The arrow told him things. When he thought about it, he could hear his sister’s life. Now he could hear the quiet shuffling of limbs moving through sheets. Laying on his own bed in The House of Sin, Avery moved his arm from where it rested on his stomach to the mattress beside him. The sound of skin brushing across cotton was the same as what he heard in his sister’s room. Something warm flooded the pit of his stomach. Every time he used the arrow to listen to her, he heard something that brought him equal measures of joy and rage.

He was used to her now, and as his ears were filled with the sound of her sighing, he pulled in a long breath as well. Listening to Skie sleep was the most peaceful moments he had with her. He imagined the way she laid in bed, a blanket wrapped around her hips and her arms embracing her pillow while her face buried into it. From what he’d heard lately, he knew the elf was likely there, sleeping silently beside her. Avery imagined how restlessly her Drow lover would sleep if he woke to find Skie cold, blue, the life drained from her eyes.

It was nights like these, when he didn’t care for the delights that lay down the corridor from his room that Avery thought of her. The anticipation of the satisfaction he’d gain from squeezing the last breath from his twin’s neck was better than any lover the House could drum up. He wasn’t completely alone tonight, though.

A man’s body lay curled on the floor, on knees and elbows with a bowed back. From the shoulders, the torso of a young woman rose up, with a face that had been destroyed and held only rows of teeth and a searching, drooling tongue. Her arms were crossed on the mattress, giving a pillow for the horrendous head to rest. Absently, Avery let his hand move across the sheets and a single finger stroke the side of her arm. She stirred in her sleep but didn’t wake.

His mentor had given him a fantastic gift indeed. The monstrosity had once been one of his victims, and now was a show of power, of horror, of possibilities that he had only begun to imagine. Surely one gift deserved another. Watching the creature sleep, his green gaze boring into a face that would never betray a consciousness, Avery began to move through a list of his assets.

He had an entire people, an army that he could lay before Aurelius. Somehow, it didn’t feel impressive at all. Perhaps because the demonic commune was filled with beasts of power, who fed on and craved affection, he mused. The Beauty as a whole were devoid of violence, so unlike their King. Hellspawn of Benevolence, perfect creatures made for pleasure and so rarely agents of pain, the demons of Concordia were too soft for his master’s needs. Oh sure, the tiefling could likely use them. Usage was his forte.

No, Avery thought, he needed something more impressive. A crash rang out and his ears were filled with the movement of two bodies suddenly sitting up, and hushed questions. His sister cleared her throat. “Just a book falling,” he heard her say. Her lover satisfied with her answer, more movement, then silence, and soon the quiet sound of Skie drifting back to sleep. He hated that she could have that tender moment, comfort in her lover’s arms. Oh for the day, Avery thought, when he would strip her of her comfort and lead her begging and screaming for death. Her elf, her thief, and her books would never be able to save her then.

His thoughts lingered on the books even as he banished the spell that let him listen to his sister. He’d caught moments where she was reading, her muttered musings and out-loud translations only giving him bits and pieces of what she was working on. Between what he gained by spying on her and the accounts his demons had returned to him, she was gifted with the magic of their father.

Devon dan Sabriel had been called the Starslayer, destroying souls as if he were snuffing candles out in the night. Skie had the same power, but something curious had been emerging since she’d been banished and stripped of the attributes of her demonic heritage. Now she was creating souls, touching demons with the gift of humanity.

Avery’s hand froze, his absent petting of the beast ceasing as his eyes stared at the ceiling. A mirror mounted over the bed showed his bright verdant eyes, and the smile that was slowly spreading across his face. His too-sharp teeth were gleaming, sparkling with a spark of mischief almost as bright as the one in his eyes. Oh yes, he thought, it was almost too perfect.