Everly Sterling's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Everly and Arden spent two days chasing Zereth's name through every archive they could bribe or pick a lock into. Nothing. The fallen angel had guarded the ivory crown for centuries, and no living record said where. Arden sat on the floor of a shuttered book stall at dawn, coat spread around him, and admitted defeat by not speaking for a full minute. The shadow cat watched them from a shelf, three yellow eyes half-lidded. Everly counted the hours she had left before Azraxis lost patience. Then she stood up and said the thing she had been avoiding since Tuesday. "I know someone who will know. You are not going to like it." "I love not liking things," Arden said, already on his feet. "Lead." She drew the door in an alley behind a laundromat, with chalk and a drop of her own blood. The door opened onto a room that had no business existing. Soft couches shaped like clouds. A ceiling painted with stars that moved. Pink pillows. A crescent moon lamp. Arden stopped in the doorway and made a noise she had never heard from him before. On the largest couch sat a demon the size of a doorway, olive-skinned, black horns curling back from his head, wearing gray pajamas. He looked up from a mug and his tired red eyes went bright. "Little bird," he said. He was across the room before Everly could brace, and he lifted her off the ground in a hug that smelled like cedar. "Put me down," Everly said, muffled against his shoulder. He did. He kept one huge hand on the back of her head a moment longer, checking. Then he looked at Arden. The warmth went out of his face. "Who." "Arden Grimm," Arden said, bowing. "Charmed. Astonished. Deeply curious about several things." His eyes flicked to Everly. "Little bird?" "Don't," Everly said. Belphegor guided her to the couch, sat her down, and pushed the mug into her hands before she could refuse. She drank. It tasted like honey. "I need to find a fallen angel. Zereth. A Duke gave me a job and a clock. I can't find where he is." Belphegor's jaw shifted. He looked at her the way he had looked at her when she was six years old and lost. "Azraxis," he said. Not a question. She nodded. He was quiet for a long moment. "Zereth is in the Abyss. Bottom of the pits. Locked in." He sat down across from her, and the couch groaned. "I will get you in. And out. You do not go alone." Arden, still standing, still staring, finally spoke. "Sterling. Your brother is a Prince of Hell." Everly did not answer. She held the mug and watched Belphegor's face, and thought about the door in Hell she had walked through at six, and how she still did not know why she had been there. She had a location now. She had a guide. She had one more secret Arden would not stop pulling at.