The Sweetest Burn
Jasmine had made it no secret that she lumped Adrian together with demons, to the point where she partially blamed Adrian for her boyfriend’s death as well as her awful treatment in his former realm. What if that hatred had driven her to do something terrible, like trying to get him killed? It wouldn’t be hard for her to reach Demetrius. All she would’ve had to do was say his name in an unbroken mirror, and he would appear.
Costa knew that, too, and as he’d told me recently, he still had difficulty forgiving Adrian for what had happened to him while he was enslaved in Adrian’s realm. Hadn’t Costa also said that he’d do anything to avenge his friend Tomas? Tomas had died trying to help Adrian and me, and while it was minions who’d shot him, maybe Costa blamed Adrian, too. After all, Tomas wouldn’t have been in Mexico to get shot if not for Adrian asking for Tomas’s help.
It had to be Costa, I decided, reining in my spiraling emotions. Jasmine might hate Adrian, but she’d never risk me getting killed, too, and she knew I was number one on the demons’ hit list. Costa might like me, but if he was that determined to punish Adrian by turning him over to Demetrius, he wouldn’t call it off on my account. We’d been though a lot, but at the end of the day, I didn’t mean nearly as much to him as Tomas had.
“...this is bullshit!” my sister was saying, and her screech cut through my inner wrestling match.
“You bet it is,” Costa flared, his dark brown eyes almost flashing in his agitation. “I know it wasn’t me, and I was with Jasmine both times, so it couldn’t have been her, either!”
“You sure about that?” Adrian asked, his tone softer, but no less harsh. “She never left your side to go into another room for a moment? Would you even remember if she had?”
My gaze swung to Adrian. “It’s not her,” I snapped.
From the pitying look he gave me, he’d also come to his own conclusions about who’d done it, only he’d landed on Jasmine.
“It’s not her,” I insisted. “Jasmine would never do that to me, and Costa admitted before that he’s still pissed at you! Hell, he’s also never believed I’d be able to wield the staff without getting killed, so it’s not like he’d think my death would take the rest of the world down with me. He already thinks everyone is doomed.”
Costa replied with a burst of Greek that sounded as furious as he looked, and with his handsome features mottled from rage, that was saying something. Whatever his tirade was, it pissed Adrian off to a fantastic degree, too, because Zach had to catch his fist before he slammed it into Costa’s face.
“Was that a confession?” Jasmine cried, coming over to me.
The look Costa threw our way was more scalding than his response. “Quit acting, Jasmine! We both know it has to be you.”
“Fuck you, no it isn’t!” she screamed back at him.
Zach still had ahold of Adrian’s wrist, and when Adrian attempted to pull free, the Archon tightened his grip.
“Not until you are in control,” Zach said coldly.
“If you’d just confirm who it is, we can end all this,” Adrian snarled.
“No,” Zach replied. “Until you are able to figure it out for yourself, you are not ready to accept the truth.”
His cryptic response only made things worse, but when Zach didn’t want to reveal something, all the raging in the world wouldn’t make him. Plus, while we were fighting, demons could be descending on that former church site in France. As serious as the prospect of Costa’s betrayal was—and after Zach’s comment, I was 100 percent convinced it was Costa because that’s the only truth Adrian wasn’t ready to accept—getting the staff before the demons found it had to come first.
“Stop it, everyone,” I said, raising my voice to a shout. “We have a staff to get, so Jasmine, Costa, you two are waiting here. You’ll be safe,” I added with a hard glance at Zach, whose oblique nod confirmed that he was staying with them. Good, because now, I didn’t trust Costa around Jasmine. “When we get back, we’ll figure this out.”
Zach released Adrian’s wrist. He rubbed it while his gaze landed on the three of them, seeming to make silent promises that I couldn’t decipher. Then at last, he looked at me.
“Ready when you are, Ivy.”
* * *
IT FELT LIKE I had twenty pounds of rocks in my pockets. Good thing I’d worn jeans to the campus last night. If I’d had on a skirt, I wouldn’t have been able to store nearly as much. I still didn’t have on a bra, not having found it during our brief, former visit to Adrian’s loft. I did have knives, holstered and strapped beneath my thankfully baggy T-shirt. As for shoes, well, I hadn’t found mine in the trashed loft. If I hadn’t been so upset by the betrayal revelation, I might have remembered to ask Jasmine if I could borrow her shoes before we left.
I hadn’t been thinking about my feet, though. My thoughts had been split between Costa’s betrayal and the possible fight we were walking into. Those thoughts were briefly put on hold when we tumbled out of the light realm in Lyon, France, which was as close as we could get to the chapel’s original location of Chasse-sur-Rhône. We landed in a wooded area, with a huge, towering white structure that looked like a cross between a castle and a church looming above us. Amber-pink rays of sunrise highlighted the gorgeous Gothic building, making it appear to be a vision from the medieval past. If Brutus weren’t so afraid of the sun, the gargoyle would’ve looked perfect soaring around the high, pointed turrets.
From Brutus’s cringing, he wouldn’t be doing any soaring in the sunshine soon. The leafy trees kept most of those bright rays off us, but too much was getting through for his liking, and with the time jump, that would only get worse. I’d estimated it to be around midnight in Milwaukee when we left. Here, it was the beginning of the day.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the castle/church.
Adrian glanced up. “The Basilica of Notre Dame. I wasn’t sure where the light realm would spit us out, but I’ve been here before. Like Zach said, there’s a dark realm nearby, and the basilica is a tourist trap, so there should be lots of cars.”
I don’t know why I thought that meant we were going to rent one. Neither of us had our passports or other identification, and I certainly didn’t have any money. But still, I was surprised when Adrian snuck around to a parking lot, picked out an older-looking van and smashed out the back window.
Brutus shared none of my hesitation. He practically flew over and dove into the back door Adrian held open. I hurried over, too, but far more cautiously, looking around to see if anyone had seen and was now calling the police.
So far, no one was. I got in the passenger seat and Adrian got in the front. As soon as he did, he ripped some wires down from the base of the steering wheel, and in moments, had the van revved up and moving.
“How long have you known how to hot-wire?” I asked.
He flashed a sly grin my way. “Since the invention of cars. The newer models are harder, though. That’s why I picked this one. It’s big enough for Brutus and old enough not to have an alarm, let alone better safety measures beneath the wheel.”
I felt bad about stealing someone’s car, but consoled myself with the thought that if the person knew why we needed it, he or she wouldn’t mind. What was a little car theft compared to trying to stop a demon apocalypse?
“Here,” Adrian said, handing me Costa’s cell phone. “Pull up directions to Chasse-sur-Rhône. I don’t think it’s far, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been in this area, so I could be wrong.”
I did, feeling encouraged when I saw that it was only twenty miles away. Then I googled information about the chapel. Back in the fifteen hundreds, it had been called the Chapelle de St. Martin de Sayssul, and while I couldn’t find an exact location for the old site, it said that it had been along the Rhône River Valley. Since Chasse-sur-Rhône was only three square miles in total, my plan was to start by the river and keep walking until I felt something hallowed. With luck, we’d grab the staff and be back in the nearest light realm before the owner of this van even realized that it had been stolen.