I surged from the bedchamber, startling Father, who had taken a lolling seat on Hellen’s black leather settee.

“Junior! Where’ve you—unghhh!”

I dragged him to his feet, and higher, so he was dangling in the air, my fingers wrapped around his throat. “Jemma’s father!” I roared. “You reaped Jemma’s father?”

“I—” His words cut off with a gurgle as I squeezed. His face went from its usual red to a sickly aubergine, and I tossed him across the room, his body hitting the wall with a sickening crunch.

“Junior! What … is wrong with you?” he panted, rolling onto his side with a pained grunt.

“You tore the parents from a ten-year-old child!”

“I … did not!” Father bared his teeth at me, blood coating them. “I had no hand in his murder. Only the … ownership of his soul.”

Wrath filled my lungs, and I stormed over to him, lifting his body and slamming him against the wall. “You care nought for those whose lives you ruined in your greed … in your stupid, pointless war with Heaven!”

Father’s eyes went black. “My pointless war? The war that wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for … Her … and Her scheming and thievery—” He broke off with a hiss when I punched him in the ribs.

“We will have words about your lies, Father,” I vowed, tossing him back to the floor. “Later.”

Father looked up at me, realisation dawning on his face. “She … you’ve met Her, haven’t you?” Had his expression just … relaxed? “So, you know the truth now.” Relief buoyed his words.

“I know nothing!” I grated. “Except that I will do anything to save the woman I love from both of you!” And my bitch sister, I added silently.

Leaning over him, gripping him by the back of the neck, I opened my throat, exhaling the miasma. I’d never used it like this before—to render a being unconscious. But theoretically, it was possible.

He struggled, but I held him fast, my breath a cloud over him, until his eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped against the wall.

“Go!” I growled to Beezle and Joe. “Portal, Jemma’s bedroom. Now.”

Without waiting to see if they complied, I sprinted from the room and to the nearest set of stairs leading down. Into the bowels of the castle.

Into the Pit.

I had one thing to thank my father for. At least now, I knew exactly where to find Jemma.

Wherever Robert Bliss was imprisoned.

* * *

“Bloody Chad!” I snarled, storming down yet another overheated Pit tunnel. I’d forgotten, amidst everything else, that I’d sent all the art I ‘purchased’ from him down here to be displayed. Into this very hallway, apparently.

I strode past, ignoring the garish colour against the black stone as best I could until I could finally take another turn.