Chase the Dark (40 page)

The man choked on the rest of his sentence. Tension thickened the air.

It shattered when Miysis, the daemon Piper had freed in the Consulate basement, walked out from between two cruisers. Three prefects trailed after him, looking anxious. The mysterious daemon smiled, his yellow-green eyes glittering as he came to stand beside her and Ash’s daemon escorts. Both military daemons gave Miysis casual salutes.

“Now, sergeant,” he said smoothly to the prefect, “you should honestly know not to antagonize a Taroth. They have terrible tempers.”

The sergeant paled. His gaze darted from Miysis to Ash and back.

“What are you doing here?” Ash demanded. Piper’s mouth fell open at the biting hostility suffusing his tone. “Go sharpen your claws on some other fucking tree.”

Miysis’s eyes cooled to chips of green ice. “You could at least attempt to be civil, Ashtaroth. I am in a position to, at the least, save you from adding to your already brutal reputation by killing everyone here. Or do you enjoy being clothed in the blood of your victims?”

“There may be blood on my hands, Miysis, but there’s far more on your conscience. Assuming you have one.”

“And what would you know of consciences, Ashtaroth?” Miysis scorned.

“I—”

Piper put her hand on his arm and squeezed. Ash’s mouth snapped shut as he turned a furious black glare on her. She barely managed not to cringe. “Ash,” she whispered, “I freed him from the Gaian’s basement earlier tonight. He was a prisoner.”

Ash slashed a derisive look at Miysis. “Him?” he snorted. “What game were you playing, cat?”

Miysis lifted his chin and tapped a finger to the collar still around his neck. “I misjudged. As did you the night the Sahar vanished, hmm?”

Ash receded into thoughtful silence, scrutinizing the collar. The two military daemons noticed the direction of Ash’s calculating look and shifted protectively closer to Miysis. Miysis, however, ignored Ash as he shifted his attention to Piper. She shrank a little, no longer sure how to react to him.

“Piper,” he said, his voice softening from the acerbic tones he’d used with Ash. “I’m glad you survived. I feared the worst when the house collapsed.” He politely didn’t check out her immodestly torn shirt.

“You got my uncle out. Thank you.”

“Of course.” His attention dropped to her injured arm, still pressed to her chest, and his brow creased.

The sergeant cleared his throat loudly. “Miysis, sir, we have business to address.”

Piper blinked at the middle-aged sergeant addressing the much younger daemon as “sir.”

“I know that,” Miysis snapped. “Have patience, man. The girl is injured.”

“The
girl
is the thief of your precious Stone. Ask her. Confirm it.”

Piper went still at the sergeant’s use of possessive.
Miysis’s
Stone? Could it be . . .?

The daemon focused on Piper again. “Piperel, I am a truth-seer. I can recognize lies without fail. The prefects have agreed to accept my word in this matter. If you speak the truth, I will confirm it, and you will be free from incrimination from this point onward.”

“Why are they taking your word for it?”

His eyebrows rose. “Because the Sahar is far more my business than theirs.”

She licked her lips. “You’re a Ra, aren’t you?”

Miysis smiled like a cat with a mouse under its paw.

Ash snorted. “He’s not just a Ra. He’s their fucking heir.” He spat on the ground, disgust clear in his voice.

Piper took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves twisting in her belly as her fears were confirmed. No wonder Ash hated Miysis. Miysis was heir to the most powerful Overworld family and the rightful owner of the Sahar. Ash was somehow tied to the Hades family, the most powerful Underworld family and repeated thieves of the Sahar. They were born to loathe each other.

Her brow furrowed as she looked at Miysis. “What
were
you doing in that basement then?”

“I was investigating the Gaians. I didn’t expect them to have a choronzon to threaten me with, nor did I realize I was allowing them to put such a powerful collar around my neck when I declined to battle the choronzon.” He sighed. “I will be laughed at for the next year.”

“At
least
,” Ash taunted.

“At any rate,” Miysis said, ignoring Ash, “I’ve already questioned the Gaians and your uncle. The truth is clear: the Gaians committed all the crimes at the Griffiths Consulate
except
stealing the Sahar. They do not know where it is. They never had it. Your uncle does not know who stole the Sahar from the Consulate or who has it now.”

Piper’s heart clogged her throat. She struggled to keep her breathing even. Miysis had come so close to the truth; Piper had almost shown her uncle the Stone. Fear skittered up her spine as she realized Miysis was about to question her. If she lied, he would know. If she admitted to having had the Sahar, to having hid it from everyone and run off with it—and then lost it—she didn’t know what the consequences would be, but there would be punishment. At the least, if the general public knew she’d had the Sahar, they would always suspect she somehow knew where it was now. Daemons would continue to hunt her. She would
never
be free from fear of attack.

She faced the Ra daemon heir, knowing her future depended on the questions he would ask and the truth she had no choice but to give. The intent stares of everyone on the lawn burned her. She clutched her arm to her chest and tried not to look terrified. It all came down to this—to the questions of a truth-seer. It could be her saving grace or her final downfall.

Miysis’s eyes slid from green to black. Power gathered around him, shocking in its strength because the active magic-depressor was still locked around his neck. No wonder Ash had laughed at the thought of Miysis being imprisoned by the Gaians. No wonder the Ra daemon had been so indifferent to his predicament. She was sure now he could have escaped any time he pleased but for some reason he hadn’t. He’d waited, enduring humiliation for reasons of his own—for the real thief to appear, perhaps?

He shifted closer until Piper saw nothing but his black eyes, shadowed by his power. His hand lifted, fingers touching her chin. She bit her lip, remembering Ash’s touch in the exact spot. Was Miysis equally as terrifying without glamour? Or were Overworld daemons different in their true natures?

“Piperel Griffiths,” he intoned. His voice was as melodic as ever even without inflection. “Speak only truth in your answer.” Silence pressed on her ears. His stare burned into her.

“Did you steal the Sahar Stone from the vault in the Griffiths Consulate?”

She blinked back tears as relief swamped her. She met Miysis’s stare and answered in a clear, strong voice. “No, I did not.”

Miysis nodded. Astonished disbelief stamped the sergeant’s face.

“Do you possess the Sahar Stone?” the Ra daemon asked.

“No, I do not.” Thank God. For the first time, losing the Stone didn’t seem like a complete disaster.

Again, Miysis nodded his acceptance of her truth. “Do you know where the Sahar Stone is now?”

She licked her lips. She knew the harpy had taken it, but she didn’t know where. “No, I do not.”

He hesitated. She waited, not daring to breathe. Finally, he nodded. “Truth,” he declared. “All truth. The girl is innocent of all charges.”

The sergeant stepped forward. “But—”

Miysis pivoted, the sudden movement embodying violence. He bared his teeth. “You doubt my ability, sergeant?” His voice was a deadly hiss. “You think she has deceived me? You think her simple answers somehow conceal lies?”

The sergeant backed away so fast he stumbled. “No, of course not. I—I mean—Forgive my presumption. I got carried away.”

Miysis stared him down, then turned back, this time to face Ash.

“Ashtaroth, speak only truth. Did you steal the Sahar Stone from the vault in the Griffiths Consulate?”

“No, I did not.”

Piper clenched her hands into fists. Thank you, Miysis, she thought. Thank you for asking such specific questions. If he had asked only if Ash stole the Sahar, his answer would’ve been a lie. Ash
had
stolen the Sahar—just not from the vault.

“Do you possess the Sahar Stone?”

“No, I do not.”

“Do you know where the Sahar Stone is now?”

“No, I do not.”

“Truth,” Miysis announced. He shot the sergeant a black-irised glare. “Anything else?”

“Ask him what he’s doing here then.”

Miysis focused again on Ash. “Why did you come here, Ashtaroth?”

Piper held her breath as Ash hesitated. He exhaled carefully.

“Piper came to rescue her father. I wanted to help her.”

She closed her eyes, sagging in the release of tension. He didn’t know it was actually Uncle Calder, but that didn’t matter; he’d spoken truth, and even made them look noble instead of suspicious. She would’ve opened her eyes again to see the sergeant’s expression, but it was so nice to have them closed.

“There you have it, sergeant.” Miysis’s voice had a weird hollow sound, too loud in her ears, like he was too close but far away at the same time. “They came on a rescue mission. They are innocent.”

“You realize that leaves us with no leads at all?” was the angry reply.

“Then we have no leads. I would prefer to accept that truth than waste time and energy arresting innocents.”

The air was buzzing in her ears. Everything seemed distant, unimportant, disconnected. Her arm throbbed in time to her heartbeat.

“Piper?” Ash’s voice whispered in her ear. His strong arm wrapped around her waist, holding her up. She let herself lean into him. That felt so nice she gave up on standing entirely. He sucked in a breath when she went limp. He pulled her into his arms, tucking her injured forearm between their chests as he cradled her carefully.

“Miysis, where’s your healer?” he demanded. His urgency didn’t touch her.

Miysis’s voice barked commands. The world was spinning, but Ash’s arms were steady and strong. Always strong. He was her only rock in the ocean of adversity that had flooded her life since the night of the attack on the Consulate. He was the only one who showed up again and again, his strength offered, nothing asked in return.

Shame choked her. Dredging up the determination from somewhere deep inside, she forced her eyes open. Her gaze found Ash’s, his gray eyes pinched with worry.

“Ash . . .”

“Shh. Don’t worry. Miysis has a healer. You’ll be fine.”

She couldn’t tell him she forgave him for his betrayal, his lies of omission. She couldn’t tell him she understood why he’d done it, or that she was sorry for holding it against him. She couldn’t tell him he didn’t terrify her now that she’d seen what he really was. But she had to tell him something.

“Ash, I . . .”

He frowned and tilted his ear down, listening. She pressed her hand against the side of his head.

“Ash . . . I like your horns. They’re cool.”

She smiled weakly at his baffled expression. Holding that image in her mind, she surrendered to unconsciousness.

CHAPTER 17

P
IPER
muttered insults to no one as she dug the broom into the corner of the room. Glass was miserable to sweep. It either caught in the grooves between the planks of hardwood or it went rolling merrily across the floor. For the fourth time, she tried to sweep the glittering debris into a pile so she could scoop it into the garbage bin.

When she finally got the stubborn glass where it belonged, she leaned the broom against the wall and planted her hands on her hips, surveying the room. It wasn’t the familiar space it should’ve been considering it had been her bedroom less than a month ago. Now it was an empty square with chunks of drywall missing and a boarded-up window. All the furniture, broken beyond repair, had already been hauled out. Most of her belongings had gone with the rest of the garbage.

The Consulate had been abandoned for less than a week after the attack by the Gaians, but more than prefects had searched every inch of it. Countless, unknown daemons had pawed through her personal possessions, searching for clues about the Sahar’s whereabouts. They had been neither careful nor respectful. Most of the Consulate had suffered the same treatment. The only silver lining was that, with so many daemons lurking about, no humans had attempted to loot the abandoned house. Not that it mattered much since almost everything had been damaged.

Bangs and thumps downstairs told her people were still hard at work trying to make the Consulate livable again. All the nearby Consulates had sent people to help. They were eager to have Head Consulate back up and running so the Head Consul could make all those important, difficult decisions the other Consuls didn’t want to deal with.

Somewhere downstairs, Uncle Calder was fielding endless phone calls. Her uncle didn’t enjoy the mantle of authority and especially didn’t like being chained to a desk. Unfortunately, he would be spending a great deal more time doing deskwork from now on. The daemon healer had done his best, but Calder’s leg had been badly broken for days, not to mention the other abuse he’d suffered at the hands of the Gaians—and Mona. He would walk with a limp for the rest of his life. His participation in Piper’s future martial training would be limited to the sidelines.