Faith of the Divine Inferno by Leslie Thompson (fantasy novels to read TXT) 📖

you were too close to the mortals to be allowed to find us,” he said. Us? There was more than just this guy? The man had ordered Baja and Kootch to break down my door and kidnap me. He was the guy who managed the Cellar. If there were more like him, did I really want to know about it? I knew the answer was a disappointing no. People like this are always up too no good, and if I got involved in their plots, I would never escape. I like to do my own thing without having to consider how other people would react. Getting sucked into this man’s creepy activities would give me nothing but drama. No thank you.
“You’re probably right,” I conceded. “I like mortals way to much for things like you to want to have anything to do with me.” I gave him an amiable smile and shrugged. “Now that we’ve established that I was not the one who called the cops on your cleaners, I’ll be on my way. Rest assured I will do everything in my power to never see you again.” I stood up, took a nanosecond to acknowledge that the move didn’t make my headache worse, and looked around for a door. Then I swore loud and violently when I discovered that there was no obvious exit. How did I get in here?
“We have not established anything,” the man said coldly. “You will sit down. We must discuss how you will compensate me for the loss of my men.”
“Like hell I will,” I growled. “It was your incompetence that got them nabbed in the first place. I don’t have to compensate you for a damn thing. Now let me out of here.”
I felt a rush of wind upon my face and suddenly I was sitting on the couch once more, blinking up at the man’s face in open astonishment. For the first time I saw him clearly, and I wished I hadn’t. His skin was smooth and flawless, stretched like marble across long, perfect features that resembled a human, but wasn’t. His large eyes were as green as the finest emeralds, and his long hair was the rich color of fine bronze. He was beautiful and terrible and utterly inhuman. Confronting this thing, I felt terror like I had not experienced since the first time someone tried to kill me. I opened my mouth to speak, and no sound came out.
“Be still.” Though the words were spoken softly, they clanged through my head like a mighty bell, compelling me to remain motionless. “You will not leave until I grant you permission to do so.”

Chapter 5

I watched open-mouthed as the man banished the shadows with a casual flick of his long fingers. Suddenly, the room was filled with a warm, golden glow too bright to be supplied by the small lamp on an end table near the couch. I sat as still as I could, ignoring the throbbing of my face and skull, and doing nothing to draw the creature’s attention to me. For the moment he seemed content to amuse himself with the various vines and mossy plants that decorated the office. With his thoughts elsewhere, I examined the walls for any crack or indentation that hinted at a secret doorway through which I might make my escape.
There are those who believe that once immortality is achieved that there is nothing left to fear. That is not true. There have been times when I knew I would survive a situation, but I was still a quivering lump of terror, unable to think or defend myself. As I watched this creature lovingly murmur to his plants, I knew that I might be facing such a moment soon. I wanted to get away by any means I could.
“I am surprised that you haven’t recognized me yet,” the man said casually. He was behind his desk again, with his fingers steepled beneath his chin. A small smile played upon his full lips, making his beauty menacing.
“Why would I recognize you? We have never met,” I answered. He frowned and leaned back in his chair, unhappy with my answer. He fell into a sullen silence, like a petulant child who had not been praised enough for some small trick or deed. “So who are you then?” I asked, irritated that I had to stroke this jackass’ ego. Suddenly, he wasn’t so scary anymore. He was just another man with an over inflated sense of self.
“I am Eochu Breas,” he announced loftily now that I had finally asked. “But I am simply called Bres now.”
“Huh.” I knew the name from my early travels.
I left my home in what is now Budapest, Hungary near my fortieth birthday when my neighbors began to comment on my obvious youth despite my advancing age. Leaving my beloved first husband behind, I started walking west and eventually found myself in Ireland. According to local legend and folklore, Eochu Breas was the half-breed king of the Tuatha De Danann Faerie. He had favored his father’s people, the Fomorii with gifts of lands and titles, during his brief reign. He was quickly overthrown by his outraged Tuatha wife Brigit and then left to bitterly stew in exile. If this man was who he claimed to be then he was a thousand years older than I am, regardless of his rumored claims to mortality. I doubted very much that he was a faerie king. My money said that he was some new breed of delusional mutant. “Good for you.”
Bres’ face darkened at my lack of excitement. After a moment of glaring daggers at me, he slapped the top of the desk with his hand. “You are arrogant in your years.”
“Hazards of the lifestyle,” I growled back. He opened the drawer of his desk and withdrew a vial full of red fluid. He held it in the tips of his long fingers, dipping it up and down so that the liquid contents flowed back and forth in the glass container. I watched him for a moment, taking in the smile teasing at his sculpted lips as he played. I knew he wanted me to ask about the vial, but like any self-respecting hostage, I was reluctant to give him what he wanted. Finally, his play grated on my nerves and I snapped. “What is that?”
“This? Oh, it’s nothing. Just some blood.” Bres was the most petty and juvenile criminal who has ever kidnapped me. And I have been kidnapped by a lot of people. I ground my teeth in frustration.
“Whose blood is it?” Of course it was my blood. He wouldn’t be showing it to me if it weren’t. He took his sweet damn time answering the question, even though he had been dying for me to ask it.
“It’s yours.” Thank the gods; he was in too big a hurry to gloat to wait for me to ask why he had taken it. “I had it removed while you were unconscious. It occurred to me that there are a few hematologists who would be very interested in the blood of someone like you.”
People have been nabbing my blood for centuries, using it in potions and spells in the hopes of gaining my immortality. It was gross, but didn’t do me any harm, and it did nothing for the thieves. However, since the mortals began to develop science and were growing more and more sophisticated in their technology, I was given cause to worry. On one hand it was now possible for me to discover exactly what it was that made me eternal, but on the other hand it also gave everyone else proof of what I was. I am aware of what people will do to learn the secrets I carry in my bloodstream, and I am painfully aware of what it means to my personal freedom and quality of life. So far I had been unable to find the courage to risk ending up in a secret laboratory in order to get the answers I wanted.
Bres was going to resort to blackmail to make me his puppet. I guess it was better than some of the things people have tried over the years. It was definitely a lot less painful strategy that was for sure. I did wonder why Bres didn’t just glamour me within an inch of my life if he was the faerie he claimed to be. Not that I’m complaining. It would completely suck to be under some crazy person’s magical control, so I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
I let out a long weary sigh, and made my voice as sullen as possible. “Fine. What do you want?” I would agree to anything that Bres wanted if it would get me out of the room. Whether or not I actually did it was a whole other matter. Bres glared at me as if he didn’t believe that I was relenting. I guess he wasn’t as dumb as he looked. He palmed my blood sample, and stood up from his chair, unfolding his long body like a puppet on strings. Unnerved, I watched him move toward me with a nefarious gleam in his green eyes until he stood very close to me. I had to tilt my head back to look in his face.
“You will infiltrate the group that sent the man to die in my Cellar, and you will kill their leader.” There was no pretense to the statement, no uncertainty that I would obey. He was speaking to me as a master to a slave, with the full knowledge that I would do as I was told, whether I liked it or not.
“Sure, no problem. Can I go now?” I snapped. There was no way I was going to do that. In my head, I began to make elaborate plans to torment the ass-face for centuries before culminating his pain in a slow and agonizing death. I almost laughed at the ideas scrolling through my brain, but managed to suppress it. It’s stupid to let the insane kidnapper know that you are plotting against them. It makes them cautious.
Bres gave a smile that contorted his face into a terrifying mask. Unable to help myself, I shrank away from him as he wet his fingertips from the vial and reached for me. He grasped my shirt tightly in one fist while he painted my forehead with strange runes and chanted in some language I’d never heard before. It was full of rolling syllables and musical vowels that slipped from his lips like poisoned honey. As he spoke, the blood tingled upon my skin and burned like acid. I squealed and fought, clawing at his wrists with my fingernails. I tried to kick him, but he slung me hard from side to side whenever I lifted my foot.
Finally, he shoved me away from him so that I fell to the floor and lay there gasping from pain. “What did you do to me?” I gasped. Tears of pain were streaming down my cheeks. I touched my forehead and found that my skin was smooth. The only blood I found there was the thin film that Bres had traced on me.
“Just a geas to make sure that you can’t talk about this, and to make sure I can keep track of you,” Bres replied casually.
I pressed my palms