in is easy. The question you should be asking is whether he can get you out again afterward.”
My brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Why would it be any different than getting in and out of Dhuinne?”
Nigellus shifted in his seat, the sun from the window behind him outlining his dark form with a halo of gold. “Hell is not Dhuinne. Anyone may enter, but only demons and those bound to them may leave freely. It’s the reason Hell will never be invaded. The army that breached it would become prisoners, not conquerors.”
I tried to wrap my brain around that. “So... the door opens to let you in, but then it slams shut and locks behind you?”
“Unless you are demon, or demon-bound, yes.”
Jesus. Could nothing in my life be simple anymore?
“She’s only one-quarter, Nigellus,” Rans said in a low monotone.
Nigellus shrugged. “There are records of half-breeds—cambions—coming and going freely. That would imply that merely having some demon blood is enough.”
I picked absently at a rough spot on the underside of the oak table, not liking where this was going.
“It would imply that having half is enough,” Rans countered.
I swallowed. “Hang on. If you’re not even sure I can get out again, then how is my father supposed to get out?”
Nigellus met my eyes. “He’s not.”
“Not unless you want him to sell his soul to a demon first,” Rans added grimly.
I drew in breath to speak, but the words caught in my throat, frozen. The splinter I was worrying slid beneath my fingernail, drawing blood—the sensation jolting my mind back to the hollow tree-cell where the Fae had so recently kept me prisoner.
Both of them were watching me now, though it was Nigellus who spoke. “As I told you... Hell is the safest place in the three realms, Zorah. You’ve already seen firsthand how vulnerable your father was to the Fae when he was dwelling in the human world. It could be argued that the demon realm is the best place for him right now.”
“He needs help, though,” I said. My voice lowered to a whisper. “The Fae... broke him, Nigellus.”
Compassion colored Rans’ blue gaze, but Nigellus only nodded in understanding.
“I told you before that Hell is not the fire and brimstone of human myth,” he said, very seriously. “The Fae have been sending a Tithe to us for more than two hundred years, child. There are hundreds of Fae-touched humans in the demon realm. They know the effect Fae magic can have. Who better to help your father?”
And just like that, the backs of my eyes were burning. I blinked rapidly, trying not to let emotion get the better of me. Damn it. I’d come here ready to shake answers from a demon who’d apparently been around since time immemorial. Looks like fifteen minutes or so was all it took for me to slide right back from wannabe badass to pathetic girl with daddy issues.
Awesome.
“I need to see him,” I managed.
I didn’t dare look at Rans’ face, but Nigellus tipped his chin in acknowledgement.
“As I said, I can arrange it.” he paused for a beat, as though considering his next words. “Hell is also the safest place for you right now, Zorah. Especially given the... additional stakes, now that Rans ensnared you in a life bond. You would be welcome to stay for as long—”
Rans’ palm hit the table hard enough that I jumped.
“Don’t,” he grated. “Do not manipulate her, Nigellus, or you and I are going to have a very. Serious. Problem.”
I swallowed, nearly choking on it. “He’s right, though, Rans.” I still couldn’t look at him. If anything happened to me—anything at all—he would die, too. Forget the Fae. I could be skewered by the next random mental case who sensed that I was part demon. I could be hit by a damned truck. It wouldn’t matter how it happened—Rans would be just as dead.
He stared at me. “And how do you plan on feeding?”
A sinking feeling washed over me. My succubus
