Harley Merlin 12 by Bella Forrest (story books to read TXT) 📗

He leered down at me, enjoying my torment. Erebus and his sadistic kicks. I could probably write a book about those, too. Maybe I would, just to spite the prick. But right now, I needed to beg forgiveness or end up with flames for a tongue.

“I’m… sorry!” I rasped. “Traffic… was terrible. I didn’t… want to chalk-door… here, since it’s… a human… joint. Please, forgive… me!”

“Pardon? I can’t understand through all the straining.” Erebus laughed coldly. His human body might limit him, but he couldn’t resist showing off how much power he had left. This was nothing but a flex. A reminder to keep me in my place.

“I’m sorry!” I bent double, sputtering. “Forgive… me.”

He twisted his hand, and the pain disappeared. I coughed violently, my hands braced on the carpet, my body shaking from the aftermath. The agony had gone, sure, but my throat felt like I’d swallowed a prime slice of razorblade pie. My chest spasmed, my lungs unsure they were allowed to take full breaths again.

“Get up. You look pathetic.” Erebus stalked to the table. “Although, you remind me of my precious Purge beasts when they disobey me.”

I compelled myself to get to my feet. I gripped the door handle and leaned there for a moment, waiting for the nausea to pass. “You treat your Purge beasts like that?”

“Naturally.”

“I guess to you, I’m no better than they are.” I knew I shouldn’t poke the bear, but had he really needed to do that, for the sake of a few minutes?

He gestured to the opposite seat. “That’s correct. Though you have opposable thumbs, so you can hold a fork and knife.”

I’ll give you a forking knife. Right to your heart, if you’re not careful. I staggered to the table and sat, sweat dripping down my face. “You’re done with dumpsters and shady alleyways, then?”

“I have grown partial to human food,” Erebus replied. “And after all, we have cause for celebration.”

I leaned back in surprise. “We do?”

“Yes. I have an approximate location for Calvert.” He sipped champagne, his behavior eerily similar to his wife’s. That probably caused most of their conflicts—they were more alike than they’d ever care to admit. Two stubborn asses with too much power.

“Calvert? Is that a wine you’ve taken a liking to, or some place you want me to find?” I toyed with the stem of my glass but didn’t drink. My gremlins hadn’t been vocal recently, and I needed them to stay that way. No distractions.

He smirked. “Nash Calvert. He is a person.”

“Ah, so it’s a dude you’ve taken a liking to. Erebus, you surprise me. Playing away from home, are you?” Teasing helped me focus.

Erebus elegantly swept his champagne up to his face again before bothering to reply. “Even if I were, that would be none of your business. So I thank you to keep your smart comments to yourself.”

“Who is he, then?” I decided to behave, in case he triggered another pain bomb to underscore his point.

“Nash Calvert is the key to the Gateway of Atlantis.”

I faltered. “Huh? When you said we needed a key, I figured it would be more of a… metal object. What makes this guy special?”

Erebus swirled his glass. “Nash is a relatively rare Sanguine.”

“A blood magical?”

He nodded. “Precisely.”

“You say ‘relatively’ rare. That doesn’t sound special.” I watched the bubbles in my own glass rise to the surface.

“It is the nature of his blood that makes him special,” Erebus went on. “He is a direct descendant of two Atlantean Primus Anglicus—a pureblooded child of those who took refuge in that mythical city.”

My eyes widened. “He’s a child?”

“It is a turn of phrase, you imbecile.” Erebus groaned. “He is a descendant, as I said, and the blood in his veins is unmarred by lesser lineages. Those who emerged from Atlantis many moons ago painstakingly kept their heritage intact.”

“He’s inbred, you mean?”

Erebus’s eyes glinted darkly. “He is pure.”

“Potato, pot-ah-to.” I cast him a sly glance. “And what do you want to find in Atlantis, again? You know, after you get this key? Refresh my memory.” Or, you know, give me a straight answer.

“Nash Calvert’s blood can replace the rare and extinct ingredients of the ancient spell required to open the Gateway.” Erebus didn’t bite. But at least he gave me something to go on regarding this Nash dude. That was a rarity in and of itself.

“Okay… but why can’t you collect him yourself? If he’s important to you, surely you don’t want to put him in my slippery mitts?”

Erebus sighed and gazed at the fountain. “A djinn-made curse was placed on Nash long ago, which makes his blood useless, and even poisonous, to other magicals. I have very few weaknesses, as you well know, but my inability to break djinn-made curses is one of them.”

“Don’t you, like, own the djinn?” I thought of Kadar and Zalaam and the royal mess he’d made of them.

“I created them, and they are bound to me, but that grants them certain advantages. They can’t intervene in my deals or curses, and I can’t intervene in their deals or curses,” he replied bitterly.

I wiped the sweat off the back of my neck. “That’s why Zalaam couldn’t tell us Katherine was Imogene?”

“Exactly. Because she had entered an exchange with me—giving me the soul of Shinsuke Nomura in place of hers—she was off limits to the djinn. They could not even mention her, as her exchange with me protected her.” His lips curled up. “Not from me, of course, in the end.”

“Wait, so Children of Chaos can create Purge beasts?” I flitted back to his previous comment, the words only now tickling my curiosity. “I thought they just came from… well, Purges.”

Erebus laughed. “There is much you do not know, Finch.”

“Fair point.” I sucked air through my teeth. “I’d still like to know how that’s possible, though.”

“In my early days, I enjoyed experimenting with raw Chaos. Beastly manifestations resulted. In fact, all beastly manifestations are the result of a Child of Chaos playing